The night St. Andrews got creepy

On 25 March, something very strange happened in town. Yes, it has been foggy here in St. Andrews before, but nothing like this. The morning started out with really bad visibility - you could see maybe 100 yards (clearly) down the street, but at night it got REALLY sketchy. This was the first time since arriving in St. Andrews that I was afraid to walk home alone. Normally, I feel incredibly safe in town. Safe enough to walk back to hall by myself past midnight even. The CCTV is always on, and, as demonstrated by the last post, the police are always watching. But that evening, I couldn't see ten feet in front of me, and walking home from the library became 20 minutes of constantly jerking my neck around looking to see if anyone was coming up on me, whether it be a car when crossing the street, or a person who would be able to conceal themselves in the midst. Of course, this being me, I had my camera handy, and didn't miss the opportunity to take some cool photos. I'll just let the pictures do the talking this time




Looking out towards the North Sea.






You can barely make out the tower of St. Salvator's Chapel.


Starbucks looking sad and forlorn.

The time I thought I was going to get arrested

Yes, I realize this is extremely late, but there are some stories I haven't told yet about the time I spent in Scotland and Europe. So here we go ...

First topic for discussion, Student Union elections! They did occur before I left for Spain, but they're still important. The Student Union is effectively, St. Andrew's version of the Student Government Association (SGA) that we have at Elon. This year, my friend from hall, and one of our senior students was running for Association President. Zis Souflas (his father is Greek) was always really kind to me when I first arrived, so when he asked me to join his campaign, I signed right on. My friends Nate, Kirsty, Jules, David, and Kabello were all on board, so I figured 'Why not? Haven't been politicing for a while, may as well.'

The week before the election, we all met one night to chalk up the sidewalks around town with phrases such as 'Zis: The Naked President / Precedent', 'Zis for Association President', 'Our President should be naked' - Zis was running on transparency, hence the calls for a 'naked president'. Nate and I were tasked to chalk the courtyard in Logie's Lane and the path to the library down Muttoes Lane. We successfully drew a giant 'ZIS' in Logie's Lane and then proceeded down Muttoes. After finishing Muttoes, Nate suggested we turn left on North Street and chalk down that way as well. As we were walking down, he mentioned to me, 'We should watch out for the police.' I suddenly had a flashback to an incident with sidewalk chalk when I was three years old and our family had to mop it off the sidewalk at the St. Regis Hotel in Topsail, North Carolina. Great Nate, thanks for warning me. As I was bent over, writing, 'Zis, 19.03.2010', I heard it. The unmistakeable sound of a police siren. Completely startled, I jumped up and am quite certain I had my hands in the air for a second. Fortunately, Nate, being a good friend, heard it too and didn't bail on me, but came over to accept his share of the responsibility. The police came over and said, 'We've been watching you on the Closed Circuit Televisions since you were on Market Street. Did you know that this is illegal?' I was mortified. I thought to myself, 'Well, that's it. I'm going to be deported for criminal activity. All that money my parents spent, wasted.' I finally answered, 'No sir, I didn't know it was illegal to do this. I assumed since I'd seen it done before that it was okay.' He then took down my name, phone number, and place of residence. 'I've really done it this time,' I thought. 'I'm going to be arrested for defacing public property and they'll have to extradite me home.' Then the policemen, to my absolute shock, said, 'Alright, don't do it again. Have a good evening.' I stood there, mouth agape as they drove away. I looked at Nate and he said, 'Thought as much. They once caught me trespassing on the Castle grounds and told me to be safe and have a pleasant evening. They really could care less as long as you're not an axe murderer.' So there it is, the time I thought I would get arrested for sidewalk chalk. I swear, I'm never touching that stuff again for as long as I live - it seems to be the one substance that gets me into trouble with the authorities.

Anyway, the next week we all showed up to support Zis' campaign. It was a really strange support camp we had set up - it could be described as a temporary hippy commune. We had a bunch of broken instruments on a gross yellow blanket where someone had shabbily taken black ribbon and used it to sew on 'Z!S 19.03.10'. All we really did was yell at people as they were walking into the polling station, 'Hey you! Vote for Zis.' And sang, 'Give Zis a chance.' Kirsty, Nate, and a kid named Ty and I then proceeded to walk down Market Street with a Zis, ehm, mace, screaming out, 'Vote for Zis!' Here are the pictures of the day:

Students who live in the flats above the shops on Market Street hung banners from their windows supporting various students for office.

Nate and Ty with our shabby banner.

