Viva La Espana

Day 12

Our red-eye flight from Crete took a couple hours to drop us off in Barcelona where we quickly transferred to reach Seville. We landed early in the morning and took a shuttle bus into the center. The hostel was not difficult to find, but it was a good walk from the main sites. We arrived well before check-in time so we had to wait, but I used that time to ask the receptionist a bunch of questions about the city. We grabbed an unhealthy breakfast from a mini-market that was not nearly as helpful as the ones in Greece ending up with crackers and pre-packaged pastries with a mystery creme filling. Our room was ready an hour early so we decided to take a nap because we were both exhausted.

Around noon we headed off and right away realized that it was significantly hotter than it ever was in Greece. It was so hot that I went out of my way to stay in the shade from the buildings above whenever possible. The older heart of the city was full of plazas, trees, and shops. We passed by the cathedral before walking all around the Alcazar (castle) looking for the entrance and stopping through the university building that used to be a huge cigar factory. The building had several courtyards with fountains and broad staircases along with some bustle from students at work.

Upon reaching the Alcazar, we realized the entry fees had gone up significantly in just a year since my travel book was published. It was about 10 euros, as much as the Acropolis in Athens, but to see these sights and take in the history and culture was the main reason we were here. Although the outer facades and rooms built well after the Christian reconquest of the city were not impressive, the gardens and the Moorish sections of the palace made it well worth the entry fee.

For some crucial historical background, Muslim tribesman from North Africa crossed into Spain in 711 and quickly swept control away from the Visigoth Christian inhabitants. The invaders were eventually stopped at the Battle of Tours in France and left to establish Muslim Spain known as Al-Andalus. Over time, Muslim unity and power faded and the Christian princes in the north began a campaign to reclaim their former territory. The initial successes of the Christians were temporarily halted by two more waves of Berber invasions, but by the 13th century they gained the upper hand. It was not until 1492, after the marriage of Isabella and Ferdinand united Spain, that Granada, the last Muslim-ruled city in Spain, was reconquered bringing an end to over 7 centuries of warfare. This military tradition was then aimed at the New World as conquistadors plundered and enslaved the Native Americans.

The vast gardens, a Spanish staple, displayed a variety of rich colors and flora complimented by beautiful fountains. The middle section was separated by a wall with an arched walkway and included a waterfall spitting from the wall above and a hydraulic organ fountain that played a tune every hour based on the flow of the water. Then we entered the Moorish courtyards and rooms that immediately struck us with the quintessential allure of delicate architectural and culture that was the treasure of southern Spain. We walked slowly through the rooms taking pictures from all angles and then lingered for an hour to take intricate details and curves surrounding us.

Having spent several hours, it was now late afternoon so we decided to return to our hostel catch a flamenco show. We chose one that seemed professional yet reasonable and trudged our way back toward the city-center. Flamenco is a dance native to Andalucia that was born out of struggles and passion of the Roma community. There were five performers: one played guitar, two of them clapped and sang, and two of them danced. The show started slowly with instrumentals followed by soul-stirring song, and finished with a crescendo of clapping and dancing. The two dancers, one girl and one guy, were full of expression and energy and their movements and tapping were very impressive. The whole performance seemed partly improvised as they shouted out things like "baile" and looked to each other for what would come next. That night, we grabbed some pinchos and beer followed by an Egyptian kebab sandwich that we split on the way back to our hostel.

Day 13

We slept in and then I began to look ahead in our itinerary to figure out the next several days. After making some inquiries, getting to and back from Morocco looked like it was going to be more difficult than originally hoped and I wrestled with how to approach this issue. After a couple hours, I was losing hope that it would fit into our itinerary, but after discussing it with Hans, we decided to go for it and figure things out as we went. I bought and cooked us brunch while Hans continued to journal and upload photos. Just in time we discovered that the cathedral close very early so we hurried back to the center to finish the sights.

The cathedral had a massive sanctuary with mighty soaring pillars. The tomb of Christopher Columbus was guarded by four iron soldiers. Frustratingly, both the main altar and the reliquary which were regarded among the finest in Europe were both closed. My enjoyment was jaded by the frustrating limitations of the day, but climbing the bell tower to look over the church and the orange-tree courtyard with the city sprawling beyond was a great view point.

We left the church heading towards the river and walked around the bullring then down to the Golden Tower. This watchtower helped guard the ships loaded with treasures from the New World coming up the Guadalquivir into the heart of Seville. Inside was a naval museum containing models of the ships from Columbus' first voyage. Next, we continued south to the city park surrounding the Plaza de Espana that was framed by a massive cresent-shaped building. There was a central fountain flanked by a waterway with row boats passing under the arches of several bridges.This plaza was built to showcase the glory of Spain for the 1929 world fair held in Seville. It is likely that this project helped to bankrupt the country contributing to the Spanish civil war before WWII. The building was stunning in its design and detail that exhibited the fusion of styles that make Spain so dynamic and was so large that it could not fit into a panorama shot.

To finish the day, we again lingered as the sun set taking in the square from different perspectives. We slowly explored the streets looking for a good food or flamenco offer, decided to seek direction at the hostel, then found our way to a bar with a free show after using a "little maneuver from the Battle of Taanab." With that quote from Star Wars, I will take this opportunity to mention some of the saying that were abused on our trip. "Why didn't you say so before...I did say so before; It's over, I have the high ground; My friend doesn't like you...I don't like you either; Legolas, what do your elf-eyes see; That's a good sales strategy; Let's go away for a while, you and I, on a Holiday; dropkick...; Neo...da-nah-nah-nah-nah...sporin; and Dude, no."

The show was notably less professional and less intense than the other, but it was still full of emotion and it was good to have another perspective. While we were watching and talking, I was scoping out the scene as normal and was noticing a lot of interesting dynamics. When I told Hans about some of these things he told me I needed to go into the army because of the way my mind works confirming my notion that I would have been a good soldier if I was not an ardent pacifist. The only observation of note was that there were two girls who kept staring at us...eventually this played itself out as they approached us and told us they interested in where we were from because they heard us speaking English, which is actually fairly rare in southern Spain. Turns out they were part of a six-credit masters ESL program where all they did was travel around in Spain for three weeks, spending most of their nights drinking with their professor. Quite a demanding educational program.

Day 14

The next morning we packed up, check-out, and asked about getting to the bus station. The hostel worker told us it was much quicker to take the city bus, so we did. It was a good walk to get to the stop, several minutes before the bus came, and then it was painfully slow in traffic and stopping everywhere. We arrived just at our bus just at departure time and ran in figuring we would catch it, but it was not there. No, it was not a time change, it had actually left early. I had never seen a bus even leave right on time before, not to mention early, so needless to say we were frustrated with the situation and ourselves for somehow missing another bus. The next one did not leave for over four hours which would really kill us considering we were already short on time. I fumbled around in the ticket lines trying to gather information from people who mostly did not speak English and eventually formulated a plan. We would switch our itinerary by taking the soon departing bus to Ronda, running through there in a couple hours, then make our way down to the coast for one of the last ferries across to Morocco that day.

That is how things played out. We drove for the first time through the beautiful countryside of Andalucía. The landscape was arid, but still had a lot of green with an occasional white-washed hilltop town. We arrived at Ronda, what I had chosen as the most beautiful and dramatic of these towns, and wasted no time in making our way to the old town. We aligned our exit strategy by buying our train tickets and stored our luggage across the street at a hotel.

Unburdened, we walked to the bullring, considered the most beautiful and dangerous in Spain, to the Puente Nuevo, the visual highlight and crossing point into the old town. This bridge feels like it must be from some fantasy world as it spans over a 400 ft. deep chasm with a waterfall descending from its foundations. The sheer cliffs on either side assure a once-and-done fall, and the room below the bridge surface was actually used as a prison and torture chamber because of this glaring possibility.

We got several views from the top of the bridge and chasm below before venturing into the old town and finding a path down one side of the chasm for a head-on view of the bridge. This was a truly magnificent scale, and if we had more time we would have so loved climbing around the chasm because there were iron ladder rungs driven into the rock allowing you to climb down further. But alas, time constraints forced us to be less adventurous so we walked along the path under the bridge and then back up to the old town. We walked around the cobblestone streets through twisting rows of white buildings and found a small plaza mayor with a church and town hall before working our way back to the bridge, to the hotel to retrieve our bags, and onto our train which of course was quite late...whatever is most inconvenient, so shall it be.

The train sliced through the beautiful countryside running along a gorge most of the way to Algeciras, or, as Hans liked to say, “Algae Circus”. After arriving at the station, we crossed the street to the bus station and hopped on the shuttle bus to Tarifa that went every half hour. The bus climbed up into the hills and we saw a broad mountain rising from the sea that we figured was Gibraltar, the tiny peninsula jutting out from Spain still considered a British territory. However, as we entered Tarifa and saw the coastline below us, we realized we were looking across the Strait of Gibraltar and into the Atlas Mountains of Morocco. Neither of us thought it was possible to see so clearly across, but it seemed that on a clear day, anyone could monitor all activity on the Straight from a lookout.

We were dropped off at a shack away from the center, so we asked directions and walked quickly toward the port. This town was full of extreme sports enthusiasts and shops as apparently it is a great place to windsurf. We soon found an office for the ferry company we were looking for (for some reason the only company to run a ferry direct to Tangier port rather than the new massive commercial port far to the east called Tangier Med) and bought tickets for a ferry that was scheduled to depart in five minutes. Tightening our packs as we left, we ran down the hill to the dock and were the last ones to board. There were not any great observation areas so we settled for a small open-air deck in the corner often pounded by black smoke from the exhaust. The customs form and check was done on board and it was not very tedious since so many people cross the Strait regularly. The journey took about 35 minutes. Tangier was set on a promontory jutting out before the coast headed south with sprawling resorts expanding to the east.

During the short journey between continents everything changed. The city looked worn down and lacking any planning. The people had darker, more weathered skin and spoke Arabic. Things were less organized and were governed by a different set of cultural norms. It seemed time stood still during our journey to Tarifa then to Tangier because it worked out that there is a two-hour time change backward during the summer.

Glad to be away from money scavengers, we explored the streets as the sun set. To our surprise, we discovered that there was only one main street with tourist cafes and fruit or vegetable stands. It seemed to be at a low-time with few tourists in sight. We bought some dates and nuts in a shop then walked up the street out of the old city to a church on the hill top catching a partial glimpse over the old city. It was difficult to find a way back into the old part, which showed a lack of consistent street planning. By the time we returned, darkness had fallen and the streets were nearly abandoned. We realized that during Ramadan, the people would fast during the daytime and wait until the sun went down to go home to eat with their families.

We left an overpriced restaurant and found a hole in the wall and stumbled through communication with the man that we could get soup, bread, and tea for very cheap. Because Morocco was colonized by the French, many of the local people speak French in addition to Arabic but most do not speak English. He brought over two bowls of steaming pea soup that was very good and I copied a Moroccan man who put chili powder in the soup to make it scrumptious. He brought over the tea just as my mouth was screaming from the spice. I instantly recognized the taste from my time in Egypt and Jordan where the tea is served very sweet and with mint leaves.

Hans and I wanted to see more of the old city, so we wandered through the dark and empty streets with all the buildings closed up feeling like members of a strike squad. There were two young men standing outside and they asked what we were doing and told us the streets were dangerous at this time and that we should stay to eat with them. We decided against it, told them we would be careful, and found our way through the twisting streets to the fortress we had seen from across the city. We passed under the main wall and out onto the old battlements that included some huge canons facing the harbor. After taking in this nighttime perspective, we headed back to the main street and entered another restaurant where the waiter offered a sample dish of the many traditional foods that the people ate during Ramadan. There was stuffed fish, couscous, sliced potatoes, dates, and hard-boiled eggs.

As we ate, there was a call to prayer on the television showing the words in Arabic with nature scenes as the background. This came in the middle of an Arabic show where all the main characters were ladies dressed modestly yet with colorful Bollywood-esque style while several men were depicted as silly or stubborn providing comedic relief. I found this a valuable perspective into the changing culture where women were growing in their privileges and standing often becoming well-educated professionals, while the men are often holding on to the ways of the past and may be seen as lazy or stubborn.

After finishing we headed back to our hostel amidst streets that were populated again by locals who came out after eating at home. We braved our bathroom containing a Turkish squatter toilet with a hose for flushing. The shower was filthy and freezing because there was no heat, but I felt good afterwards. There was a terrace on the roof from where you could see most of the other buildings had terraces allowing you to partially navigate the city by climbing around the rooftops. We were tired and it seemed late because of the time change, so we decided to go to bed and wake up early to explore more of the city in the morning.

Day 15

Having no tour book for Morocco, I had no idea what was there and where to go, but we forged a new path and eventually saw signs directing us toward the Kasbah. I was excited because we would get to “rock the Kasbah” as confusingly proclaimed by the Clash. The buildings seemed to be getting older were painted according to street. There was blue, red, green, and orange streets decked with arches, hanging carpets, plants, ornate doors, and lots of cats. We were glad we decided to explore more because this was the most beautiful part of the old city and it reminded us of Jerusalem. Then we arrived at the Kasbah, which turned out to be the Arabic name for citadel, composed of an inner gate and wall at the highpoint of the old city just like a Greek acropolis. Unfortunately, there was not really anything to climb up on or go inside, so we soon headed back to the hostel to grab our packs and made our way back to the port to catch a ferry back to Spain.

