Lost In The Cerulean Glow Yet Again

I don't know how long the creators of Glee can keep this up, and I really don't care. All I know is that this show has become irresistible to me in the same way Mad Men and The Wire did.

The conceit of the show, a high school dramedy interspersed with musical numbers, seems a bit cheesy on paper, but the execution is almost flawless. The surprise is that it never feels like a gimmick. The writers of this show deserve a ridiculous amount of props for the deft incorporation of show-tunes, standards and pop music.

The characters are well-written and avoid the stock characterizations of so many high school-themed shows. The humor doesn't feel forced and doesn't demean the characters. It ranges from subtle to lol-funny. It reminds me a lot of...Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It's one of those shows that just seems to "get" high school. All the angst, the pressure, the obliviousness, the solipsism...it's all there.

Did I mention Jane Lynch? You should watch the show for her alone. It's criminal that this woman isn't more widely recognized. From her work in Christopher Guest's films to Judd Apatow movies, she kills, every time.


In short, this show will own your @$$ for 43 minutes each week less commercials and you will enjoy every second.

Day Eight: All Good Things...

Puerta del Sol in the morning

My last afternoon in Madrid, I checked out the Royal Palace and a few other sights in the area. I tried to get my train ticket situation straightened out to no avail. It will have to wait until I’m stateside. So far that's been the only thing that didn't go according to plan and ironically it's the one thing I actually tried to plan in advance. See how that works?

The Royal Palace and the adjacent Almudena Cathedral are definitely worth checking out. I'm a bit cathedral-ed out at this point, but you know. The palace is maybe the length of two football fields and as regal as one would expect a palace to be. It's actually quite an elegant structure. Perhaps one of the nicest I've seen in Spain. I would take a tour sometime, but I'm a bit pressed for time as it stands. Gives me something to look forward to next time. Adios, Espana!

The Royal Palace as seen from the Opera House

The Invisible Man chillaxing

Almudena Cathedral, only completed in 1993

A view of the courtyard

A view of the Royal Palace

Other observations about Europe:
Spain is in a deep recession with unemployment in the high double digits, but it’s hard to gather from the places I visited. The people didn’t seem subdued and businesses seemed to be thriving with activity. Obviously my observations were limited from both a time and scope perspective. I’d be interested to know more about why the Spanish economy in particular is faltering so. Did they have a similar issue with real estate? A housing bubble? I'm sure it's also related to the interconnectivity of the EU's economy as a whole.

I saw this one kid on the train who I figure had to be from New York. His steez was just too NYC. He had the baggy jeans sagging so that the backside looked like he was wearing denim parachute pants and he had on a baseball cap with the brim flexed so straight that you could balance a tea cup on it. Do they do that anywhere outside of NYC? Did he just pick that up from watching music videos? I can only speculate. Still made me think how important a development it was to be able to transmit video and audio signals almost anywhere in the world. Physical boundaries really don't mean much, do they?

It's been Real, Spain.

Day Seven: Barcelona Finale/Madrid Redux

Gaudi's Parc Guell

I wanted to get in a few more “must-sees” before I left, so I checked out Parc Guell. As with many other attractions, I attempted to hoof it. The sign off the Metro points you in the general direction and then it gets a bit dicey. I almost gave up trying to find the place as the signs for motorists that seemed to guide towards the park had me going in circles. Eventually I just broke out the map and figured it out myself. Again, I probably could have just asked somebody, but that would have made too much sense. Still, doing it on my own felt like a minor achievement.



The park seems quite popular with tourists and locals alike. Seems like a nice place to go jogging. The sandy plateau offers expansive views of the city below. Lots of interesting structures including a couple of unused homes Gaudi designed. I could have spent an entire afternoon just lounging at the park. The weather was absolutely perfect. I'm not one usually swayed by how temperate the climate is in a particular locale, but I could get used to this.