Our Z!S stickers.

Kirsty and Nate singing in our hippy commune.

Kirsty, Nate and Ty walking down Market Street with our Zis Mace and posters, singing and yelling at people. It was great fun!

Also, wanted to include a note about the elections. The ballot was really strange and looked almost like a populist system to me where you rate the candidates. Decide for yourself:

Saturday, April 10 - Girona

Sorry this is coming way late, but it's the first chance I've had to update the blog in a LONG time.

This morning started off slow, Sandy caught a stomach bug and was up all night getting sick. However, and I credit Rich Reinhold for this, my immune system is pretty tough, so I managed to not catch whatever Sandy had and was totally fine this morning, so I took the opportunity to walk around Girona a bit more. I went down to Las Ramblas again where people were setting up the Saturday markets. All kinds of local artisans had tables out, displaying their crafts, and there were several local flower shop proprietors who brought out their finest. How I would love to live somewhere like here in Girona, a place where I could wake up in my flat on the Rambla, go down to my local café to pick up the morning coffee, watch the world pass by and then go to my favorite florist to pick up a fresh bouquet for the week. I'm slowly getting more convinced that my personality and preferred lifestyle is more suited to that of the Europeans.

It wasn't just the flowers for sale that were in bloom though, the whole city just seemed to be alive with spring. The weather was absolutely perfect, and what looked like cherry trees that lined the Gran Vía were showing off a resplendent pink that almost showered the down when the wind blue. This place is magical, and I wanted to soak in every last second I could before having to leave.

Girona in the morning. Absolute perfection.

The flower man selling his goods.

The flowers were BEYOND gorgeous!

This menu on Las Ramblas has Catalan, the language spoken in Catalonia.

Can I stay here?

Spring at its fullest and finest.

We left our hostel round noon and headed to the bus station to go to the Girona airport for our flight back to Edinburgh. There wasn't any real sadness for the trip to be over, as both Sandy and I were exhausted and just wanted to stay in the same bed for longer than three nights, and we were both tired of having to constantly be on the ball. We almost felt like we needed a vacation from our vacation! But, neither of us would trade our two week journey through España for anything. Over the past two weeks, we've taken planes, buses, trains, taxi cabs, ferry boats, and walked ourselves to death. We've covered more than 2000 miles, and it all began as we sat in the Starbucks on Market Street, pouring ourselves over literature about Spain, and reading Rick Steves' Guide to Spain as if it were the Bible. But all our planning paid off, and we felt a bit like Charley Boorman and Ewan McGregor, just finishing another adventure. As I look back on our trip, all the things we've done, and all the things we've seen, the only question I have is:

'When is our next adventure?'

Friday, April 9 - Barcelona / Girona

Woke up really early this morning and checked out of our hostel to go to our final destination, Girona. When I agreed to go with Sandy to Spain, I had only one condition: 'I will not go with you unless we stay in Girona for one night.' She agreed. Girona is about an hour and a half's drive out of Barcelona, and is, more importantly, the American cycling capital of Europe. When Lance Armstrong rode for the U.S. Postal Team (a.k.a. 'Le Bleu Tren'), he and the team based their operations out of Girona. Now team Garmin-Slipstream with cyclists like Christian Vande Velde and Dave Zabriskie, as well as team manager Jonathan Vaughters make their home base Girona. I'm not a cycling geek at all.

In my note journal I wrote, simply 'Girona is perfect'. It's a very Mediterranean town, with all this amazing architecture. Siting on a river, it's perfect because it is not touristy, at all, and there are bicycles everywhere. I feel in love. Sandy and I walked up to the old town, but her knees wouldn't allow her to climb the castle, so I did it on my own and had an incredible view of Girona, the river, and looming in the distance, the Pyrenees ... the Spanish cycling proving ground. It's the most amazing place in Spain, in my opinion. There's really nothing to see, but that's what I love about it; you can decompress.

We had a lovely dinner, sitting on the Rambla with the smell of the river in the air, eating burgers at an Irish pub in the middle of Spain served by an obviously flamboyant Irishman. So many clashing cultures ... I love it. We walked around town after it took an extended siesta (siesta is serious business here) and we went into an art gallery to look at a painting I had seen earlier. We walked in and I pointed out to the lady in my semi-horrific Spanish / absolutely horrific Catalan the picture I wanted. She took it down and I knew I had to have it; it's done in what looks like pen and is really bare, but it's just a bunch of bicycles, one of my biggest passions in life. I spoke with her for a bit, as Sandy was speaking to a man who spoke English who was also in the shop. She asked why we were in Girona, and I told her I was a big cycling fan, to which she replied, 'Ahh! Lance Armstrong!' Her response was met with an emphatic, '¡SÍ!' We talked a bit about cycling, and she then proceeded to tell me that it was she who had done the picture I was now purchasing. Just an absolute gem of a woman.