The young woman at the ticket booth was an example of the evolving culture that I mentioned in relation to the TV show. We chatted for a bit and I learned that she spoke excellent English, was single, a college graduate, and a descendent from the traditional Berber people. I asked if she would have an arranged marriage and she responded “No, we are not like what you think. Many people in Morocco are now open-minded like the rest of the world.” I asked if her parents were an arranged marriage, and she said yes. I found it interesting how she seemed to label the Arabic/Islamic traditions of the older generations as closed-minded. It is likely that people practiced arranged marriage because they believed it was best in their context, not simply because they rejected other ideas. I would have liked to push her on this oversimplification, but we had a ferry to catch.

That morning it was hazy and cloudy so we definitely could not see across the straits. We crossed in much the same way we had passed before and we were pleasantly surprised to be greeted by a free shuttle bus back to Algeciras. This time we were unable to see the mountain across the sea but we did identify Gibraltar. One board, I met a mission man with his family who were on a vacation/missions trip supporting an organization that helps recent migrants from North Africa who are struggling to start a life in Spain. We talked about culture and missions, so it was nice to connect about the recent work being done.

We arrived at the port of Algeciras, so we had to find our way across the streets to the bus station. This was an industrial port town with little of interest so all we stopped for on the way was to grab two wonderful falafel gyros. Unfortunately, we had to wait for an hour and a half for the next bus to Malaga. Hans went out shopping with no success while I stayed at the station holding our bags, reading, and observing some of the classic characters including a guy who sat down next to everyone to joke about something before asking for a cigarette.

The bus to Malaga was hot enough for me to sweat making it difficult to sleep. Upon arrival, we learned that we had another 80 minutes until our bus left for Granada, so we decided to quickly venture into the city-center. It took much longer to reach the center than we thought meaning that as soon as we reached the Cathedral, we had to turn back. Unable to leave our packs at the station, our frantic walk was exhausting and would leave our legs sore for the next several days. While limited, this venture did give us an opportunity to take in the feeling of a modern city in Spain and gain perspective on popular culture.

Hans and I acknowledged that Spanish women were one of the most strikingly and consistently beautiful female populations in the world with tanned skin and prominent features. Revealing, ripped, or draping clothes, glasses, piercings, tattoos, and unique hairstyles featuring one shaved side of the head were all in style. There were tons of groups of young people walking or loitering in the streets not paying attention to those around them. They were usually loud and tangibly resisted their socialization into a “professional” lifestyle. In Greece, there was 60% unemployment for people under 30 and, while the economic climate in Spain was less severe, this was manifested through a growing sub-culture, particularly among the youth. This group questioned authority and the establishment resulting in anarchy-themed graffiti covering the subways and buildings; since education no longer seemed to lead directly to a job, they resisted it along with conformity to related patterns of behavior; having lost hope in the “system”, they seemed to value relationships and interactions with a diversity of people very highly. This is a poignant example of how connected economic and political conditions can be with the development of culture.

We reached our bus and traveled through beautiful countryside that was growing greener as we climbed in elevation with the Sierra Nevada’s rising in the distance. We took a local bus into the center and hopped off near our hostel after catching a glimpse of the Cathedral. We checked in and found a wonderful mini-market where we got all the fixins and ate in the shaded square where thousands of birds all of a sudden starting going crazy at dusk. Hans and I debated equipping ourselves with armor and swords from local shops in order to fend off the avian apocalypse. We printed our ticket reservations for the Alhambra and then found a street full of bars and Moorish-style shops. We bought some kaffiyehs then got a drink with free tapas at two different bars before returning to our hostel.  Back in our room we had a long laugh when the ladder on the bunk-bed loudly crashed to the floor after I pushed it with my foot while asking Hans if it could be removed. We had our answer likely at the cost of disturbing the sleep of others.

Day 16

In the morning, we walked up through the city to the Alhambra where we had an entry time of 10am into the Nasrid Palaces (the highlight of the sight). We were supposed to have a half-hour window to visit the palaces in an effort to control the over 3 million people who visit the sight every year. However, Hans and I quickly noticed there was no easy way to identify and push visitors through so we lingered in the halls of the Moorish palaces for hours. The first of the great courtyards had a long pool with a fountain and seven delicately pillars on either side meant to represent paradise. The most famous courtyard contained the original fountain propped up by 12 lion statues surrounded by intricately-carved pillared walkways that resembled the halls of elves. We stood at different places throughout this courtyard taking in the overwhelming amount of effort behind the artwork and waiting for hordes of tourists to pass by so we could take pictures. Throughout the palaces, it was incredible how every surface was beautiful and unique including walls, floors, and ceilings.

After exiting the Nasrid Palaces, we visited the palace of Carlos V, which was a two tiered colonnade surrounding an open circular courtyard (like a small coliseum). Hans and I took some more disruptive jumping time-shots before visiting the small museum with Bobadil the Moor’s sword on site then exiting to visit the Alcazar. The towers and ramparts still mostly intact on this old castle perked our sense of adventure as we imagined being stationed there hundreds of years ago. We lingered on the tower that most protruded itself out into the valley and city below for half an hour to take in one of my favorite 360 degree views. There were panorama shots aplenty with the castle ruins and the palaces behind framed by rolling hills, the white-capped Sierra Nevada’s in the distance, the white-washed city built in tiers on the slopes below and the wonderful Andalucian countryside beyond. There was also the flagpole where the flag of Spain was raised after Granada was captured by Ferdinand and Isabella in January 1492 signifying the end of the Reconquista.

On our way out of the Alcazar we wandered about this main area of the Alhambra complex through fountained gardens, a Moorish bathhouse, and an old convent that was turned into a luxurious hotel. We then crossed to the upper part of the complex containing a vast, organized gardens with trickling pools, shaped hedgerows, and massive roses. We approached to enter the Generalife palaces when the guard informed us that our visitation window had expired so we could not visit. We were confused because we thought there was only a time limitation on the Nasrid Palaces, but there was also a morning and afternoon division. Since we had seen all the highlights, my frustration was limited but Hans was furious as the this misfortune was piled on top of all the others we had already experienced. He wanted to climb over walls and sneak in, but I convinced him it was not worth it so we made our way out of the Alhambra.

The twisting alternate path back down had drainage troughs cut all the way down fed by a spring, so we found some leaves and sticks and enjoyed the epic race as they floated down the trough and passed impending obstacles. Once we reached the cobblestone streets, we stopped in at a couple shops and found a guy on the streets who wrote our names in Arabic script on parchment before returning to the city-center. Needing to rest and refuel to continue on our long day, we found our mini-market and indulged in another feast in the shaded square near our hostel. There were two girls eating nearby who seemed to be talking about us, so I stared at them until they addressed us. They were both American college students who were hired as escorts to a group of high-school students that were on a several week tour of Spain apparently focused on learning the Spanish language. Being paid by a tour company to travel while you supervised a group of students sounds like quite the gig.

After resting our full stomachs, we visited the Capilla Real or royal chapel where Ferdinand and Isabella were entombed. The chapel contained a large painted altarpiece and carved reliefs of the royal family as displayed before burial with steps leading down to the iron-caskets below. We returned to the Arabesque street to look at more wares and then found the old gate marking the entrance to the Aybazin or Muslim quarter. We made our way up the winding streets lined with houses, cafes, and churches. Using our map we found a church with a lookout that we paid to climb up and it was worth it for one of the best views of the town and the Alhambra perched on the opposite hill as the sun began to set.

Unable to do anything halfway, we decided to climb all the way up the hill to San Miguel Alto. We paused for a couple different lookouts as the lighting changed before rising out of the town and up the dirt path to the church where many locals had now gathered with their dogs to watch the sunset. We sat on the wall as night fell, the moon rose, and the lights of the city came alive. I tried to soak in the complexities of Granada as the darkness stirred new feelings while thinking about the words of local poet Federico Lorca who was assassinated by nationalists during the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War.

“Your elegy, Granada, is spoken by the stars,

which from the heavens perforate your black heart.

It is spoken by the lost horizon of your valley,

it is repeated solemnly by the ivy that yields

to the silent caress of the old tower.

You, city of dreams and of the full moon,

which harbored gigantic passions of love

that have since died, rest on red hills

with the sorrowful accent of the sweet nightingale

among the aged ivy of your ruins.”

Yet the night was only just beginning. Hans and I descended back through the streets with a sequence of lively crowded squares followed by quiet, dark alleys. Eventually, we were back to the warm glow of the main Moorish street where we gorged on a large pizza and a beer before scouting out the teterias (tearooms) before settling on one to relax in late into the night. There were several shadowy rooms divided by carved wooden screens each with their own low table surrounded by seats cushioned by an assortment of embroidered pillows. We sat in the main room at a table across from the bar and ordered apple flavored hookah along with hand-pressed teas containing nectarine, hibiscus, ginger, chamomile, mint, and pomegranate loaded with sugar cubes. We slowly sipped and smoked during our lazy conversation allowing ourselves to be lulled into leisure by the swelling fragrances and winking lanterns.

Day 17

Being fed up with missing buses, we gave ourselves extra time to get up, eat, and take a local bus to the bus station, but the traffic was terrible making our hearts pound. We arrived at the station a couple minutes before departure time so I sent Hans to get the tickets while I held the bus until I arrived by standing outside acting stressed saying that my friend was in the bathroom. Hans came a couple minutes after departure and it turned out that we needed to buy tickets on the bus because we were late, but we were off. The bus was hot because the AC was broken, so we were sweating as we slowly climbed up in elevation to hills covered with olive trees and into Cordoba. We walked into the old city and located the Alcazar, which we debated going into because it looked lame in comparison to others we had seen. The rooms by the entrance built later by the Christians were very disappointing, but I received a jolt of delight when I wandered out into the extensive palace gardens full of colorful flowers packed closely together. After strolling through, I continued up to the ramparts to stumble upon Hans who seemed quite pleased. There was a great lookout tower and a dark pigeon-infested room with a powerful Gothic-style vaulted ceiling where we lingered for a good while trying to take timed shots after we discovered that I could blast Hans with rays of light streaming from one of the window slits.

Many of the other sights seemed to close early, so we walked through the Jewish quarter and caught a glimpse of the old Sephardic synagogue (one of 4 remaining in Spain) before slipping into the Sephardic museum just before it closed. One of the workers mentioned that there are more French tourists to Andalucía than English-speaking tourists. This explained why many people at sites or in hostels did not speak English well unlike in Greece where everyone seemed to speak English. The museum was housed in a restored Jewish house and was designed to promote awareness of Sephardic culture, so they allowed us to visit at our own pace without being pushed out. There was exhibits on the Inquisition, Jewish practices, gold weaving, and we both surprised to find out that the hand symbol containing an eye, known as Hamsa, has been incorporated into Jewish (representing the hand of Miriam), Muslim, and even Christian traditions in much of the Middle East and North Africa. I had always understood these totems of “the all-seeing eye” to be a pagan superstition used to thwart evil, but this is another example for how much culture, religion, and worldview are intertwined and even inseparable.

By the time we got out we were very hungry, but we realized that everything was either closed or closing early because it was Sunday. We looked for a reasonable place to eat, but the only thing open was a tourist restaurant with expensive entrees. With a lot of daylight left, we wandered around Cordoba to get a feel for the city and to find areas to explore. But we were exhausted, and just as hope of finding a meal seemed to fade, we were rescued by a Subway. Never have I been so excited to “eat fresh” as we both savored our reasonable 12’ hoagies. Next, we meandered in the orange tree courtyard of the Mezquita before crossing the long bridge over the Guadalquivir River that dated back to Roman times. Fortunately, this slower day allowed us to go to bed early and catch up on sleep.

Day 18

Our bus for Madrid was leaving around 10:00 in the morning, so we had to quickly execute our plan to check out of our room and visit the Mezquita for free during the 8:00 morning visit before running back to the hostel to grab our packs and running to the station to catch the bus. The Mezquita, far and beyond the highlight of Cordoba, is a massive Cathedral built over and incorporated into a breath-taking medieval mosque. This mosque is renowned for its countless rows of delicate red and white striped double archways supporting massive indoor space that would have seemed out of this world to any Christian visiting this site during the European dark ages. At the front of the church is the beautiful gold-adorned space of the old mosque’s Mihrab facing east toward Mecca (and Jerusalem). The space is full of unique chapels and halls where the fusion of styles is breathtaking. You simply need to look at my pictures because no description will do it justice.

Upon being ushered out at 9:00 wishing we could remain longer, we followed the plan and arrived at the bus station in plenty of time only to find out that the station was packed and our bus was already full and we would have to wait 4 hours for the next bus. We tried to sneak on by putting our bags under the bus and handing our tickets to see if the driver would skim over the time, but naturally he saw it and told us we were on the wrong bus, so we acted surprised and frustrated and got our bags. We considered taking the train to Madrid, but dismissed that idea when we found out it cost 80 euros a person. We walked back into town and this was one of many times throughout the trip where we stopped at a toy store to check for Hans’ mini-figures, but they didn’t have any, so we decided to drown our sorrows by shoving our faces. There was an amazing market where we used a shopping cart and bought several bags worth of food then sat down in the park for our largest meal yet. We talked for a while and I had to lay down because I was too stuffed to move before deciding to find some internet access. It took directions from several people before we found an internet café where we spent nearly an hour transferring photos, emailing, and looking ahead. Feeling like we had taken advantage of our time we headed back and caught our long bus to Madrid because there was no direct route to Toledo.