Also made my way for a tour of Casa Batlo. Not only did Barcelona produce the greatest artist in the history of Creation, but also its greatest architect (excluding of course the Divine Architect, which Gaudi himself would have been first to concede). It’s a nice house. But seriously, I wonder why the modern architecture of today is so boring. Where are the disciples of Gaudi? How come his stuff didn’t catch on? Too impractical? Costly?

Gaudi's Casa Batllo during the day

Then it was back to catch the rail to Madrid for the final leg of my trip.

Back in Madrid I made my way to the Reina Sofia which meant I would end up seeing two of the trinity (the missing museum being the Thyssen-Bornemisza which contains a few works by Caravaggio and Dali). The Reina Sofia is most famous for housing Guernica, often considered Picasso’s greatest work. I have seen pictures of it before, but seeing it at actual scale is an entirely different experience. I couldn’t fill a Post-It with what I know about Guernica. In fact you could sum it up in one line: “Picasso’s Guernica has something to do with the Spanish Civil War…or something.” Now this might be accurate, but it also masks an even greater ignorance; namely, I know absolutely nothing about the Spanish Civil War. Wait, actually I could offer a bit of a tidbit: “Franco?” See, that’s not even affirmative. It’s a timid response and frankly all I’m capable of even somewhat committing to. Here’s a question that I can’t answer that kind of nags: If I’d not been told that Guernica was (arguably) the most important piece of artwork of the 20th century, what would I think of it? See, I can’t answer that and it annoys me. You can’t put your finger on the scale that way by declaring such things, because then I feel sort of forced into one opinion or another. It’s kind of like when a friend gives you music from his favorite group and then asks, “So these guys are the best ever right?” What do you say to that?


I will say that I circled back to Guernica maybe three or four times, each time scanning it for longer periods of time. But was I continually absorbing it because I wanted to feel I was giving the right amount of time its advertised greatness deserved or did I really think it was great? I'm leaning towards the latter.

The rest of the evening became a search for a reasonably priced dinner. I found a spot that was offering a three-course meal for 8.50 euros, so I took a chance. Wasn’t half-bad. Although the paella mixta had one scrawny prawn in it and a tiny mussel, plus something that resembled a neck bone or a tail bone of some indeterminate animal. The second course was serviceable and the dessert, a chocolate sponge cake was actually quite good. All-in-all, not bad for the price.

On my way back to the hotel, I stumbled across a small red light district. I kept seeing all these women dressed in mico-mini skirts, legs balanced atop five-inch stilettos and black leather jackets opened to reveal bustieres. I thought for a moment, "Wow, Spanish women are really fashion-forward..." then I realized what was going on. It was funny that this was just five minutes from the main tourist drag, Puerta del Sol, but I guess that makes sense.

Get HBO on the line. Got an idea for a show...

I felt bad that Madrid had gotten somewhat short-shrift in my visit to the Iberian peninsula, but I still got to see quite a bit and in the morning I would round it out with a trip to the Royal Palace. Also, it's not as if it's going anywhere. I plan on returning, armed with a decent vocabulary...or a translator.

Day Six: Barcelona Day 2

La Sagrada Familia, scheduled completion date: 2026. 2026!!! WTF?!?

Tried to take in as much of the city as I could today. Started off at the attraction closest to the hotel, the Sagrada Familia. If I’d have known I was going to pay $11 euros to see a half-finished cathedral, I might have had second thoughts. No offense, but you actually charge for this? Kidding!--halfway. It’s more interesting to read the history of the place. Gaudi with whom I only had a passing familiarity prior to this trip was apparently completely devoted to finishing the cathedral to the point of monomania. The story is equally harrowing, noble and pathetic. Once I get past the technical proficiency of the structure, I’m left a bit cold. I think it’s the Catholic iconography that tends to bore me. I get irritated at the self-aggrandizement passing as sanctity. There is something galling about walking into an already opulent church steeped in decadence and seeing a kiosk asking you to donate money in order to help finance more gilded altars. Besides that, I think I prefer the clean lines and uncluttered facades of secular monuments. Give me the Guggenheim (any one of them) over this kind of structure any day.