Once I'd finished my purchase, the man whom Sandy had been talking to asked me for my opinion on a poem on one particular painting. I read it and said, 'Yeah this is really good.' After which he indicated that it was he who was the poet. He wanted to make sure the English made sense, and it did and was a well-written piece. When he asked where we were from, Sandy told him Philadelphia, and he said, 'I used to be a neuroscience Ph.D. student at UPenn.' Both our jaws kind of dropped and Sandy said, 'Umm, I'm sorry, but I'm a bit confused as to how you went from neuroscience Ph.D. student at UPenn, to poet in an art gallery in Girona.' He simply smiled and said, 'Sometimes things happen that make you change your entire direction and purpose in life.' Still don't know what that means, but it was certainly poetic.

It was an absolutely gorgeous day, and I couldn't wait for more.

Beautiful Girona!

It is perfect.

Old town.

You can just make out the shadows of the Pyrenees.

I want this view.

'Ooh, heaven is a place on Earth!'

Contador country. Oh wait, I don't like Contador ... hence the next photo.

A very dangerous move on my part, wearing a Lance shirt!

From the roof of our hostel.

Pure magic.

Oh, and did I mention we found The Boss? Yeah we did. Sand and I have 'Springsteen Radar'.

Thursday, April 8 - Barcelona

We woke up early again (getting really tired of that charade) so that we could get to the Sagrada Familía. For those of you who don't know, Sagrada Familía is a cornerstone of Barcelona architecture that was designed by Gaudí and construction began on it in 1882 ... they have yet to finish. Now, let's all take a moment and say, 'Oh, Spain.' Yes, despite the fact that they've been working on this thing for the last, oh, 128 years, THEY'RE STILL NOT DONE. AND THEY DONT' THINK THEY'LL BE DONE UNTIL 2026. Dude, Spain, seriously, get it together. Why hasn't Jon Stewart done a piece on this yet?

Anyway, Gaudí is really famous for taking elements in nature and using them in his design which has resulted in what can only be described, as Sandy so eloquently put it, 'The Lady Gaga of churches.' Both ridiculous and unnecessary, and yet, somehow, it still pulls us in. We beat the crowds by getting there early and headed straight to the Nativity (or Passion, can't remember) Tower and went up the elevator to the top! Definitely a cool view, but it was obstructed by the facade of the tower. You could see the beginnings of the 'Jesus Christ Tower' which will be the center piece of the church and on it's top there will be a giant cross that shines light from it's three points. Dear. God. I think even He would throw up His hands and say, 'Dude, Gaudí, too much. Too much.' It really is quite an amazing church and one that everyone must see. It is difficult to describe the church in words, so hopefully the pictures below will demonstrate just how just absurdly awesome it is.

Absurd.

The back, a.k.a. the side Gaudí did not work on ... clearly.

The beginnings of the Jesus tower. Who knows when they'll finish.

Inside ... just as ridiculous.

The House of God? The House of Gaudí? Or the Haüs of Gaga?

After Sagrada Familía we went to Parc Güell, Gaudí's other creation. It is basically a large outdoor park that Gaudí originally created with the intention of being a park for rich people. Too bad for him, that didn't quite pan out, because now it's a public park, overrun by tourists and black market sellers. Wonderful. You (Mom) may remember the park from a season of America's Next Top Model ... I think they were running through the arches in the park? Anyway, it's a nice park, but it's just a bit weird ... and brown for my taste. But the mosaic patterns were really nice.

Parc Güell ... no rich people here.

I liked these porticos ... but they weren't mind-blowing.

Outside of the mosaic plaza.

Oh hi.

Following Parc Güell, we headed back to the hostel. Sandy went to rest, and I met Igor at Plaça de Espanya for another walking adventure. This time, we went up the Magic Fountain first and headed towards the Olympic Village and the Olympic Stadium where Barcelona hosted in 1992. It was really cool to see the stadium, although a bit surprising because it seemed really small in comparison to, say Beijing for instance, or even the venue for Sydney. It was really awesome to see where the whole thing happened though, but we weren't done there. Oh no. This was an Igor tour after all! We continued to climb Montjuïc to get to the fort at the very top; man was it a hike!