Leaving Andalucía for central Spain, we drove through the countryside of La Mancha that is known for its rolling plains and windmills featured in Don Quixote. Upon arrival, we had to quickly get our bearings and transfer to another station by taking the subway in order to catch a bus to Toledo. Over the next couple of days we would be traveling in several places Hans had visited before after our semester in Jerusalem. The old city of Toledo is majestically perched high on a hill above the river and the surrounding countryside, but the bus station was at the bottom, so we climbed up to the top enjoying the views as the sun began to set. A strange lady checked us into our surprisingly nice hostel and Hans got an inconspicuous photo of her by pretending to be taking pictures of the Lego characters he was fooling around with. The hostel had an awesome rooftop terrace where we indulged in the beautiful rooftop panorama.

Hoping to get a feel for the city and map our route for the morning, we wandered through the city as night fell. We really enjoyed the different vibe of the quiet city at night and there were sweet laser lights shown on the ground to inform us when we were entering the Jewish quarter and more framing the façade of a church so it looked like the illuminated Dwarven door into Moria. Before bed we ordered a super-large pizza to hold us over and to serve as our breakfast in the morning and grabbed some beers while we waited.

Day 19

In the morning we retraced our steps back to the Jewish quarter to visit one of the three old synagogues in the city, which together with the one in Cordoba are the only Sephardic synagogues remaining in Spain. It contained a large main hall with intricately carved walls and ceilings that resembled Moorish art, but was markedly unique showing the distinctive Jewish culture that existed. The synagogue also functioned as a museum giving a summary of Jewish history with many artifacts including one of the ancient mother-goddess statues that we had become familiar with at JUC. We attempted to skim through the museum before making our way back to the center of town stopping at several shops along the way looking at swords. Hans had bought a sword on his last trip here that was supposed to be a replica of El Cid’s sword, but when he showed the sword in one of the many sword shops in Toledo, I mentioned that the blade seemed too long and advanced for the 11th century.

The Cathedral of Saint Mary of Toledo is massive and is hard to get a good perspective of because it is smushed by the buildings surrounding it without any open square usually present around Cathedrals. During the middle ages, Toledo was the military and religious center of Spain giving it a very intimidating stature that complimented its physical position. The Cathedral was built to show the might of Spain and the Catholic Church and continues to intimidate to this day because of its high visiting fee. This Cathedral was also the seat of the Bishop of Toledo who is elevated in position above the other bishops in the same way the bishop of Rome is elevated as Pope. The gothic ceiling soared high above, there was a massive altarpiece, several El Greco paintings, and an intricate apse of sunlight statues adorning the walls. In the reliquary was the Great Monstrance of Arfe that took seven years to complete, contains over 200 kilograms of gold and silver, and is said to contain the first gold brought back by Columbus from the New World.

We exited the church and headed up the hill to the Alcazar to visit the massive military museum contained inside. There had been a stronghold built on the hill since Roman times, but the current building was built in the 16th century, after most of the castles in Spain built during the Reconquista, so it looks more modern. We had about three hours before we needed to board our bus so we moved fairly quickly through exhibits where we could have spent all day. The displays and information were overwhelming including: vast collections of assorted weaponry and cannons, flags, figurines, descriptions of all the wars in Spanish history after the Catholic Monarchs, models of fortifications, breakdowns of different unit tactics, and artifacts from the new world. We were both disappointed that the museum did not cover the Reconquista and there were no swords old enough to compare with the curiously rapier-like craftsmanship of El Cid’s sword, although in Madrid we did see a comparable hilt from a couple decades later.

After less than 24 hours in Toledo it was time to grab our packs and descend the hill down to the bus station and return to Madrid. Once again, we had to transfer stations in Madrid where we switched back and forth using up our couple minutes of internet before boarding our bus up to Salamanca. The countryside was not as beautiful as Andalucía although we did catch a very short glimpse at the ridiculously well-preserved and formidable walls surrounding the town of Avila. In the outskirts of Salamanca there were a few wonderful glimpses across the river to a city with several imposing buildings jutting out from the rooftops. We instantly noticed that the city was livelier because it is still one of the premier university towns in Spain.

We walked into the old city as darkness began to veil our surroundings. We strolled around for a while to get a feel for the city and marveled at how many impressive churches, universities, and town hall buildings there were all packed into a relatively small area. It took us a while to find our hostel because the address was inexact, but as we came down the street the sign for our Erasmus hostel lit up as if to greet us. Erasmus was perhaps the most important intellectual during the Renaissance because he traveled across Europe spreading the newest ideas through writing and speech. He traveled to Salamanca because it was the intellectual center of Spain for centuries during the middle ages.

After unloading our stuff, Hans and I walked to the famous Plaza Mayor which is considered the most beautiful in Spain. The square is completely surrounded by a uniform frame of buildings with underpasses at the entryways. When we emerged into the square it did not disappoint. The square was glowing as there was a light between each of the thousands of windows on the buildings framing the outside. There was a lively student band playing and rousing the audience with jubilant energy and there were hundreds of people sitting in the square and at the cafes along the outside. We soaked in the vibes of the plaza and naturally took several timed shots before locating an affordable bar just off one of the underpasses where we sat for a beer and a generous portion of jamon. This dry-cured Spanish ham is considered one of the country’s finest delicacies. It was a wonderful way to finish the evening while taking in the energy of the moment, but Hans became quite exhaustedly giddy from the alcohol since he had felt sick that day so had eaten very little.

Day 20

In the morning, we eventually located the partner establishment where every inch of wall and ceiling space covered with decorations. Here we received a free English-style breakfast of tea, toast, and jam leaving something to be desired. We made our way to the historic and still functioning university of Salamanca that was originally founded in 1134. Unfortunately, visits to the historic campus where not free but cost over 10 euros. We debated going in, Hans decided against it but offered to spot me a few euros to make me feel better about visiting and so that I could take pictures while he ran around the rooftops of the city. Although nothing stunning, I was glad I toured the university because it gave me a different historical perspective and I was walking on stones that many great Spaniards had graced before me. I paused in several preserved classrooms; one had wooden desks where students throughout the centuries had carved their names. The highlight was the old library, but I could only see it from a plastic enclosed viewing area. This library, featured in the wonderful documentary “Germs, Guns, and Steel”, was where many of the early maps and descriptions of the New World were held including Cortez’s account of the Aztec conquest. It was interesting to see how misshapen the early maps where because they had no idea what was beyond the discovered islands and coast.

After leaving the university I walked around the city center before entering the Cathedral nueva. Add this to the list of beautiful churches in Spain with another lofty ceiling and very complex vaulting shaped like an intricate flower. Not seeing Hans, I searched for the entrance to the bell tower where I a paid a fee to access a network of passageways straight out of Assassin’s Creed. You first climb up winding staircases stopping at a couple old guard rooms where they had displays of relics and information related to the church including a small crucifix that belonged to El Cid. There was a balcony that looked over the more intimate, Romanesque Cathedral vieja that was replaced by the new Cathedral built in the same complex. Continuing to climb you also emerge onto a catwalk along the wall high above the Cathedral nueva for a top-down view of the sanctuary and close-up inspection of the ceiling revealing some significant cracks and damage in the upper levels from the powerful Lisbon earthquake of 1755.

The next stop in the climb was to emerge onto the open air of the Cathedral roof. This place offered the best views of Salamanca in all its grandeur. There were several paths along the roofs allowing you to both examine the architecture and decoration on the exterior of the Cathedral along with the cityscape from many angles. Still the excursion was not finished as I entered the bell tower and began the long ascent to the top. I found Hans on his way down after lingering at the top for quite a while taking timed shots of him jumping and climbing around the belfry. The view from the top was obstructed by the walls and wiring, so I returned down to the roof for another sweep of the horizon before making my way down and exiting with Hans.

As our time of departure approached, we grabbed our bags from the hostel and walked through the Plaza Major on the way out to compare the experience with the square at night. It was beautiful but certainly more magical at night. We stopped at a market to eat lunch before boarding the bus, but when we arrived at the station I discovered that I understood the wrong time for the only bus going to Segovia that day. We missed it requiring us to take the next bus to Madrid. We were becoming more natural at rolling with the punches and focusing on the next move. This misunderstanding may have turned out for the better because, although it could have gave us more time in Segovia, we were not sure how we would get from there to Hoyo de Manzanares where Hans’ friend Karsten lived.

In addition, I had discovered from my travel book that the world-renowned Del Prado art museum has free admission for the last two hours of each day, so this allowed us a two-hour visit that night. We struggled with the complicated metro to get into the city center then walked to the museum and entered the extremely long line that continued to grow around the building. Soon after 6:00, the line streamed through the entrance fairly quickly and we were among the masses that had flocked into the building to see classic pieces of art.

Most of the exhibits were paintings and I enjoyed the vantage of history and the progression of art forms that was unveiled as we progressed from room to room. Even without stopping much to examine any paintings closer, we still only breezed past less than half of the collection. There were the many works by Velasquez including many of his depictions of buffoons or midgets. We also saw collections by Goya, El Greco, and Raphael. Many rooms were filled with illustrations of battles, processions, and palaces along with hundreds of portraits of royalty and other nobles from the age of Absolutism in Europe. My teaching of art as a component or representation of history in my classroom gave me a solid information base to work from and I both gave Hans some of the historical context for these works and helped point out the symbolism, especially the growing secularism and civil power being portrayed.

Exhausted from our early start, heavy exertion, and fast-paced visiting throughout the day, we reclaimed our packs rested for a bit on the lawn outside where Hans came along to meet me. Unsure of how much we would be able to see in Madrid, we pressed on by walking down some of the main avenues of the city and continuing into the extensive gardens of Buen Retiro Park. We paused by a peaceful memorial to the 191 victims who died in the 2004 terrorist bombings at Atocha Station. There was a stream with several foot bridges winding around a small hill with a path that swirled up and around the hill to the top overlooking more of the park. On the hill were olive and Cyprus trees, one for each of the victims. People were relaxing in the grass among the trees. I was struck at how different and appropriate this memorial was in comparison to others I had seen. For example, to commemorate the 9/11 attacks, we have built a taller “Freedom Tower” to demonstrate our triumph of democracy and have spent many millions creating an extensive memorial project and museum among the World Trade complex. I found the quiet, unassuming, simple, and natural composition to be more helpful to the process of grieving and moving forward.

We continued walking through the park and came to one of the main hangout places in the city around the monument to Alfonso XII. The monument capped by a statue was flanked by a semi-circle colonnade placed along the lake at the center of the park. Many people were boating or kayaking on the lake, young people had come to meet friends, and vendors were selling their wares. Then we walked down a statue-lined promenade to exit the park, return to the metro,

and made our way to the terminal for local buses. Without making any two-way contact with Karsten, we struggled to use a pay phone to call him and Hans got cut off just after he confirmed we were coming. We boarded the 611a night bus for Hoyo, which was about 35 minutes.

Piecing together pieces from his memory from his visit years earlier, Hans decrypted where to get off, located the small Plaza Major, and gave us a heading to find the given address. We found the apartment building but did not know how to find the correct door. Hans was whispering and then squealing “Karsten” outside one apartment where he thought he heard his friend, but was mistaken. Eventually, another resident helped us and we were greeted by Karsten’s wife Mary and their two kids Liam and Bruce. Karsten had gone to the bus stop to pick us up, but somehow we missed him. When Karsten returned, Hans and him wasted no time “catching up” by staring at each other, quoting inside jokes, strumming sumptuously unresolved chords on the guitar, and laughing. Mary made us some tasty food and I talked and joked around with Liam and Bruce. It was decided that Karsten would visit Segovia with us the next day, he found cheap train tickets, and (after a troublesome process) decided he would print the purchased tickets in the morning at the church where he worked.

Day 21

We got up early and ate breakfast in the kitchen with the kids before saying goodbye and leaving for the early bus to Madrid. Running behind schedule, Hans hastily lead us to the bus stop where he thought Karsten would meet us, but he wasn’t there. The bus came and the driver and passengers got frustrated as we tried to stall at the door waiting for Karsten. When decision time came, we boarded the bus and hoped we would meet Karsten at the station. He was not there, so we decided to wait for the next bus to arrive in 20 minutes. Sure enough, he ran into the station and down the steps to the metro beckoning us to follow him. The transfers from station to station always take longer than we thought. He told us how the printer didn’t work so he tried at two peoples houses unsuccessfully before racing to the bus stop (evidently at a different stop) and since he did not see us he waited for the next bus.

Now our train departure time was approaching so we prepared to absolutely book it from the metro stop to the station. This was one of the most physically exerting experiences in my life as we bounded up 6 soaring flights of stairs and sprinted several hundred yards. Our muscles were screaming for oxygen so badly we could hardly move by the time we got to the train and Karsten tried to explain without breath that we had been unable to print the tickets and (against their official policy…under the strenuous circumstances) they scanned the tickets from his phone and allowed us to board as the train pulled out of the station.