The view from inside

The next hour I spent looking for the Museo de Picasso. I’ve poured over books of his works many times, but I believe I’ve only seen a few of his actual paintings. There may have been an exhibit at the MoMa years ago. I ended up overshooting the mark and found myself in the marina. I took the opportunity to take in the aquarium. The largest tank with the sharks and this huge sun fish was worth the price of admission ($17 euros…yikes). Took a snapshot of a really old submarine. Kept thinking of the Ringo-led Beatles song for about the next hour.

"We all live in a..."

Sun fish...one ugly mutha

Finally stumbled upon the museum I was looking for. The output of some artists is just overwhelming. I wonder how many pieces Picasso created. It must number well into the thousands if you include every doodle, every sketch. I need to pick up a very good biography of the man.
I finally got to see the oft-mentioned “Blue Period” of the greatest artist that ever bestrode God’s green (as per the museum's hagiography scattered throughout never lets you forget). The gallery ends right at the cusp of his emergence as a Cubist master and the works and style so many people associate with Picasso. His early stuff was quite good. I don’t know how it’s considered in the art world today, but I especially like the use of color in his portraiture. He really seemed to capture his subjects’ moods.

From there I wandered around until I found yet another cathedral (I don’t even want to imagine what Italy must be like). This happened to be near the central shopping district. Took in a few of those sights and inadvertently snapped a few pics of a few well-known Gaudi buildings. They were pretty hard to ignore. Something struck me while walking through the area: American cities with a few notable exceptions (New Orleans and D.C. come to mind) are aesthetically dull things. Even New York, the greatest city mankind has ever conceived (if for the ingeniously simple use of a numbered grid with prominent street signs alone!), is frankly an ugly place compared to any of the cities I’ve seen on this trip. One of the best things NYC has to offer, Central Park, while invaluable from a utilitarian point of view, just isn’t all that visually arresting.

Gaudi's Casa Batllo

After a brief repose at the hotel, I headed back out to La Rambla and walked all the way down to the pier. I got a free pass to what was billed as a “New York Style”-party at a local nightclub. How could I resist? I wanted to see what exactly the party people of Barcelona thought New York-style was. Turns out to be pretty New York. Well a certain kind of New York actually. You had the same burly door guys deciding who could get in and when. Bottle service was de rigueur if you wanted priority. The music was pretty much what you’d hear in any club in NYC on a Saturday night. Lots of hip-hop, then a bit of house later on. People dance the same in Europe; no real surprise there. Most doing the same awkward two-step many casual partygoers favor. I had to leave after about 45 minutes because the smoke was just too much. Even before the smoking ban in NYC, the pervasiveness of smoking wasn’t that high in clubs. Nowhere like here where everybody seemed to light up, especially the women. Maybe that's how they stay so thin. That and the high-cost of eating.

Day Cinco: Lisbon/Barcelona, Days 3/1

View from my hotel

I spent the morning searching for a few things to take back with me. Went to what the travel guide billed as the best port wine shop in Portugal, a place called Napoleao. The clerk spoke perfect English. She told me that English is the second language of the Portuguese and French is the third. She also said something that I had to check out later which is that Portuguese is one of the most widely spoken languages in the world, rivaling Spanish and English. I’m surprised by that. I figured Portuguese to be a pretty niche language when you take Brazil out of the equation. But when you take into account Brazil and parts of Africa, she might be right. (Ed. note: checked this out. Portuguese is not the most widely spoken Romance language; that would be Spanish with 358MM speakers. Portuguese is a respectable 3rd with 150MM speakers [figures per wikipedia, natch].) She said Lisbon is a very simple place. They have many of the prestige stores that signal to a traveler that he is in a world-class city like Rolex, D&G, Hermes and Old Navy, but she claimed the locals don’t patronize them. She also told me there were a lot of Brazilians in Portugal who come on holiday and outstay their visas in order to find work and stay on a more permanent basis. She didn’t sound too pleased about this. Another tidbit she shared was that they don’t re-dub movies into Portuguese, so they get exposed to English from a very young age. As I said her English was almost flawless.

