Backpacking

Well after the farm in Italy I hopped over to Roma, planning to get to Milano for my flight the next day. It turns out all the trains were booked, so I got a ticket for the next morning at 7:30. Because of daylight savings time, I accidentally woke up not at 6, but 7... ran to the station and arrived in time to watch the doors of my train shut. I went and knocked on them anxiously, but no one would open them up... I stood helpless for a good two minutes before the train finally departed. So I got the next one, and cut it really close... I was convinced that I'd miss my flight. The stress of travel.

Anyways, I arrived in Istanbul and made it to my hostel... Bahaus. It's fantastic, a chilled out atmosphere, great lounge area. Very easy to meet people. Istanbul... I am really impressed. The middle eastern influence is apparent, but it is far more developed than Morocco, which surprised me. It is a liberal city, with loads of bars and clubs and a nice alternative scene. The shopping is cheap, the carpets are plenty, and the food is incredible. There is the old bazaar and spice bazaar, both full-on closed markets, selling all the silver, gold, scarves, belly-dancing costumes, rugs, spices, oils. Yet just across a bridge is taksim, which is completely modern and European style.

I've explored the city and done a lot of window shopping, visited numerous mosques, one in which we were actually allowed to witness the men's prayer (!!). I saw a whirling dervish performance, tasted turkish delight, and smoked shishah, had too many glasses of tea to count.

I am happy to once again bear witness to the eerie sound of the prayer call... yesterday we went out to some clubs and came home to the sound of the morning prayer (5:30). I leaned out the window for a brief moment to catch the dark inertia of Istanbul, pre-sunrise. Magical.

I have landed in Rome. I arrived at a hostel I had chosen, sans booking. I had walked miles, I'm sure. They didn't have a bed, and the manager sat on my new sunglasses. C'est la vie! I got reimbursed for the glasses and offered a good deal to stay there tomorrow night. Life works.

I spent some time in Firenze, visited a pile of churches and saw much art. The statue of David was beautiful, of course, but I am sick of renaissance art -- how many images of the virgin and child or distinguished noblemen will it take for my mind to shut down? I saw a strange mimed Baroque comedy with a Texan -- great fun. Anyways Firenze had some beautiful parks and quaint cafes, in between the throngs of tourists.

I followed these throngs, to the Cinque Terre, a UNESCO world heritage site, five tiny mountanous coastal towns with hiking trails in between them that are truly stunning. And then, the throngs led me to Siena, where the buildings glow with a dirty pink shade and everyone sits in a main piazza in the sun, just chilling.

The throngs of tourists... I dislike being a tourist, though I am one. Is this a paradox? I believe so. I am all supporting of travel and seeing the world, but each person that visits a place puts a certain amount of detriment on the place, dilluting the culture and subtly taking away from the thing that makes the place something to see. I am conscious of my own doing, each time I buy a postcard, or fail to speak the local language when asking for help.

On the other hand, tourists support the country and it's economy. I struggle to find a happy medium in this problem with so many sides... how can I travel and not just be one of the dumb, gaping tourists? Or is this inevitable?

Well I did the Barcelona thing after a 12 hour train ride. The hostel I stayed in was massive and business-like. As usual I met a cool crew to fool around with. I went out a bit, and have to say that the Barcelona nightlife isn't everything I was told it would be. I still had some fun and danced, met a Spanish circus acrobat at one club! Life is random.

Las Ramblas is the main kind of pedestrian street in the old town. It's filled with cafes, stalls selling fresh flowers, and scores of shops set up selling pets; they have turtles, iguanas, mice, rabbits, chickens, doves, fish, ferrets, and everything in between. Even some animals I could not identify. There are no-legged beggars and guys selling beer illegally in between the throngs of well/groomed northern European tourists. Also in the square are people dressed in outlandish costumes, those statue/people street performers. One guy is dressed in black, face hidden, cape flowing as if he is not alive.... then when an unsuspecting tourist passes by, he screams and jumps at them. I don't know how he makes a living.