On the high-speed train from Madrid, it would only take about half an hour to reach Segovia station. From there we were shuttled into town and we walked to the bus station where we would be able to store our packs in a locker. Historic Segovia was still a good ways off, so we started walking glad that everything worked out in the end. Unfortunately, we only had four hours before we needed to board our train back to Madrid so we didn’t have time to wander. As the street curved to the right we caught our first glimpse of the massive aqueduct running right through the town that is Segovia’s most famous monument and the best preserved Roman aqueduct in the world. We passed under the archways of the aqueduct to the other side for a more unobstructed view of its breadth and to welcome Karsten into the world of ridiculous timed shots that got more intense with three people.

Compelled by time, we headed up the cobblestone path flanked by fascinating old churches, shops, and other buildings until we emerged into an open square with a wonderful view of the Cathedral. Segovia is a little-known treasure packed with awe-inspiring sights that many visitors to Spain miss. The Cathedral is one of the most unique and magnificent in Spain. There are several layers on the exterior each decorated by delicate spires bearing resemblance to a drip-drop sand castle. There is also a mighty bell tower that soars high above everything else, but it is not accessible to visitors.

We decided to bypass the Cathedral and make for the Alcazar that was a favorite sight of Hans and Karsten. We stopped at a mini-market to buy a picnic lunch for three that we ate in the park under the shadow of the powerful façade of the Alcazar and entertained some youths with a free-for-all bread sword fight.

The castle was one of the most impregnable structures I have ever seen. It was surrounded on three sides by sheer cliffs. On the approach side there was a deep chasm separating the entrance from the city spanned by a 25 ft. drawbridge before running up into the nearly hundred ft. high battlements of the castle keep. Underneath the castle was a cistern for water to be stored. There were several soaring towers that gave the castle a commanding 360 degree view and position of defense. I don’t know if anyone even tried to assault that.

Inside the castle was a courtyard surrounded by beautifully decorated medieval rooms. This used to be one of the royal residences so there was a throne room, receiving hall, dining room, banquet area, chapel, and bedroom. There was artwork painted directly on the wall of all the rooms including a record of all the kings in the banquet area. Then were emerged onto the battlements on the backside of the castle where the cliffs were highest and we could look down on the birds flying below. There was an armory showcasing all sorts of weapons and a museum on the opposite side of the courtyard.  Finally, we climbed up to the top of the keep for the best available views over Segovia. We allowed ourselves to linger here for some time before exiting and crossing back through town to the Cathedral.

The inside of the Cathedral was majestic, but these awe-inspiring Gothic Cathedrals were becoming a common sight during our time in Spain so we did not feel rushed by time. I think Spain may be the victor in a competition for the most impressive array of churches in a single country. On our way out we forged a new path to bring us out along the top of where the aqueduct begins its span across the lower part of town. Hans and I stood on the wall overlooking the edge basking in the allure of yet another commanding position while Karsten nervously stood below. When it was time to leave, when retrieved our packs, caught a shuttle back to the train station where Karsten tried to scan the tickets from the phone, but the lady made us print them out using one of the ticket printing machines before gliding back to Madrid where we parted with Karsten.

It was about 5:30, which gave us enough time to head back down to the Del Prado for another free two-hour visit. Hans had decided to visit the neighboring naval museum so we agreed to meet up afterwards. He had been interested in the exhibits on the Spanish Armada and the Philippines where he had backpacked for a couple weeks, but was thwarted when the guards charged him an entrance fee, made him wear his pack, and closed the museum an hour earlier than was listed. Meanwhile, I joined in the queue and soon set about my task of visiting the remainder of the exhibits.

There were more big name paintings to see, including, one of my favorites, Hieronymus Bosch’s “Garden of Earthly Delights.” I had taught this painting in class to demonstrate the uneasy feelings about the Church and the condition of the soul during the time of corruption and crisis in the Catholic Church in the years leading up to the Reformation. There is also the “Third of May” by Francisco Goya depicting Spanish captives being executed by occupying French troops under Napoleon. I also used this in class in contrast to the famous portrait of a young Napoleon urging his troops forward from a rearing horse to point out the many faces of the French Revolution and its effect on Europe. The contrast of the cold discipline of the French troops vs. the desperate emotion of the captives is made more poignant by the light cast on the Spanish figures by a lantern at the center of the scene. All in all, I really enjoyed the richness of this museum and seeing in person many images that I had used in my teaching Power Points.

Hans had not appeared before the guards ushered us out of the building, so I waited for him to appear in the lawn. We both needed a good night’s sleep so we headed straight for our hostel. This was the biggest hostel that we stayed in the whole trip and lots of people were hanging around downstairs. Lacking energy, we walked around to find something to eat and drink on a bench before returning to navigate the maze of rooms upstairs to our 18-bed mixed dorm room, took a shower, and went to bed early.

Day 22

In the morning we made for the Puerta del Sol to possibly meet up with Daniel, a Spanish acquaintance that I had made while traveling in Bulgaria and had shown interest in traveling with us for a bit, but it had fallen apart due to complications. Since he did not show up, we started our walking tour by viewing the statue of the bear reaching into the Madrano tree that was the symbol of the city. We continued down the main boulevard stopping to eat churros con chocolate at the most famous churros venue in the city before arriving at the Plaza Mayor which was bigger than the one in Salamanca, but not nearly as enthralling. We navigated the streets to experience a couple other historic plazas before bumping into the royal Palace complex. I got in free with my international teacher card, so along with a couple reduced rates making the card a fiscally worthwhile investment.

I had been surprised how at almost all of the sites we had visited throughout the trip, we had been able to take pictures freely, but we were not allowed inside of the chapel. Most of my pictures from here were the compliments of Google images. There was a massive all-white open square in front of the palace entrance skirted on two sides by the armory and pharmacy with a gate closing in the square. The main section of the palace was entered via a grand staircase with statues demonstrating the power of Spain. We visited several rooms that were each a different color scheme and were surprisingly ornate. Next we spent over an hour in the armory that had beautiful suits of royal army from throughout the centuries along with several huge long-barreled guns that seemed to be less useful in battle than interesting to look at. Hans had decided to meet up with Karsten and his family in Hoyo for the afternoon before returning in the evening to meet up and catch our sleeper train to Barcelona. So we parted ways and I forged ahead determined to see all the sites of interest.

I walked down to the Plaza de Espana with a large fountain, throngs of shops, and several interesting buildings in the background. Next, I located an ancient Egyptian temple that had been transplanted from Aswan to save it from destruction due to construction of the high dam. It was small, but a curious find in the middle of a Western European city and a reminder of my time in Egypt. After city in shade to rest and eat lunch I walked through a park, down a hill to a rose garden, and across the railroad tracks to a small chapel that housed the tomb of Goya and one of his most astounding works painted on the ceiling. This scene depicting the preaching of Saint Anthony of Padua is hailed for its mastering of perception as the images look accurate and alive despite being painted on different angles and shapes of the arches, vaulting, and dome of the chapel ceiling. Outside of the city center, the chapel was almost empty and it was a peaceful place to rest my back as I looked up at the ceiling.

Hopping on the metro, I popped out at the bull fighting arena, the most prestigious in Spain, built in the neo-Mudejar style. I was hoping to get a tour of the inside, but it was closed for the day because there was going to be a motocross extravaganza in the arena over the weekend. I headed back to the hostel to pick up my pack, grabbed something to eat, and went to the Reina Sofia Museum of contemporary art for the free visit. There was a long line that moved slower but I was not as interested in this art. There was a lot of weird, sexual, and nonsensical art that made me feel irritable. I felt like the art was being praised for being edgy, non-conforming, and demonstrating internal confusion. Very little was pleasing to look at and had little historical importance, but I am glad that I saw world renowned examples of this genre of art. Certainly the most famous piece was Picasso’s massive “Guernica” that was adapted as an anti-war protest following the atrocious bombing of the city of Guernica in northern Spain by the Nazis during the Spanish Civil War.

Unlike the Del Prado, I had no problem fitting everything I wanted to see within the two free hours and I exited early to wait for Hans who I expected to meet inside the museum. I waited long past our agreed meeting time range and began to get nervous that something went wrong. I walked around the museum looking for another entrance where he could be waiting but did not see him. Just like in Greece, when I decided that it was of no use and that I had to go to make our train, he showed up evidently stressed. We took off running and he explained that he had terrible luck with the buses and metro being hopelessly delayed and that we might now have problems making our train on time because they had closed the metro line that we needed to get to the station. We would now have to go out of the way and transfer three times. As the departure time of our train approached, it was frustrating knowing there was nothing we could do but wait. We could not believe we were late again to the same freakin’ train station. Again we laid it all on the line sprinting up the steps and to the station, but are bodies were more worn down before and it was to no avail. We missed the train.

Missing our connections was really starting to get old but Hans was livid because he placed most of the responsibility on himself. We decided that the only thing to do was to take an overnight bus that would get us to Barcelona by morning. Since we lost our money from the train tickets, Hans insisted on paying for my bus ticket and our metro trips. We transferred to the bus station and waited there for our bus that was departing at 1am. Beyond exhausted, we both slept for the entire trip and woke up in Barcelona.

Day 23

Dropped off in far from our hostel and exhausted, we had to decipher another metro system and city map to get to our hostel. Unfortunately, we were way too early to check in so we dropped off our packs and sat in the small park outside for a long time as I tried to read the tour book and strategize our visit. In Barcelona, nearly all the museums are free on Sunday, which was tomorrow so we would wait to see many of the sights and use the day to walk around. We headed down to the Naval Museum and looked at its model of the city and exhibit on the important city port that was expanding to be one of the largest in Europe and the Mediterranean. Then we strolled down coast and noticed that the city was very clean, well-spaced, and had a unique combination of vibes as a modern, historic, young, and beach city.

There was a promenade along the coast lined with docks for small recreational boats. Ahead there was a grandstand and a lot of commotion and markings along the water. We found out that Barcelona was currently hosting the 2013 Aquatic World Championships and there was outdoor long-distance swimming event going on. There was a group from the US and many of the European countries that was cheering on their country. As we walked around the grandstand for a view from the other side, they announced nearly 70 candidates from a huge variety of countries including the Middle East and Africa. These atypical contestants were not able to keep up with the rest of the field in this early heat but they represented their countries on the world stage.

We walked into the historic center of Barcelona and wandered around for a while. There was a statue of Count Berenguer III who was a local hero, but my Age of Empires campaign memory told me that he was an adversary of El Cid who was the main hero of central Spain. This highlighted the division between Catalonia (east) and the rest of Spain. The history and culture of this region has long been distinct from much of Spain and even has a different dialect or form of Spanish than the rest of Spain. What Americans know as Spanish is actually Castilian Spanish, which was the language of the Catholic Monarchs that united most of Spain and therefore was the language spread in the New World. However, in northern Spain there is Basque and Galician and here Catalan was spoke. In most of the museum’s there were Castilian and Catalan descriptions side by side; they were similar but may have been distinct enough that it would be hard to understand the other. In fact, much like with Quebec in Canada, there is a significant movement in Catalonia advocating political separation from the rest of Spain.

Wherever you are in Spain, you feel a profound sense of culture. Because there was little idea of a united Spain until the 16th century, each region of Spain has a unique culture with different architecture, cuisine, practices, and language. The differences in style and design were richer and more evident from place to place than the US or most countries. Their history of struggle with the Moors and the fusion of cultures seems to have created a sense of pride and emphasis on culture lived out in society. While many places I have visited seem to cater to or get washed down by tourism by blending in with a Western cultural mush, Spain had more integrity to stick to its distinctiveness. Barcelona was a strong example of this because it felt very different from the rest of Spain in many ways.

Eventually, we entered the Cathedral that was a peak example of high Gothic architecture as the tall, narrow pillars, windows, spires, and pointed archways gave an already high ceiling the impression that it was reaching toward the heavens. This was a complete accomplishment of the goal of drawing churchgoer’s eyes out of the world around them toward the holiness of God in heaven.  There was an elevator that took us to the roof where we got an incredible 360 degree view of the city that was a hodgepodge of old and new co-existing beautifully. And far in the distance rose the spires and construction cranes of La Sagrada Familia, the famous church designed by local great Anton Gaudi and that was incredible despite being far from completion.

That view was enough to make us want to visit La Sagrada, so we made our way back to our hostel, stopped to watch two guys creating massive floating bubbles with ropes, checked into our room, did some wash, reserved our tickets online, and headed off. From underground at the metro station, you emerge right under the shadow of the massive church. There were really long lines but we got to skip it because of our reservation, but since I had been unable to print them we had to use our confirmation number at the entrance. The tickets were a steep 13 euros each but much of the profits was used to fund the continuation of construction. As soon as we entered the inside of the church, we were instantly struck with wonder and glad we corked out the money to visit.

The interior glowed with iridescent colored light from the stained glass windows all covering the walls. The ceiling soared far higher than any other church I had seen as the whole central nave reached to 150 ft. The whole interior seemed alive with an outlandish natural energy reminding me of Avatar. There was an exhibit that revealed how Gaudi’s designs were usually based on the dimensions and beauty of nature exemplified by the tree and branches appearance of the columns. There were a couple layers of seating and walkways along the wall and huge spiral staircases used to reach the upper levels that reminded me a little of a tree house. The crescent of pillars forming the apse was incredible and there was a canopy of organic-looking lights that was suspended above the altar. The main doors at the rear were bronze-cast and covered with words from the languages of the world coming together to form the words of the Lord’s Prayer. At each entrance there is an extensive mural of statues carved in an abstract, almost stoic fashion depicting the Nativity and the Passion of Christ. The completed spires fly way overhead, but the central spire that has not been started is planned to rise 560 ft. Once again, you will just have to look at the pictures to get even a hint of the full grandeur.