Rossio in the morning

The trip to the airport was relatively uneventful save for the fact that I had to dash back to the check-in counter when I realized you can’t store alcohol in your carry-on. Damn you, Al Qaeda. I loved the fact that I could book an inexpensive flight to the other side of the Iberian peninsula for a relative pittance. Compare that to the states where a last minute flight will cost you at least one vital organ. I’ve never understood that.

Adeus to all that

Barcelona was not what I expected. I don’t know what I expected though. Maybe skyscrapers with flamenco dancers out front. I’m not sure exactly. On the cab ride into the city (I tried to figure out what bus would deposit me at the Metro, but I got frustrated and just said eff it, I’ll take a cab.), I was a bit surprised to see very few high-rise complexes.

View from the Barcelo Sants Hotel located conveniently above the train and Metro station

Not only was the dread absent-street sign problem an issue again, but in Barcelona all the streets come to octagonal intersections. I’m not sure if this has any utilitarian benefit. Increased parking capacity wouldn’t be right, because you’re just truncating useable street real estate. Does make for an interesting quirk though.

Interior of the Paco Meralgo

After settling into the hotel, I looked up a few restaurant options for dinner. I settled on Paco Meralgo, a tapas bar that had gotten high-marks from a few sites. The place was fairly busy, but my waiter tried to be as attentive as he could. Although his English was spotty, we understood each other enough so that he could recommend some dishes according to my tastes. I had a cod salad prepared with finely diced tomatoes. He told me it was very representative of traditional Catalonian cuisine. I also had an assortment of sausages which was hit and miss. I’m more a fan of the pancetta if I have to eat pork. I also had an amazing lightly seared tuna filet with soy sauce that I shouldn’t have eaten. Only bottom-feeders from here on out.

Day 4: Portugal Pt. Dois

Se, oldest church in Lisbon

I was out early and decided to trek up to Castelo de Sao Jorge. It resides up in the hills and the structure is visible from almost anywhere in the city. On the way up, I encountered the cathedral, Se. It’s the oldest church in Lisboa, constructed in the early 12th century. Service was in session when I entered. Good to see they were still getting use out of the place. The vaulted ceilings were a good four stories high, maybe more. The place felt absolutely cavernous inside.


I continued on up the hill towards the castle. The neighborhood was very full of interesting architectural details. Almost every apartment had some kind of distinct tile work. There wasn’t a modern building in sight. That’s not a criticism. The castle itself felt more like a fort. It wasn’t small, but there really wasn’t an inside to explore. You could just wander the courtyard and along the walls. The views were expansive, allowing you to take in almost the entire city all the way down to the shore.




The next destination, Igreja da Madre de Deus, was about a mile and a half from the castle. I figured I’d walk the doggies. I find the best way to really learn a place is to walk it. There was no subway stop that would have gotten me closer which was fine. I wanted to actually see as much of the country as possible. The weather was growing increasingly ominous with gray clouds rolling on the horizon. I hoped it wouldn’t be too bad since the weather had been fairly mild up until then.


I wish the guidebook had been more clear on the fact that the church was connected to the Museu Nacional do Azulejo. I walked past the place like three times. The museum didn’t sound too enticing as it is the National Tile Museum. A museum dedicated to the subject makes sense considering how integral tile-making is in Portuguese architecture. I finally figured out the museum’s relationship to the church after a frustrating detour through what looked like a rougher section of town. The tile museum turned out to be interesting in its own right. There are still artists who utilize the medium which I'd never really thought about before. Still the main attraction was the church with its elaborately gilded walls and altars. The decor makes the tastes of an Arab oil sheik seem restrained in contrast.