Barcelona is quite interesting. Architecturally fantastic; if you are bored look up Antonio Gaudi on google images, and you will see what I see. His buildings are so rounded and colourful and just add a feel of fantasy to the city when you stumble upon them.

Last night I didn't sleep a wink, I stayed up with some Australians, an American girl and the hostel bartender. I had to catch a 3:00am bus to the airport and my alarm clock died long ago. I don't even own a watch anymore. So I flew into Pisa, saw the LEANING TOWER. It was pretty in the morning light when none of the tourist booths were open and I was the only one with a camera. Then hopped a train to Florence, and here I am, in Italy. It has a really different feel. And the food is great, veggie friendly and not so ham-oriented like Spain and Portugal.

By the way on the train I think I saw some kind of an angel. An angel in babouches.

I am currently in Sevilla, and today has been a collection of deja-vus from the brief amount of time I spent here two years ago on the sightseeing trip I did of Andalucia. Today I walked a lot and followed the scent of my memories, sniffing out a familiar cafe and shoestore, I could almost see Emily and I gleefully eating strange salads and buying 10 Euro boots.

I saw some flamenco again, this time raw and real. Ate the tapas, drank the local drink at the regular watering holes. We found a club that was really happening and I got a chance to shake off some tension.

I also visited the Alcazar today, a moorish palace in the heart of the town. It was absolutely beautiful, from room to room, eyes captured by the tile, woodwork, handpainted ceilings and domed doorways. Suddenly I entered the garden, and the beauty struck me so that I cried. I am going back tomorrow, to wander the empty rooms and manicured gardens alone, pretending I am a princess.

I am so incredibly in love with the moorish past, Morocco and Andalucia and the trail of Arabs from the east. The architecture, the culture, the intensity and the power of man and woman. The sexuality and sensuality unlike anything I´ve seen in the west.

Over the past week I travelled from Lisbon to Lagos, where I laid on the cliffs and the beach. Some friends and I rented a car and drove to the most western point of Europe, we settled in a cave on a cliffside overlooking the ocean and had port and cheese at sunset.

The next day a disturbing thing happened to me and I temporarily lost faith in men. I moved on to Faro, which was quaint but uninteresting. I had trouble sleeping because there was literally an orchestra practising right nextdoor to my room -- what are the odds. Anyways, came back to Spain and felt at home again. Spain is a breath of fresh air for me, it is as foreign for me as anywhere else but I really feel it.

Porto was a nice town. I spent a lot of time there walking around the city, windowshopping and gaping at the old buildings. There is a nice feel to the place, the older buildings are not restored so cracks, weathering and moss adds a really interesting element to everything. I visited the beach, crossed the river and learned all about port wine and sampled some; climbed and descended many a hill. I met some fabulous people there and had a lot of laughs over wine or dinner in the hostel.

On my last night we went in search of the mysterious "party on a boat". We ended up drinking at a local cafe bar until 1, and then danced to Portuguese music on a boat until morning. The Polish guy and I had been talking for hours and the others left without us so we walked back, when we arrived at the hostel the "birds were playing".

The next night I stayed in Ovar in search of Carnaval, missing a big parade by a few hours. I headed on to Lisbon where everyone was dressed up that night in the Barrio Alto, every kind of mask or costume. Barhopped with Shakirah, Daniel and Pedro, the former being Brazillian. It was a fun night. The next day a carnaval parade. I saw the monuments, visited Cascais and Sintra for the shore and the moorish castle. Took a Portuguese class, tried the green wine.

Went to an exhibition of modern film art here, saw Belem and many of the beautiful things hiding in Lisbon´s seven hills. The city is calm and beautiful, the people friendly. It is very modern, but you van still hear the echoes of fado drifting from a lone guitar in some small plazas, and see some old buildings that illustrate their age.

Time goes on, I go on. To the Algarve!