Before leaving we went down to the lower level where there was a mass happening in this more intimate chapel where Gaudi was buried off to the side. Next, we took the subway the Park Guell, which was planned to be a massive luxury housing area on a hill overlooking Barcelona completely designed by Gaudi with curving paths, mosaic benches and statues, and diverse gardens. To help visitors climb to the hill, there was a sequence of about 6-8 massive escalators straight up a side-street leading to a park entrance. Hans bought some exotic juices that he had also had in India including guava, passion fruit, and guanabana. He would buy about a liter of juice every day because he thinks it’s a great way to hydrate while getting essential vitamins and minerals. We probably looked so ridiculous to people passing by us sitting along the street eating with our hands from a massive spread of whole foods while drinking out of a massive juice box like cavemen (not that they had juice boxes).

We walked up the walking path with gardens on either side until we reached a lookout point with a large cross over the city. All of Barcelona was laid out before us, so it was a great way to understand the dimensions and points of interest in the city. We could see right down the avenues of center city with the new sector to the left and another hill on the right that blocked the view of the port. Down the hill a ways was a residential building with the whole roof and side covered in graffiti of anarchy and marijuana…a hub for young non-conformists to stick it to the man. We lingered to enjoy the great view as the sun set and we talked with some of the people there before returning to our hostel for the night. Unfortunately, we missed several statues and structures built by Gaudi well down the hill in the lower part of the park. Before bed I was working on the computer and met two college girls, referred to as Mexico and Argentina, who were completing an assignment. When Hans and I went to bed there was someone who had moved all our stuff to other beds, Hans reclaimed his bed while a grabbed an open one. However, Hans got woken up and had an argument about which bed was his before realizing that we were supposed to be assigned beds within the room, but we were never told.

Day 24

The hostel had a simple all you can eat breakfast with cereal, toast, muffins, and juices. We ate with the two girls who we were talking to about our plans until another kid, referred to as Canada, showed up. Despite being from Indiana, he pretended to be from Canada and made a lot of dumb know-it-all jokes to annoy us surprisingly quickly. When touring as a group came up in conversation we made it clear that we were doing different stuff than they would be planning to not be stuck with that annoying jabber. We rode the subway, took a funicular, and then boarded a cable car for a long ride up to the top of the hill that divided the port from the city.

At the end of the line was Montjuic Castle, a free hangout spot for city-dwellers featuring huge cannons, extensive battlements, and sweeping coastal views. I wasted no time mounting canon to gaze over the port below before planking and balancing for several photos. The land side of the fortress has a sequence of walls and firing positions that provided interlocking layers of defense always keeping the enemy in an area open to fire from within. In the yard there was an archery competition as dozens of guys fired volleys of arrows down the range as we watched from the wall above. We planned for me to walk down the hill to the art museum of Catalonia while Hans fooled around longer in the castle to meet me in a couple hours. On the way down I lost a good amount of time because the most direct route on the map worked perfect until I was blocked from crossing the street to the museum by a huge locked gate and the fence around the gardens forced me to backtrack way back and around. First of all, why is the gate accessing the museum and city beyond closed? Secondly, if you are going to only have one entrance open to a massive garden, shouldn’t there be a sign posted informing people that was the only exit?

Eventually, I arrived at the museum to find out it was closing in about an hour (earlier than listed) meaning I would need to seriously rush through to see what I was interested. This museum was awesome for a history-minded fellow because all of the exhibits were categorized by period of history and then laid out chronologically. The evolution of art through the dark ages to the 20th century played out gradually in front of my eyes. Most of the items came from the region, especially the frescoes and woodcuts from the dark ages. These images were flat with no sense of depth or perspective and almost all of them were religious focusing on the crucifixion and depictions of the saints. During the late middle ages of the 13th and 14th centuries, the figures became more precise with richer color and better spacing. The Renaissance brings the first understanding of depth and perspective, the prevalence of classical and secular themes, and a sense of life and emotion in the figures. These components improve and become more complex into the Baroque period of the 17th century that used exaggerated motion and expression to produce more drama and grandeur. The scenes become more focused on key figures and used great attention to detail to bring out meaning. After this progression is complete, art spans out into many movements each with their own focus or style giving a wide-array of contemporary art.

With enough time to complete the progression without being able to analyze any individual works more closely, I was pushed out by the guards and met Hans after several minutes outside. From the front of the museum there was a great view down one of the main boulevards with opens squares, fountains, and a grand staircase down the remainder of the hill. We walked to the Naval Museum for our free visit where we inconspicuously avoided Canada, Argentina, and Mexico who happened to be exiting the museum at that time. The main attraction inside was a full-scale model of the Venetian flagship of Don Juan of Austria who commanded the Holy League in their decisive victory over the Ottoman Navy at the Battle of Lepanto in 1571. I was intrigued by a section on the Catalan Atlas because I used this as a primary source in my class to demonstrate the development of African civilizations. After teaching this to Hans and analyzing the map, we noticed they had flipped one panel of the map upside down, so we informed the steward. We had earlier noticed an error in one of the descriptions, so we felt like accomplished historians to be noticing errors in a museum.

After leaving the museum, we wandered around the historic center some more walking up and down La Rambla, the famous pedestrian street. We again saw our friends on the street along with a Hindu parade celebrating Krishna with colorful banners and random percussion. Next we grabbed lunch from a market then visited a church that is regarded as one of the most uniform from the middle ages because it was completed in just 60 years. This means the specific stage of Gothic is consistent throughout the space giving it a simplistic beauty. Since it was Sunday we lingered in the sanctuary before heading to our last museum before closing time.

We had planned on going to the Picasso museum, but the line was huge, so we looked for the city history museum. We watched a quick film that outlined the stages of development from Roman times up to modern day before descending to the lower levels to walk on pathways above the ruins of the Roman city. After emerging from the ruins we were soon swooshed out of the museum and stumbled upon a jazz band jamming on the street with quite a crowd. We were exhausted from standing all day so we headed back to our hostel for a quick rest before venturing out to the beach.

We took the subway part way before having to walk the rest of the way. Fortunately, there we got to see another side of the city with a really nice park where people were biking, dancing in a pavilion, and playing Ping-Pong along with a huge fountain with a golden chariot statue on top. Unfortunately, the park authorities of Barcelona love locking the entrances to parks, so again we had to go out of our way to exit the park before continuing on our way. By the time we got to the beach, night had fallen and the area came alive with lights and people who came to drink in the bars and cafes. We sat near an inappropriate drunk guy who soon fell asleep and two girls who were sitting nearby came over to talk. They were both from the Czech Republic, one was in Barcelona living with several other girls in a flat trying to get a job in translation while the other was visiting her. We fired questions at them about Czech culture and politics while showing how few of their fellow countrymen were known in America outside of some hockey players. The water was beautiful with the low moon shimmering across the ripples and Hans and I had a moment before we left where we waded in the ocean because it would be the last time in the foreseeable future that we would be in the Mediterranean. Hans was very sentimental about leaving and again couldn’t believe it. Since the subway had closed, we walked with the girls all the way back to their apartment before continuing back to the hostel, but of course we could not get back without almost getting stuck in another huge park with the exit closed. Luckily, I found that the bars at one point in the fence were wide enough to squeeze through, so we emerged victorious from our bondage.

We had to get up early in the morning, so I only slept two hours. There was a crazy full shuttle bus that we had to force our way in the line to get onto before arriving in the airport and waiting for our flight to Paris. Our time in Spain had been crazy as we squeezed so much into our 12 days, but we were so glad for all the sights we visited and the memories that were created. It was time to meet up with Pat for a new adventure in two of the greatest cities in the world.

Ancient Times in Greece

Day 1

We arrived in Tirana and had a few hours before we needed to catch our bus to Greece. I decided to give Hans a quick tour of center city that would give him a glimpse into the history, culture, and politics of Albania. This walk around served as a wrap-up and farewell experience for me because I knew it would be the last time I was grounded in Albania for a long time. We walked to Skennerbeg square to soak in communist heritage and central position of Skennerbeg in the Albanian identity. I sat down to re-pack my thrown together pack, continued down the newly built promenade, and then swung around to the pyramid before having to rush back to the bus stop for departure.

This is the vehicle that would take me out of Albania and into a new world. We filled the time with napping and conversation. We reminisced about the "time of our lives" from our 3 months of studying abroad in Jerusalem with a dynamic group of college students sharing a common passion for immersion in the Holy Land. We stopped for a short break in Fier before the sunset in Albania and some guy got on the bus and immediately started shouting about how he wanted cheese. After another couple hours we began the long process of crossing the border in Greece. The journey was slow and any formalized process tends to take longer for Albanians, some of whom have never encountered the confusing structures of the outside world, so the border crossing was painstaking.

After crossing, we drove about an hour before being dropped off several kilometers outside of Ioaninna, our first destination. Since it was after 2am we were tired and figured that nothing would be open in the city, so we decided to follow through on our plan of being homeless for a night. There was a small airport nearby that was closed, but had some metal benches in the covered entrance area that would provide separation from the ground to keep us from freezing on a surprisingly cold night. Before we could put our stuff down, a police car pulls up and two guys get out. One went inside to perform the nightly check-in, while the other waited outside. Since we did not want to give the appearance that would likely sleep there and wanted to see if we could get a ride, we waited and talked to the police man telling our situation and that we were not sure we what we were going to do. Nothing came out of it and the guy stayed there for about a half-hour keeping us from rest, but we tried to engage in conversation to avoid the awkward circumstances despite our willingness to do so being apparently quite low. After they left, we got out more layers of clothes and positioned ourselves in such a way that we were not seen by the guard through the doors. It really felt like we were outcast homeless men who were wary of the authorities and just wanted to find a place to spend the night.

Day 2

This was one of the worst night of sleep ever. Anticipating summer travel around the Mediterranean I had not packed clothing with the purpose of keeping me warm. I wore my two pairs of shorts under my pants, a couple t-shirts, a flannel long-sleeve that I had included just-in-case and my rain jacket. I was still cold and laying on the metal benches, although better than the ground, certainly did not help. Furthermore, the benches were those with individual seats on them so there was not a flat or long enough surface to lay on. Despite being very tired, I ended up waking up over ten times in the short night because my body was sore and angry with these conditions. When the sun came up, we could not sleep much longer and figured we should walk our way into town to make sure we caught the bus out for that day.

It was a new morning and we were in Greece, that gave excitement to our steps and a sense of richness to just about everything. After reaching town we stocked up on water and found a fruit stand with a friendly shopkeeper who had lived in Chicago. The peaches, cherries, and nectarines that we got in season were definately the best we had ever had, unbelievably juicy and sweet. We continued on and stopped in a beautiful Orthodox church to give a sense of religious grounding, which I found out was modeled after St. Katherine's monestary in Egypt that I had seen from a distance. Then we made our way through the winding streets and eventually found the bus station after asking several people for directions.

This bus station would haunt us for longer than we knew. The plan was to leave to Kalambaka that day so I asked at the ticket booth and they said there was an evening bus. My guide book had suggested there was a bus at 8am and it was 7:45 so I asked, "So is there no bus at 8?" The man in the booth responded, "Morning bus leave." Thinking that my slightly outdated book was an old schedule, as it would prove to be other places, I bought tickets for the evening bus.

We had several hours to explore the city, so we gathered ourselves and read about the sites in the book. We noticed that there were a ridiculous amount of young Greek women who seemed to be traveling everywhere and anywhere alone or in small groups, while there were no few guys in site and those that were did not seem very masculine. While it made for a better aesthetics, we were disappointed in the sense of assertiveness and adventure that it suggested of Greek men and wondered where all these girls were going. I mean that place was constantly packed with primarily attractive girls between 16-25...a phenomenon that would hold up each time we came back.

Hans and I are both interested in history, warfare, climbing around, and great views so when we read that there was an old citadel, we made for it like the Gap of Rohan. The city is built along a high elevation lake that is surrounded by mountains on all sides. It seemed there would be great views, but it was hard to take in from in the city. We walked a few kilometers along the main drag before reaching the winding stone streets of the old city. Finding our way meant always going toward higher ground until we located the path and walked through the gate into the citadel.

There was a couple old mosques, some ruins, a cafe, and a few museams but most of the buildings were closed. We walked to the far edge of the promontory and were rewarded with not only a panarama view of the lake and the mountains above, but also a juicy treasure. Hans spotted a turtle below on the ground between the wall and the cliff edge. After some Luftwaffe pebble bombing, he climed down to investigate and stumbled upon a large bush full of ripe plumbs. Since this was public land and difficult to get to we had no problem harvesting what we could. We ended up with two paper lunchbags full and would be sustaining ourselves on those treats as a for the next couple days.