Rain began to fall steadily by the time I finished exploring the church. I would have ventured out to another well-known site, Mosteiro dos Jeronimos, but visibility had diminished greatly and the light was far from ideal for picture taking. So instead I let things subside and headed over to Bairra Alto again to find dinner. This time wandering up a narrow back alley. An older Portuguese woman, the sleeves of her shirt rolled up, smoking a cigarette motioned for me to come inside her restaurant. “Real Portuguese food, right here. Come in.” I’m always a sucker for salesmanship. Don't make me feel like you're doing me a favor allowing me to eat in your establishment. First rule of any good restauranteur, I believe.


The place was quaint. Felt like a place the locals actually ate at. I had a skewer of cuttlefish, octopus and shrimp. It was excellent. I can’t remember when I last had cuttlefish. It’s not a common dish on the NY restaurant scene, at least I don’t think so. It seemed like something very authentic. Plus I felt good to be eating responsibly. Nothing endangered on my plate.

The rain continued unabated so I retired back to the hotel. Felt like I got a lot out of the day.

It Just Feels So Wrong

There are some really good ideas that we should steal immediately from the Europeans. For instance, many countries in the EU have adopted credit card pin numbers. I've wondered for years why the credit card companies back home don't require this. Wouldn't that cut down on fraud like 90% overnight? I imagine they fear push-back from the merchants since it would require new machinery, but wouldn't it even be worth it to just subsidize it for them? Seems like a no-brainer, no?

One thing I find a bit baffling here though is that when you pay by credit card, there is no line for a tip. You have to pay that by cash. I wonder if that is also to squelch any possibility of fraud. Seems a bit much and can be a hassle at times. I like to conserve cash for things that invariably require it like taxis and cafes.

Last night I ate at a wonderful tapas place I got a heads-up on via the internets. It was called Paco Meralgo, located about a mile from my hotel. I managed to navigate the streets okay, despite the infamous tiny placards the Euros are so fond of. The waitstaff was courteous and accommodating and the food was great, so of course I wanted to leave a tip. Unfortunately, there was no place on the receipt for one and I was fresh out of cash. I kept trying to tell the waiter who'd assisted me that I'd be back once I found an ATM. He assured me it was no issue. I was persistent and left to hunt down a machine. On my way, I came across a loose ten-dollar euro note on the ground. I beamed at my good fortune and scooped it up. I returned to the restaurant and triumphantly slapped it down on the counter. The guy laughed a bit and shook my hand. I think he thought I was a bit nuts.

I'll have to do some research as to why tipping is viewed with such seeming indifference over here. Are waiters paid more? Obviously they don't work off tips, but what's the trade-off? An inquiring mind wants to know...

This Is Why We're Fat

One thing I've noticed about Europe is that the serving sizes are conspicuously smaller than back home. This isn't exactly a shocker, but it is noticeable when you first experience it, especially with beverages (alcohol excepted). Browsing the soft drink section most Americans would think they were looking at kids' drinks. The serving sizes are at least 25%-33% smaller. I might as well be buying a Hi-C juice box.

I probably would be on solid ground to figure that Europeans have a much lower diabetes rate than we do, but from what I understand obesity is rising around the globe. Still, it's interesting to note that I also don't see the hyper-saturation of convenience stores in the places I've visited. And fast-food in the American sense is virtually non-existent. Consumerism in general seems dialed-down a few levels.

What's wrong with these people?

Woman standing outside the American Embassy in downtown Lisbon

Unrelated: Walked into a cafe in Lisbon and "We Are The World" was playing on the radio. Bunch of dirty friggin' hippies on this continent.

Day Three: Hill Street Blues

I arrived in Portugal early Saturday morning. I'm not even sure why I wanted to come here. I know absolutely nothing about the place save for that its inhabitants were supposedly decent sailors (Vasco Da Gama was Clyde Drexler to Columbus's Jordan). The station, Santa Apolonia, was nowhere near as nice as the one in Madrid or even Sevilla. It was pretty bare bones, but still architecturally nice if simple. I was hoping to find a locker where I could put my duffel before leaving out to explore the city. Alas, there were none and I was left to schlep around with the 50lb beast digging into my shoulder. Did I mention there were hills? Lots and lots of hills. All roads that didn’t lead around the coast led up. Up, up and further up. Take the above picture and imagine navigating that for a few hours. That was my introduction to Lisboa.