We ate what we had at the overlook and after exploring we made our way down. We saw that there were boat rides out to the island, and after checking the time, we boarded the next ferry out to the island. It turned into a beautiful day and the island had a lot to offer. There were touristy shops along the winding streets built on the hillside and we dodged shopkeepers on our way to the museum. This intimate museum was situated on the site of an old monastery and was dedicated to Ali Pasha Tepelena who was killed there. He was a powerful warlord who ruled over southern Albania, most of Greece, and western Macedonia in the 17th-18th centuries. The Ottoman sultan, whose power was questioned by Ali Pasha regional control, offered a truce to allow the warlord to retire on the island but then sent an assassin to murder him. The fat Ali Pasha was smoking a massive hookah in his personal quarters when he was shot through the floor. The holes and original musket rounds along with a collection of his personal clothes and weapons remain on display today. Since he was from Albania, he is treated as a folk hero in the South, so it was neat to make that connection outside of the borders of my second home.

Upon leaving the museum, we saw some caves where the inhabitants hid from Nazi bombing during WWII and the stopped at a beautiful shaded restaurant to try local eel. It was oily but tasty (Hans devoured all of the skin) and with the supplement of free bread, olive oil, and our plums, it served as a decent meal. Next, we visited an old church that contained the most gorily illustrated interior I had ever seen as it was dedicated to martyrs of the faith with icons of decapitation, boiling, drowning, burning, dismemberment, piercing, and BBQ griddle. It was time to head back to the bus station, so we boarded the return ferry and walked along the water stopping for natural relief and for Hans to sniff all the flowers while forging our own path until we approached the bus station. With plenty of time to spare we decided to indulge in our highly anticipated first Greek gyro or souvlaki. This turned out to be the most flavorful gyro of the entire trip as the balance of ingredients and the sauce was quite the sensory experience that we did not downplay.

It was time to head out, so we entered the bus station. I did not see the bus so I asked at the ticket window and the man informed me that the bus had left. Hans and I looked at each other in confusion and pointed to the ticket time, but the man showed us his watch that revealed it was one hour later than the time we had been living in. This was bad because we would have to pay for our fairly pricey hostel in Kalambaka, not have enough time to see the amazing site that I had originally planned a whole day for, and find another place to stay when we had seen nothing reasonable. The frustration and corporate exhaustion flowed in at once on Hans and I. Ultimately, we should have checked to see a time change, but it was in the middle of the night after a couple exhausting and mentally demanding days that we crossed the border and were thrown into a situation where we needed to find a way to spend the night out in the cold. The thought had never crossed our minds then, and there were not really any clocks that we had remembered seeing because we working off Hans' wrist watch.

We muttered some curses and tried to figure out what to do next. I called the hostel for that night, using the cell phone of one of those many girls, for it only to be confirmed that since it was less than 24 hours ahead, we would be charged. We asked if there was any reasonable places to stay, but there was nothing in that city. There were possibly places to stay in a neighboring town, but that would require locating, paying for, and making sense of a local bus. If we did not leave until morning we would almost no time to explore the fascinating cliffs of Meteora. Frustrated, exhausted, and out of luck the two of us contemplated hitch-hiking there. We had no local map or knowledge of the road and it was our first day in Greece, but we thought of the big difference in cost and time it would make and more importantly, how legendary would it be if we pulled it off. We wrestled with the options and tried to gather more information for 30 minutes with little effect until we looked at each other and acknowledged our mutual "screw-it" attitude. We walked with an adrenaline high, out of the bus station to find the main road through town to start our hitch-hiking.

The sun was beginning to set and we had no idea where we were going. Our bodies were thrust forward on raw frustration and anticipation of what "could be". But after walking several kilometers that began to wear off and we thought more hard about the possible consequences. We could be stranded in the middle of no where in the dark. I decided that it was dumb and that we should try to get to that other town for some serious sleep and start fresh tomorrow with what we have. We did just that. Although it was difficult to find the bus, we eventually made it to the town and found a cheap place to stay after asking and gesturing with many Greeks. To drown his frustration Hans set out to locate some sweets. He came back with ice cream, chocolate bars, and a liter of banana juice and proceeded to consume them all. This would give birth to our trip-long expression of "drowning our sorrows by shoving our faces." He also insisted on getting juice everyday believing that it was the most effective way to rehydrate and replenish nutrients. Amidst the frustration I did not realize how tired I was, I slept through till my alarm went off which was 12 and 1/2 hours of sleep.

Day 3

With our time adjusted, we took the local bus back and boarded the morning bus to Trikala. Well rested, we enjoyed our plums and the beautiful mountainous scenery along the road. We were driving through the tromping grounds of Alexander the Great. With all the winding slopes, we were thankful that we did not attempt to hitchhike at night because any walking or stopping along these roads would have been dangerous and confusing. Upon arriving in Trikala, we boarded a bus for the short trip to Kalambaka, the town below the slopes of Meteora. We discussed our options for getting to Delphi and decided we had no choice but to sprint through Meteora in 3 hours before boarding a bus to Trikala on time for the only bus to Delphi that day. We left our packs in the station (a lifesaver) and hailed a taxi to take us through the top. Exploring Meteora in 3 hours seemed like foolery, but Hans and I had done crazier things and we were not about to let any time go to waste.

The roads twisting up the western side of the slopes with rock columns and monasteries rising directly above us gave some great perspective on what we were getting into. The area was smaller than I had anticipated, so I charted a course and felt like we could see it all in our short time. The drop-off point was conveniently at the entrance to the most famous monastery perched on the western most precipice of the region. We climbed up hundreds of winding stairs perched on the cliff edge and then entered the monastery through a tunnel carved into the rock. The monastery complex was several different buildings built into the rock connected by carved tunnels and rooms with a great open courtyard area with views over the entire region. There was a beautiful gilded sanctuary with incense burning, some historic displays, and a couple monks walking around.Because of time, this was the only monastery that we would enter, but we were content because it was the most complete and elaborate of those in Meteora.

After descending the stairs, I located a footpath that cut through the woods in one of the canyons between the rock columns. While we love our overlooks, it was great to see the area from a different perspective in the trees looking up at the towering pillars of stone. After running through the woods like marauders, we climbed back up to another monastery balancing on top of a rock column on the edge of a huge drop-off. I spotted a possible viewpoint across a chasm, so we checked it out. There was a narrow way connecting several of the columns that jutted out above its surroundings that we carefully navigated. There was a makeshift bridge made by two logs that crossed the gap between two of the rocks and some climbing near the edge before we emerged victorious on the top of the last pillar for the best viewpoint of the day. We took some photos then sat for a while to take in the scenery while eating the last of our plums and spitting the seeds over the edge for a skydive. Looking around at the other highpoints and rock formations, Hans and I noted that God may have known what he was doing keeping our time very limited in this beautiful place. With more time to explore, we may have got into a dangerous place with our two adventurous spirits urging each other onward. Thinking back to our night descent in the Jordan desert, it would not be the first time we got ourselves into a perilous predicament so we were just glad to be alive and have a few hours to take in this unique location.

We made our way back and then took off running down the road to the East hoping to get a few more perspectives before descending back to Kalambaka for our departure. We were both not in running shape but pushed through wanting to see as much as we could. It was a nearly perfect day and the higher altitude kept it fairly cool providing relief to our heart-pounding bodies. Using the overlooks to scout our next moves, we made it to a couple other outlooks and found another winding path down toward town. With some time to spare, we slowed down and enjoyed our surroundings as we cut through the underbrush trying to stay on the overgrown path. Hans whipped out his sling and unleashed his fury with well-trained accuracy on bushes and rocks, but we both agreed that my baseball arm was a bit more deadly...He was good, but certainly no David. While it seemed we were close to town, the path kept winding and winding and we realized we would be at a very different place than where the bus station was. We started running again and made our way into town looking trying to find the way to the bus station. My travel map did not seem to be correct so I began to ask people, but a couple did not know where it was (huh? your local bus station) while others gave conflicting directions. The scheduled departure was now approaching and we did not know where to go, we followed the directions of a few shop keepers and ended up at the international station.

We were so mad that it was happening again. We had taken advantage of the time we had by doing the best we could in a new environment and things didn't fall together. It had never been much of a problem finding the local bus station in a town before, but my map was not useful and the people seemed to be very ignorant of their own surroundings leading to us standing along the road knowing that the bus had left, and it seemed our day in Delphi would be lost and we would be paying for another hostel reservation we could not reach.

When we found the bus station and got our stuff, I asked what time the bus left from Trikala and it seemed that we may be able to get to the bus station before the long-distance bus departed for Amfissa. We ran up the street and the next taxi driver in line calmly said it would be no problem to get us to the station before the long distance, but it was not cheap because the distance. Still frustrated that we had not made our bus and that we spent extra money on the taxi, we were relieved to easily make the bus we REALLY needed to catch.

To give some added perspective for why the difficulties of the past couple days were so frustrating, it was the part of the trip that I had spent by far the most time on planning. There was no precedent for traveling between these areas quickly and the information online was not only very limited, but also conflicting. Most people who traveled these areas did it as part of a packaged tour departing and returning from Athens, which I did not want to do because of time and money. And of course, the day we were going to Delphi was Sunday, the only day without multiple buses making the trip. In the end, I just went with what I thought worked best and hoped things would come together. But we were mostly unlucky and missing the bus on the first day had really crunched our time.

The long bus ride gave Hans and I more time to talk in addition to our napping and journaling. While I had frustrated at the sheer volume of things going wrong, Hans particularly struggled with wondering why God had allowed these unlucky things to happen. We talked about how things could have turned out for the better, to forget about the extra money spent because it was just money, and how to be more careful or patient. He talked about his travelling experiences in the Phillipines, India, and especially about going through central America with his sister and encountering some evil presences in the towns among the Aztec ruins.

During our hour and a half stop-over in Amfissa, we walked through an outdoor market and bought some chocolate covered fried donut balls. We were searching for food and for the famous local olives, but again Sunday cut down our options. We eventually found some gyros before returning to the bus station for our evening bus to Delphi. As the sun was setting, we whizzed by countless miles of olive groves that covered every part of the countryside before climbing up the winding road to the top of the gently-sloped mountain where the Ancient Greeks had tucked their most sacred sight.

You could tell Delphi was a tourist town because of the many nice shops, restaurants, and hotels, but they gave color and a nice energy to the tight streets. We checked into our hostel and decided to go out to get a drink and some internet. There was a bar that had free Wifi if you bought a drink, a great deal, so we used the computers then ordered a beer and some fresh-squeezed orange juice. We relaxed together I decided to purposely release my frustration from the past couple of days by chalking it up as an area that was plainly not travel friendly. When I brought up our glasses after finishing the bartender, looking surprised, asked "What are you doing?"
"Helping you out," I responded.
"Why would you do that?"
I was a bit taken aback. "Why not. It's not difficult for me to bring them over on the way out and wish you a good night."
She smiled. "People don't usually do that." After pausing, she offered us a free shot of Ouzo for which I was excited because we had not yet encountered this characteristic Greek liquor.
We started a conversation and she was very intrigued to hear about what I had done in Albania. She had come from Romania to work there and she wanted to open a new club. She was very friendly and our encounter was a nice way to end an exhausting day.

Day 4

The next morning we got up early, bought our bus ticket to Athens, then went to check out the site. We walked down the street past the museum and entered the site a few minutes after it opened. This visit would be particularly memorable because we were the only people there for over an hour as the sun slowly unveiled itself from behind the mountain slope above. We walked through the ancient agora, then up the Sacred Way that used to be flanked by statues and treasuries donated to Apollo by the city-states. There was a stone pillar marking the omphalos, or center of the earth apparently calculated by Zeus when he released two eagles at either end of the earth and they met in the middle at this point. We continued up past the temple of Apollo, the theater, and the stadium where we crossed the red tape and found the ancient starting blocks to take part in our own Pythian Games (since we were not going to Olympia) before being whistled at by one of the guards.

We began to make our way back down the winding path with amazing views from above the sight and ran into a group of American high-school students. A group of the girls were talking about how tired they were and that they may wait at the bottom while the others went up to the top. Hans and I were baffled and held in the urge to lash out them for being spoiled, unwilling to suck it up for a bit, and for not knowing what they were missing. We simply approached them and said bluntly that they needed to go to the top because that was where the best views and ruins were.

We exited the upper site and ran down the road past the site of the spring where pilgrims used to wash themselves and down to the entrance to the lower site, where the most recognizable structure in Delphi was located. The tholos is a raised circular platform with a cylindrical enclosure surrounded by pillars and we do not know what any of these buildings were used for. However, this is the best preserved example and it was likely near where the famous oracles would deliver their catatonic messages to answer questions of the envoys coming to seek the will of Apollo. Their trance-like state was likely derived from intoxicating fumes that emerged from an opening in the earth over which she sat in a tripod chair. Their babbling would be interpreted by a priest into verse. Since the answers were usually vague, it is likely how the message was received by the audience that would determine their action.

With a little over an hour remaining before our bus departed, we ran back up the road and into the museum. This was the first time either of us had encountered the rule that you could take pictures of the displays, but could not have people in the picture. The museum was not very extensive but had a few important displays including the original carved rock marking the center of the earth and a full-size bronze charioteer. Satisfied with our visit, we grabbed our bags and boarded the bus to Athens.

The Athens bus station was outside of the city-center so we had to take the metro, but first we stopped to inhale three different gyros. With the name and address of our popular hostel, I figured it would be easy to find, but I asked several people and they did not know where it was. We started walking down the street, some police men gave us the wrong directions, so we resorted to asking taxi drivers, but the not one of them in the whole line-up knew where it was. After over an hour of walking and asking, it seemed hopeless so we looked asked a few people and finally got helpful directions to an internet cafe. I got more specific directions not only for Athens but for all the hostels for the rest of the trip. I was relieved to see that I got a confirmation email from the tour company that would be taking us on a day-tour during our third and final day in Athens and that they would pick us up right near our hostel. Of course, as we checked out, the guy at the counter told us where the street was on our map, so we were able to finally find it hours after arriving in the city.

Since all the ancient sites were in the same area of the city, I decided we would hit all of that during our full day tomorrow, and would knock-off the close by National Archaeology Museum that night.The hostel receptionist was able to give a lot of information about the city and he confirmed my plan saying the museum was open until 8 all week. Of course, when we got there at 5:30, the museum was closing because there was a special exhibition that night to celebrate Croatia joining the EU that day. Unbelievable! Here we were again running up against some unforeseeable and unusual roadblock that would mess with our ability to see all we wanted to see.

All the main historic sites were closed for the night, but I decided we should go to the area around the Acropolis to explore and see it at night, which we would not get to do if we were visiting the museum the next night before going to bed early. It was a great decision and the closure may have worked in our favor in the end. We were walked through some gardens, visited the ugly Greek Parliament building, walked the streets, and of course found a way to shove our faces with more gyro. We passed several groups of police officers who outfitted with body armor, motorbikes, and riot gear. This heavy police presence was in response to the economic crisis and the following civil unrest, but this over the top show of force seemed to provide more anxiety than security. I used the travel book to find the two best lookout points in the area and we spent a good amount of time on Philopappos Hill climbing rocks and gazing over both the acropolis to the west and the harbor far to the east before weaving our way down the other side toward Aeropolis Hill where Paul preached to the Athenians about the "unknown god."

After finding a way around the annoying fences, we noticed that the hill was being swarmed by young people. It is the most popular place to watch the sun set, so we figured we might as well join in the fun and perched ourselves at the top. The two of us adventurers seemed to be getting a lot of attention from the adolescents surrounding us. I was trying to figure out why when I heard someone quietly say "Mr. Benner", so I turned and saw Klea, one of my Albanian students who had just graduated from LAC. Well this was an unlikely meeting, and it would turn out not to be the last. We talked for a while about why she was in Athens, how she had come with her cousin to the hill each night, and how she was feeling about college. Although she was very scared about leaving her family and country, I am proud to say that she is now attending Lithuania Christian College along with 4 of her classmates.

After the sun set, we planned to return to the first hill that was higher and with a better view to watch the Acropolis lit up at night. We grabbed a couple local beers and climbed back up through the gardens in the dark to the top of the precipice and parked ourselves to take in the ancient city below. We talked for a couple hours about Hans experience in Guatemala, his desire to go to the army then become a college history professor, about the hardships of being abroad, and how this affected our relationship with God. I was thankful for this time and knew that we would not have done it the next night because of having to be up very early for our ferry to Santorini. Wanting to get to our hostel before midnight, we eventually made our way back among crowds of people still in the streets.

Day 5

The next morning, Hans and I walked to the appointed street corner for pick-up by the tour company before being transferred to our bus that would tour the ancient sites south of the isthmus at Corinth. We passed by the island of Salamis where the Athenian navy defeated the vastly larger Persian invasion fleet effectively ending the Persian incursion in Greece. first stopped at the deep canal connecting the Adriatic with the Aegean Sea and got to see one small boat pass before heading down to sanctuary of Asclepius in Epidaurus. This ancient site has one of the largest and best preserved ancient theaters in the world and it still had amazing acoustics. From the central point of the stage floor, you could drop a quarter or speak in a normal voice and be heard all the way at the top, which is quite impressive for an outdoor venue. After rumbling around the theater, we scurried our way to the rest of the site which was mostly in ruins, but there was enough that you could get a sense of the size and function of this place of healing blessed by Asclepius the god of medicine.

We then drove south to the beautiful coastal city of Nafplio, which is protected by three different Venetian fortresses and served as the first capital of modern Greece. We had less than an hour to explore, so I walked down the promenade along the water and then came back through the flower-girded Italian style streets with quaint cafes and shops. We then drove toward the jewel of the tour, Mycanae, the capital city of the Mycenaean and likely where King Agamemnon from the Illiad ruled. We stopped outside the site at a large restaurant for lunch where everyone was served Greek salad, bread, french fries, and lamb.

Before entering the main site, separated from the city, we visited a grave cluster containing the great royal beehive-style stone tombs covered over by earth. Then at the main site our guide gave us some background as we approached the famed Lion's Gate with two lions carved into the stone above the entryway. On the bottom level was the royal tomb cluster where the famous Mask of Agamemnon was found along with loads of other gilded jewelry and objects. We continued to walk up the slope that the fortress city was built on up to the palace. The palace rooms seemed very small and not as ornate as some, but it is still amazing that such a city was built and such wealth amassed almost four millennia ago in an area of such mountainous geography.

After taking in the commanding view over the entire plain below, we left Mycenae and stopped at a shop with all sorts of figurines and hand-painted pottery for sale, a money grab opportunity typically included in these type of day tours. Then we returned back to Athens along the sea passing a couple hills that were acropolis sites for other ancient Greek city-states. After being dropped of, Hans and I hit several mini-markets to procure a feast of up bread, sausage, cheese, pickles, olives, tomato, pepper, banana, cherries, plums, yogurt, pastries, and juice. We hung around in the room for a while writing in our journals and doing wash before going to bed.

Day 6

Since none of the sights open until 10am, we were able to take our time and find some great mini-markets to supply breakfast and snacks along the way. We started at the Acropolis and I was pleasantly surprised when I was given a hefty 10 euro ticket for free because of the international teacher's card that I had bought, which had not worked previously. We joked about this as we made our way through the crowds up the turning white marble steps and through the front gate of the Acropolis of ancient Athens.

After stopping to take in the fact that we just crossed that ancient threshold we turned left to check out the Erechtheion, including the famous porch of the Caryatids (on the cover of my guide book), which was a temple partially dedicated to Poseidon. Legend has it that the Athenians decided to dedicate their city to Athena rather than Poseidon after a gift-giving competition. Poseidon struck the ground with his trident causing salt water to come out while Athena made an olive tree grow. The citizens found the olive tree more useful, so they dedicated themselves to Athena.

Next we slowly walked around the Parthenon, which dominates the area of the acropolis and was a temple for the worship of Athena. It was very well preserved until the Turks decided to store their ammunition inside. The Venetians bombarded the city and when the temple was struck, there was a massive explosion that blew off the roof and most of the one side. They are currently still in the process of reconstruction. We took our time trying to take everything in on what may be the most famous ancient site in the world. There was a great lookout over the city and plenty of picture opportunities along with site guards blowing their whistles at anyone getting too close to the monuments. As we finished rounding the Acropolis and prepared to sit to eat, we ran into the girls.

Kelsee Foote had studied with both of us in Jerusalem during our semester abroad. She is a independent and strong-spirited adventuress who could be compared to an elegant and intellectual Amazonian. She had just graduated college and was in the midst of several months of backpacking with her sister, Danielle, throughout southeastern Europe. We had talked about meeting up to travel long before and had arranged to travel together for a few days in Greece. I knew they were in Athens but figured our itineraries would not match up, but since we ran into each other, we spent some time discussing what had been going on and agreed to meet up at the archaeological museum that night.

After parting ways, and finishing our food, we descended down the eastern slope of the acropolis checking out the old theaters positioned here and getting a sense of scale for the cliffs that acropolis was mostly surrounded by. We visited the Acropolis museum that was full of statues and other remains found on the site, with the top floor being built to mirror the outlay of the Parthenon. Then we ventured out into the Plaka district to execute a broad sweep of ancient sites.

Our first stop was Hadrian's arch followed by the temple of Zeus, which was nothing but a raised chunk of earth with a few massive pillars left standing, but it was the largest temple on mainland Greece. Then we jutted out to the Panathenaic Stadium which hosted the Games of the I Olympiad in 1896. We cut back haphazardly through the streets seeing parks, cafes, palaces, and old churches until we eventually arrived at the Roman Agora. Although we had been taking our time, we found out the sites closed earlier then listed in my book so we quick made our way through the remains dominated by the well-preserved Tower of the Winds. Skirting our way over to the Ancient Agora, there was an old chapel that I chanted in before we found ourselves on the main drag of the ancient Greek city where both sides of the wide street would have been lined with colonnades and roofed shops serving as the social and economic heart of the city. Before it closed, we made our way to the Temple of Hephaestus, which we had seen from the hill during sunset, which is the best preserved Doric temple in the world.

A crescendo of whistles was blown by the guards signaling closing time so we ran around for our final view then exited. We bought some fruit and checked out some shops in the city before taking the metro back to our hostel. We were tired and very hungry from our long day of site hopping, so we revisited the mini-markets for another feast to fill our stomachs in the hostel eating area before going to the room to do some laundry and take a short nap. There was not another country who happened to join the EU that day so were were able to enter the museum, which was tightly-packed with quality ancient stuff.

Having taught ancient Greek history, I noticed they heavily stressed that the Cycladic civilization beginning during the 4th millennium BC was the earliest in Greece. I had taught the widely accepted understanding that the Minoan civilization on Crete beginning around the same time was the first. In addition, the Minoans were basically ignored throughout the museum, which had rooms of displays for Cycladic, Mycenaen, Classical, Hellenistic, and finally Roman collections on the main floor. The few displays they had for the Minoans were found in a separate exhibit on the mostly closed second floor. My guess was that the mainland Greeks were upset that Crete kept all of the best Minoan artifacts in their museum, so they intentionally disregarded that era both out of lack of artifacts and for spite.

The Cycladic pieces were interesting because they were very distinct from other ancient civilizations with long, smooth features and because they were largely unknown to me. From Mycenae they had the famed Golden Mask of Agamemnon, gilded swords and jewlery, Linear B tablets, and lots of pottery. The rest of the pieces were mostly statues, but it was interesting to see the progression from Classical to Late Roman.Hans was frustrated that two exhibits he was very interested in, Cyprus and Egypt, were closed and the book highlighted their Egyptian collection as one of the best so I talked to the lady at the information desk suggesting that we had come to the museum in part to see the Egyptian collection. She eventually called one of the guards who took us back to the exhibit and gave us twenty minutes to check it out...like a boss!

After the museum closed, we met the girls outside. As was to be expected due to the high historic interest levels Hans and I, they moved through the museum more quickly and came away with different observations. Since everything was closed, we talked for a couple and I was able to catch up with what Kelsee had done for the past couple years and what she was hoping to do after her travels. We confirmed our boarding details for the ferry to Santorini where we would meet them early the next morning.

Day 7

In the morning, we headed out to Pireas harbor area by subway, picked up our tickets, and went out in search for some bread and cheese to eat during the journey and were able to find a guy who would let us in early after Hans walked in and kept asking questions basically insisting we be able to buy cheese. When we returned to the boat and got to our reserved seats, the girls were there waiting and it was not long until we were off.

Our ride was scheduled to take about 8 hours and I anticipated sleeping for much of it, but conversation quickly took the upper hand. I continued to get caught up with Kelsee then got to know Danielle who had been living around Boston while completing her master’s program in psychology. Periodically, I would go out to visit Hans who had taken up residence on deck and check out our progress and surroundings. The most interesting observing was when we docked at the islands Paros and Ios and hordes of people and trucks unloaded from the ship followed by a larger swarm that waited to board. Hans had been charting our progress and so we anticipated the dramatic views as we approached Santorini by claiming a space along the railway. We sailed into the middle of the group of islands where cliffs of brown and red volcanic rock bordered the sea with white, layered cities perched along the edge.

We docked, waited to exit, boarded a bus that climbed the winding road up the cliff, and then hopped on another bus that took us to Oia, the famous white-washed town of Santorini. The drive took us through twisting sun-baked streets that revealed the shape of the island which slopes gradually downward away from the sea-cliffs. There used to be one landmass, but the volcano at the center violently erupted causing the heart of the island to fall into the sea. There were few trees but there was a good amount of shrubs and grasses apart from the barren red-rock cliffs.

From the bus, we walked through the tight-knit streets to our hostel, which was beautifully positioned around a central courtyard with a couple patios on the roof. The receptionist was bombarded with requests, so I checked us in slowly and got all the information needed to strategize for the next day and a half. After some lazy deliberation, we walked down a winding path to the beach below the cliffs and found an area used for cliff jumping. The main leap was about 25 feet, which was enough to bring discomfort to my ears, but it was worth it. We then walked along the coast and climbed another winding path back into the city ending at the old castle just as people were gathering there for the sunset. This is definitely one of the best places in the world to watch the sunset and we each climbed around the crowd to get a full view. Since we had neglected to eat anything for most of the day, we stopped for gyro before returning to the hostel. I went to the roof to relax under the stars while Hans mingled with a couple Korean girls before bed.

Day 8

In the morning we ate breakfast provided by the hostel on the balcony then started off for a hike along the cliff edge. We walked for a couple miles first taking in the terraced beauty of Oia as we climbed then pausing to experience the barrenness and beauty of the arid cliffs and shrubs juxtaposed by the expanse of sea below. When we reached a picturesque monastery perched on the hillside we stopped for pictures and basking in the sun. Hans ran up to the top of the highest hill quickly soon to be pursued by a rumbling wolf where we got a view over most of the island. I began taking panorama footage to document our position when a Tusken Raider appeared with its guttural groaning leading to an explosion of laughter.