I mentioned before that there was a bit of a hitch in my flawless planning. Thanks to some quick hustling and my pal, Visa, I managed to circumvent the problem or at least postpone dealing with it. It all started with a...

Train snafu! Note to self: In the future, make sure to check the dates on your tickets before you leave. I specifically told the agent that I needed a ticket for 11/13 leaving Madrid Friday evening at 10:25. I didn’t notice but the ticket was for 11/11! I should have been more thorough, but that is the hazard of doing things last minute. I got to the train station with ten minutes to spare and ended up having to buy an entirely new ticket. The ticketing agent stamped my ticket unused and said customer service would deal with it. Considering that I bought the exact same ticket for the next day, I’m hoping when I get back to the states that I can get a refund or at the very least a voucher for future rail travel. We’ll see.

If I’d have just stuck with my original plan to buy the tickets when I got there, I’d have been just fine a.) and I would have save myself a $20 “handling” fee b.). I mean I’m not traveling in the thick of tourist season. And even if the tickets had been sold out, I would have just taken the (cheaper) flight option. Live and learn.

I’m glad I went ahead and bought the new ticket. The overnight rail experience feels decidedly old school. These days most people wouldn’t bother with a 9-10 hour trip that could be done in a quarter of the time. Not too mention the fact that it's ironically more expensive than flying. Yet there are people who still do it. I can't imagine they're all aerophobic or medically restricted. I'd like to think they're just romantics too.

There is something soothing about listening to a locomotive. I love the hypnotic rumble of the churning wheels. It's not like the dull roar of a jet engine which you just want to drown out. I didn't even bother with my headphones. The accommodations were modest even though it was first-class. Two fold-out bunk beds with a ladder that folded into the wall. Felt like being in a mobile flop house, albeit a well-kempt one. The bed had a thin beige wool blanket like something they might give you in the army...or jail. The mattress was slightly smaller than twin-sized. It barely fit my 6-ft frame. My feet kept coming to rest on the end of the metal frame. Still it was relatively comfortable. Much more so than trying to get a good night’s rest in an actual seat. I was happy that the conductor spoke pretty good English. He kept me posted on everything.


I was excited to experience my first meal in a dining car. It wasn't exactly the Orient Express, but that's alright. Breakfast was a serving of bacon and eggs with assorted breads. I even had a cup of coffee. I never drink coffee. I guess I was feeling European that morning.

So I guess what I'm saying is that if you get a chance, take the train. It's just better. Except when it's Amtrak. Can we get high-speed rail already? Sheesh...

Back to Lisboa...


The first thing I noticed walking the streets was that the sidewalks aren't paved, but tiled. It gives all the streets a unique look and feel. It's as if doing whatever was most efficient wasn't even a consideration. I suppose it's also about heritage and cultural identity. Still, they must be a pain to maintain, but it would be heresy for any urban planner to think about modernizing. As it stands the streets are far more beautiful than any I've ever encountered back home.

Once I stumbled my way into the main square, things got much better. I found Rossio by happenstance after wandering aimlessly through the narrow streets of what I came to learn was the Alfama district. I kept stopping at various cafes to see if they had an internet connection since I had yet to book accommodations for my stay. Finally, I just went to an actual hotel, one that was mentioned in my guidebook as a reasonably-priced option. It's the Heritage Av Liberdade. They were booked for the night, but had an opening for the next which I promptly took. I ended up finding a cheaper if less charming place almost directly across the street from it. So that worked out.


I didn't realize the population of Lisbon was so small; there's only 550,000 people who call the place home. I keep seeing a lot of old ladies in stockings and black walking shoes with scarves around their heads. There are a lot of older men too who look as if they've spent their whole lives working the docks. This should not be surprising as it is the consummate port town.