We rejoined the girls and made our way back on the path the way we came taking in the sites from another direction. After gathering our stuff, we got picked up in a truck and taken to a small vehicle rental place where we rented a small car for the day. With the windows down and foreign music blaring we felt pretty cool driving down the gentle slope of the island to the eastern coast. We stopped along the road at a vineyard where we sat to try the local wine. Danielle and I felt like the parents of the bunch as we read about the background, scents, and tastes included in these unique, volcanic-grown wines as Hans and Kelsee returned from stuffing their faces and pockets with pilfered grapes.

Continuing down the coast, all roads led to Fira, the central city on the island, before we emerged back to the central cliffs along the southern part of the island. At an overlook, we stopped the car to take in the broken island from this new perspective. A strong wind was blowing in from the sea causing the water to slap inaudibly and forcing us to literally lean toward the edge if we were going to keep our balance without holding onto something. I began to throw some of the porous pebbles into the air so that they went out and returned like a boomerang. At this point, an exciting phenomena occurred. Hans found a plastic bottle partly-filled with water and hurled it forward. My amusement quickly turned to worry as the wind whipped the bottle into the air and back over his head toward the road just as a car was driving by. However, the bottle avoided this undesirable collision by slamming perfectly into a trash container sitting along the road fifty feet behind Hans. We responded with shocked excitement while Hans screamed in blind triumph at the unlikely chance of this trash finding its way home.

We next found our way to the ancient site of Akrotiri, which can be described as the ancient Greek version of Pompeii. This important ancient settlement was covered over by volcanic ash following the great eruption. Although less dramatic and expansive than Pompeii, Akrotiri is the best representation of what a typical Minoan town (2nd millenium BC) may have looked like and has yielded some of the most important Minoan artifacts including frescoes, tools, and furniture. Hans and I visited the site, which is protected by a newly completed indoor facility, while the girls relaxed on the beach. We got to walk on part of the site at street level and I saw a depiction of "drowned men" which reminded me of the Drowned god and the salt-water baptisms of the Iron Islands in Game of Thrones.

After a sufficient examination, we picked up the girls and drove to the "Red Beach" to relax on one of the most unique, and seemingly dangerous, beaches available. We hiked around the hill and climbed down to the long and narrow beach situated under a high wall of deep-red volcanic rock. As Hans and I ventured over to a secluded swimming area along the rocks I found out that he could not swim properly as all of his powerful figure was lost swiping around like a confused tiger. After a couple demonstrations, he seemed to be progressing much better and we enjoyed the views looking back at the beach and taking underwater pictures with his indestructible camera.

We returned to the girls and ate an early picnic dinner on the beach. As we prepared to leave after basically everyone else had left, Hans and I began to experiment with throwing rocks and into the rock wall above and having them fall back down toward us. Then I decided to see if I could hit the top of one spire, and after a few tries, I crow-hop and launched one near the top. But instead of the normal small stone falling back down, it somehow had caused a small avalanche of rocks and one large chunk came crashing down right through one of the lounge chairs provided on the beach. After investigation, we could see that there was a two foot hole perfectly where a tourists head would have rested had they been lounging there. I felt a bit bad for breaking the chair, but much more confused, if not frustrated, at the lack of safety precaution relating to the unsound rock face looming above the heads of those on the beach. If my small stone had dislodged such a mass of rock, then a stiff breeze could cause these weathered slopes to crumble. That rock would certainly have killed whoever was lounging there so I was, in a way, proud to have sent a message to the people in charge of that beach and to perhaps have prevented those same rocks from falling on actual people at a later time.

In leaving, we decided to rush back to Oia in time to catch the last moments of the sun disappearing over the distant horizon. Although it did not seem we would make it, I weaved through the streets and we walked up to the castle for the literally the last seconds of sun before the traditional clapping and cheering by the crowd. We then explored the streets and shops at night, which was brought a whole new atmosphere and beauty. After some confusing interactions and happenings, I decided to stop the group at an overlook point for a quick jam session followed by hours of conversation and soaking in our surroundings. I discussed with Danielle how lifestyle and attitude are intertwined with faith and how living with life abundant in Christ has to do with believing and living out God's promises in your life. How can you teach or pass these experiences onto others who are seeking abundant life? We also talked about differences in our personalities and how to check pride as we seek to grow.

Hans and I were going to take a ferry arriving in the middle of the night to Crete, while the girls had decided to sleep over, so we said goodbye for a while. We stopped at a market to buy some food for the journey including a container holding over a quart of generic Nutella. It conveniently worked out that we could leave the car at the port, and I thought we should refill the tank to where it was when we got it. The problem was the roads were abandoned and everything seem closed. I pulled into a dark gas station just to check if we could pump gas by card, but alas we could not.

As I pulled out, a car came toward us, rolled down its windows, and the men inside yelled at me in Greek. Not wanting to get involved in anything in the middle of the night in the middle of nowhere, I kept driving. I saw behind me the car turn around to follow us. Hans was sleeping and I decided to quicken the pace to make it to an area in the town of Fira. As we were coming into town, the car pulled up next to us and the men motioned for us to pull over like police men. Since I did not want to get in huge trouble, I decided to pull over, wake Hans, and quickly update him. The two men came up to the car with flashlights, showed ID, and asked for our identification in broken English. Since they were not in a police car or uniforms we refused. They tried to search the car but we did not move out of their way.

Soon an actual police car pulled up and a guy with a jacket resembling a police officer speaking better English asked why we were not cooperating. We explained what had happened and gave our ID to him because we could see he was an officer. He made us get out of the car while they took down our information and searched the car. He told us he was a narcotics officer who suspected we had drugs. After an exchange of questions, he eventually revealed that they recently had a gas station robbed and that the officers were scoping it out when I had pulled in to check if I could get gas. He suggested that it was illegal for us to drive a rental car in Greece without an international driver's license, but I explained that I had specifically asked that question to the rental company. He threatened that we were both wrong and could be prosecuted but after not giving ground, he let us go.

Adrenaline pumping but relieved, we drove down the winding path to the port and waited a couple hours for the ferry to arrive, while sitting along the water inhaling banana and bread with lots of Nutella. We even saw the two officers who pulled us over and they smiled and greeted us "Hey, American." Hardly awake, we stumbled aboard the ship when it arrived and found our way to our cabin with sleeping bunks that I had smartly reserved. Although I had to nervously check on our progress several times because we were behind schedule, we eventually arrived after a decent sleep and I woke up at the right time for us to leave...so much for waking us as promised.

Day 9

Iraklio is the largest city in Crete, so we got our bearings by first locating the bus station and getting a timetable for possibilities of when we could leave that night. We planned, washed up, stored our luggage and boarded the shuttle bus to Knossos, a famous Minoan palace. The palace was not built as a defensive structure, but the techniques used are fascinating for its time nearly 2,000 years before Christ. There was a drainage and sewer system, several floors of rooms, and wonderful painted frescoes. The frescoes preserved from Akrotiri and Knossos suggest that the Minoans were not war-like but focused on trade and recreation. It seems women had a high position in society because they are depicted participating in feasts and sporting events, wearing ornate fashions, and the primary deity was a mother goddess who is shown with bare breasts holding two snakes to represent her control over fertility and nature.

Hans and I spent hours at the sight visiting together until we drifted apart taking in the vast and impressive space. Legend has it that the bottom of the palace contained a vast labyrinth where the famed Minotaur lived before being defeated by the hero Theseus. Sir Arthur Evans had excavated the sight and he decided to liberally reconstruct many of the areas. Many of the signs eluded to him going too far because there is little evidence to suggest the way that he reconstructed is historically accurate. However, it was nice to have a sight where some rooms were fully reconstructed and even painted because it me a more concrete picture of what the palace may have looked like. After taking in the frescoes, grand staircase, and throne room we made our way out and stopped at a few shops before returning to Iraklio.

On returning, we found an outdoor restaurant that served a massive amount of French fries on top of their gyros where we ordered three different gyros which was enough to stuff us for the rest of the day. We then went to the archaeological museum displaying all the finds from Knossos and other relics from throughout Crete that were so coveted by the museum in Athens. There was a glyph that likely contains the oldest writing found in Europe, the bull-leaping fresco among others, double-headed axes that were the symbol of power, and huge pots with Greyjoy-esque octopuses painted on. The development of civilization was obvious from the artistic progression during the historical stages before the earthquake which destroyed the palace, after which society became more violent and less sophisticated.

As I was leaving the museum I could not find Hans, I looped through again, then ran around the building, then looped through again and was frustrated because our bus was leaving soon and we had to go. Somehow we had missed each other because he was going to the bathroom, but had been looking for me as well. Thankfully on my last lap around the building, we saw each other and began running toward the bus station. For some reason, it seemed like any movement needed to make a scheduled bus was cursed as our given directions were wrong again so we ran around and a nagging pain stabbed at my abdomen until finally we made it to the station, got our things, and boarded our bus for Chania.

Chania seemed like a city of energy and beauty as we walked the streets looking for our hostel. Again, it took multiple times asking for directions because of some weird street organization, but we found our place, used the internet to connect back to home, went to our room, left a message for the girls who would hopefully be arriving later that night, and I headed out to a mini-market to get food to pack for our planned day-hike. As I laid down to sleep, I hear the girls come in, so I checked in with them and confirmed our plans for the next day.

Day 10

We woke up early, ate some breakfast, and traversed back across the city for a bus that would take us to the Samaria Gorge. This gorge is the longest in Europe crossing most of the length of the island from north to south with beautifully varying environments as altitudes change. When we arrived, it was very cold and foggy at the top but after beginning the steeply descending switchback trail our bodies warmed and it cleared up. Since this was a day-hike, I urged the others to take their time and stop to take in views along the way. Although I like to wander, climb around, or throw stuff to add adventure, Hans and Kelsee are an extreme combination of chemicals that seem to want to respond and outdo each other leading to rock slides down the path, tree crushing, and extensive venturing off the path, which I did not notice was against park rules until some people walked by who had heard the commotion and warned us of such a policy.

At one point we stood on a precipice that overlooked the gorge all around and Hans recorded a video of sliding sunbeams. There was another time where Hans and Kelsee went off for alone time leaving Danielle and I to discuss the state of things. Later we sat on rocks by the stream to have our lunch and noticed that we would have to speed up in order to finish the trail on time to catch the boat to a town where we could board a bus back to Chania. There were some ancient rock shrines that had been used for thousands of years. The path wound down out of the timber forest to an lush green area with beautiful pools of water and strangely twisting Cyprus trees and trunks then through a pine woodland, before emerging at the bottom of the chasm filled by boulders thrown down from the soaring cliffs on either side.

We took short rests and refilled our water many times until eventually we arrived at a town full of sheep pens and restaurants along the coast. We confirmed the boat time and figured we had just enough to grab another gyro for sustenance. The boat sailed along the coast full of hundreds of people who had hiked the gorge that day and my enjoyment of the tired journey was increased by a much needed backrub. When we got on the bus, Hans and I passed out because the last couple days had been very draining with the early morning threatened arrest and ferry.

Although we were filthy, we decided to remain in the old city near the bus station for a couple hours before returning to the hostel. We walked through the streets looking for something affordable before we decided to get frozen yogurt after Hans was awkwardly targeted for confrontation by the shopkeeper regarding the quality of the yogurt assuring us that it was not made from a mix. We treated Danielle because it was her birthday then walked out to the harbor area to sit on a bench along the lighted promenade before calling it a day.

Day 11

With nowhere pressing to be, we slept for a long time before heading back to the old town with the girls. Our first stop was the naval museum attached to the Venetian fortress that was unfortunately closed early after we finished. It was obvious from the museum displays that seafaring had always been the defining lifestyle and culture of Crete. There were dozens of detailed models of ships from the bronze age up to WWII. A repeatedly mentioned point of pride was that the rowers on the Greek triremes and other boats down through the ages were always free men as opposed to those aboard Roman, Venetian, and Turkish boats.

We took a stroll through the old city looking for monuments. The most significant find was the Venetian shipyards still mostly intact and a church that had been converted from Orthodox to Venetian Catholic, to an Ottoman mosque, and finally back to Greek Orthodox. We walked back to the main beach area along the promenade and enjoyed our last few hours together on the beach. Hans and I decided to swim out to this rock island several hundred yards off the beach showcasing Hans newfound ability to make significant progress in water without sinking albeit in more buoyant salt-water. Hans crafted a replica of the old city fortifications seen in the museum while Kelsee and I discussed the evolving attitudes toward life as we grow. When it was time to go, the group of us headed back to the hostel, packed up, grabbed some more groceries, and bid farewell before Hans and I returned to the bus station for our trip back to Iraklio.

Hans and I arrived in Iraklio after 11pm and we had to take a taxi with a set rate, that Hans wanted to walk away from, to the airport. We killed some time by pounding our food and scooping out the remainder of our Nutella with bread to finish it since we could not take it with us. A whole tub of Nutella in three days was a bit messy. Our flight was leaving at 2:30am so we were so exhausted from all the staying up at night that I hardly remember much about boarding or the flight except Hans' strong feelings of nostalgia each of the last couple of days and hours before departure as he kept repeating, "I can't believe we are soon leaving Greece." But we were excited for what was to come because we were bound for Espana.