After settling into my hotel, I took to the streets again in search of an authentic Portuguese meal. I ran into two English girls who allowed me to tag along with them to the Bairro Alto district which had some good restaurants. I ended up at a quaint little seafood place that had a multi-language menu which was nice. I ordered one of the local favorites: salted codfish and potatoes. I also had an octopus salad with tentacle-pieces as wide around as a dill pickle. I think before that I'd only had baby octopus. Not a bad seafood option I have to say. The cod was a bit oilier than what I was used to. Gave it a heartier taste. I'm sure the Portuguese have no problem getting their Omega-3s.

There was a big soccer match going on as well. Portugal was facing Bosnia Herzegovina in a World Cup Qualifier. (This explained all the dudes I saw walking around earlier wearing "Bosnia Forever" t-shirts.) Apparently there was some drama because Cristiano Ronaldo was not playing due to a minor injury. I guess it would be the equivalent of Lebron or Kobe sitting out of a regular season game deciding if your team goes to the playoffs. I watched it up to the point where Portugal scored and it cut away to an apathetic Ronaldo fiddling with his cellphone. I imagine he was busy ensuring that the correct number of supermodels would be waiting aboard his private jet for his trip back to Madrid.


Portugal ended up winning the match, but the after party was a wash, literally, as the rain started coming down much heavier. I had wanted to check out the nightlife, but it would have been dicey to try and negotiate my way around a bunch of slippery tiled inclined streets. I ended up at a cafe near my hotel where a local band was doing a few covers. I caught a nice version of Stevie Wonder's "Isn't She Lovely." And then I called it a night.

21-Effing-Euros?!?!?!?

Loção de Deus

I purchased this at a local pharmacy in downtown Lisbon. Didn't bother looking at the price. I mean, it's lotion right? Sure it gets pricey in the States, but what could the damage be? Twenty-one-effing-euros, that's what it could be! Insane. That's 31 U.S. dollars. Thirty-one dollars. What is this stuff made with? Stem-cells from a newborn angel? Maybe, maybe that could justify the price. We could erase the entire U.S. trade deficit if we just sold this stuff.

Of course I was too embarrassed to look up "I'm a cheap bastard." in Portuguese and just get something else. No, I'm a proud rich American. It's just money. So I bought three bottles just to show the world we still totally own it.

Day Two: I heard I could find a pretty good barber around here?

After a minor (almost big) ordeal, I am in Lisbon. It has taken me three hours to find a place with internet access. This is an old city. As far as I can tell (and this isn't a bad thing), there isn't a Starbucks in the whole town. Plus, I've only seen one, ONE McDonalds! For some reason, I find this extraordinary. Trying to find an internet-capable cafe here has been like trying to find
a virgin in a brothel water in the Sahara. Anyways, I'll get back to Portugal later. For now, Sevilla...

The robustness of public transportation in Europe has not been exaggerated. I was able to take a train from Madrid to Sevilla (distance approximately 330mi) round-trip for less than it would cost to take the Acela from NYC to D.C.(225mi) and in less time. That's a damned shame, America.

You can even take a train to Missouri. Your move, Amtrak.

The ticket agent looked at me as if I was crazy when I told her I wanted to come back the same day. She was like, "You know this cost $120 euros, right?" I nodded and said it was just a day-trip. She didn't recognize the word. I futzed around with my phrasebook for a moment before I decided to drop it. We both smiled politely and went about our business.

The train ride was quite pleasant. There was even a movie, Flash of Genius with Greg Kinnear. I didn’t listen but how many scenes can one take of Greg Kinnear looking forlornly at cars passing by using his "intermittent windshield wipers"-idea the Big Three purloined from him? The answer: one. The plot makes for a great wikipedia entry, but a feature length film? Not so much. But I digress.

I arrived in Sevilla after a smooth two-and-a half hour train ride. I spent an hour wandering around what I assumed to be the city's residential area. I hadn’t bothered doing much recon. That would have been antithetical to the spirit of "winging it". Plus if I found myself pressed for time, I could always ask somebody.

Random apartment complex in residential Sevilla

Sevilla has a calm, rustic air about it. It wears its city clothes very loosely. It's passably modern with mostly mid- to low-rise buildings. It reminds me of suburban Michigan: farmland gussied up with strip malls and hotels. I get the occasional protracted stare which is somewhat odd considering they do have an African population (of what size I’m not sure). Much like their New York brethren they seem to be mainly street merchants, hustling the latest in designer knock-off watches, garments and DVDs.

Hustling is universal

Walking around I saw a lot of backpacks and teenagers; school had just let out. The kids are as fashionable as their New York counterparts. But so are the women and men. You don’t see too many sloppily dressed people in general. Also the people look mostly healthy. Not a lot of obesity but not entirely absent either.

The dedication to public transportation including the accommodation of cyclists, is admirable. I can see NYC adopting some of these measures. We’ve already increased the amount of bike lanes back home. Now if Bloomberg can resurrect congestion pricing and the MTA can pull itself from the brink of insolvency, we might continue to see progress. Don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of cars on the streets here. Mostly compacts, with a few mid-size sedans peppered throughout. What I don’t see are SUVs. Not a one. Not even so much as a Range Rover.

Self-service bike rental stations are all over the place.

After wandering a bit I came across a bridge/overpass at the apex of which I could see what looked like a minaret. I kept walking and eventually came to the tourist section of Sevilla. A mix of cobblestone streets and narrow alleyways spread out before me. Negotiating the windy passageways was fascinating, because people actually lived there. There were all kinds tell-tale signs like laundry hanging from clotheslines, open windows and what I assumed were "For Rent"-signs. The neighborhood was chocked full of restaurants and souvenir shops literally around every corner. It was a perfectly balmy day; high sixties, low seventies maybe. Turns out I came at the best time of year.

I eventually stumbled upon Catedral de Santa María de la Sede. The level of detail is impressive to say the least. Unfortunately, I couldn't go inside due to renovations being done. On a side note, I allowed myself to get hustled out of a few euros by some gypsies selling palm readings. I didn't feel too bad, because I had spent so little on my trip so far. Plus, she had really poor dental health, so maybe my handful of euros will help correct that.

The other buildings were as impressive as I head been lead to believe. A seamless mix of Islamic, Christian and Spanish architecture. However, and this seems to happen often with me, I wasn’t blown away. I blame this squarely on the continued improvements in photography and the ubiquity of great photography on the internet.

Even if I haven’t sought them out, I have seen these pictures or images quite similar literally thousands of times.

Imagine traveling in the late 1700’s or early nineteenth century. All you had was word of mouth. Descriptions were all orally communicated. Obviously I wouldn’t want to be traveling in the nineteenth century (my people did quite a bit of it back then; all one-way), but I envy the sense of discovery travelers must have felt. All that’s gone now.

It seems as if almost everything on Earth, even at the depths of the ocean, has been photographed a million times and those images disseminated and viewed exponentially. This has been a blessing for the millions of people who are unable or unwilling to seek out these places in person, but it has been a curse for those with any sense of adventure (perhaps this overstates the case--it’s been a curse for me, inveterate internet surfer that I am).

My emotional response to seeing the "exotic" borders on anhedonic. I feel like if I were able to travel in space and see like Jupiter up close, I'd say, "Yeah, that's Jupiter. Just like those Hubbell pics. Yup...can we go home now?" Oh don't be such a jaded bastard, you prick--I have to remind myself.

So I don’t fancy being a photo-documenting turista so much. If I had my druthers, I'd delve into a bit of urban anthropology. I would rather sit at a café and engage the locals about politics and world events, but my inability to speak the language pretty much seals off that avenue. I want to take Spanish when I return to the states. I want to at least be able to use more than the handful of Spanish words I learned in my formative years watching Sesame Street (Big Bird taught me how to ask for water in espanol: “Agua, por favor”). End digression...

Looking at some of the other places in Andalucia, I realize I could spend an entire season here and see something new each day. I’d love to visit Granada, Malaga, Cordoba and Cadiz, not to mention Bilbao or Pamplona up north. And everything's so easy to get to...