Do I hear 'Summon the Heroes' playing?

You can see the white spire of the Olympic Village.

At the top we walked around the old fort that used to guard Barcelona during World War II and sat and chatted like we always used to do. Igor and I always had such lovely chats and it was so wonderful to be able to just sit and talk again. I miss that a lot about His Royal Highness. Following our chat, Igor and I walked down the other side of Montjuïc. On the way down, we found a beautiful man-made waterfall, a really manly statue of a flamenco dancer, and, most importantly, A ZIP LINE!!!!!! It was just there, so we figured, 'why not?' and jumped on it. Igor's height gave him the advantage so he was able to go all the way across with hardly any effort. Tall people ... ugh.

Photo taken from the fort, courtesy of Prince Ihar.

At the waterfall.

Igor and the really jacked flamenco dancer. We're still debating the statue's gender.

Igor on the zip line!

After this Igor dropped me off at the hostel. We said goodbye, both incredibly sad that our time had ended, but with the reassurance of 'we'll definitely see each other again'. Igor and I will make it happen!

But our story doesn't end here. Something I haven't mentioned about Sandy is that she has a deathly, and frankly, irrational fear of gingers. As in, she is horrified by them. I get back to the hostel and walk into our room, and Sandy said, 'OMG! The worst night of my life is about to occur!' She then proceeded to tell me that, not just a ginger, but a 6'10" bearded ginger was sleeping in the bunk below her. I nearly died laughing. But when he came in, he and I hit it off really well because he's from Tacoma, Washington and we're both big fans of the Mariners and had an awesome chat about the glory days with Ken Griffey, Randy Johnson, Alex Rodriguez (before he became a traitor and a jerk), Jay Buhner, Edgar Martinez ... it was like revisiting my childhood. Sandy just looked at us funny. We closed out the evening with dinner at Hard Rock where they have this awesome haystack salad. Good way to end a grand day!

Wednesday, April 7 - Granda / Barcelona

We woke up at 6AM today ... good Lord. But we had to as we had an early morning flight from Granada to Barcelona. That's right. We took a plane from Granada to Barca. Honestly, it would've taken between 7-10 hours via bus / train and it was actually cheaper to fly, only €15. Couldn't have gotten a better deal. We landed in Barcelona (really bumpy landing by the way, there is a reason that pilot does the regional flights). We then took a bus into Barcelona near the Arc de Triomf (not the real one which is in Paris) and then took the metro to our hostel which is at the base of Montjuïc which is Catalan for 'Mount of the Jews'. Sandy and I laughed a little too hard at that. Barcelona is definitely different from the rest of Spain. First of all, it is in the fiercely independent region of Catalonía. They do not speak Spanish, they speak Catalan, so the language barrier was upped because it's not Spanish, but it's kind of similar. I'll be glad to return to a place where they speak English. After a lunch break we went back to the hostel and met none other than the one, the only, the infamous, His Royal Highness, Prince Ihar Pilipenka III. Okay, he's not really a prince, but it says so on his American Airlines air miles card, and they've never questioned him about it because he's from Belarus and they don't know anything about Belarus ... or that it used to be part of the Soviet bloc and therefore it would not make sense for there to be a royal family. Although if there were, I'm sure Igor would be part of it! Igor lived in the International Pavilion with me during my freshmen year and is now studying for his L.L.M. in Barcelona. We were always really close during my first year, and we went to Barcelona more with the intention to see Igor than anything else! Igor met us at our hostel and then we proceeded on what can only be dubbed as 'Igor's Bootcamp Walking Tour of Barcelona: Guaranteed to Lose 5 Lbs.' Boy is insane. I think we walked about 7 miles from the base of Montjuïc, to the Plaça de Espanya, down the length of Las Ramblas to Igor's school, throughout the Jewish quarter and shopping districts, down to the pier, and back to Las Ramblas. All at Igor speed too. So if you're looking to drop a few, see Igor!

But anyway, on our grand adventure, Igor showed us where all the Barcelona fashion shows are held, took us to the Plaça de Espanya and the 'Magic Fountain' (not so magical because it wasn't running). At the top of the Magic Fountain is the Barcelona Art Museum, we went inside only so that Igor could show us that you have to go through security to get into the Museum and it's completely absurd, and to also show us some of the ridiculous safety signs in the museum. Leave it to Igor to find the random! We also sat down in the café outside of the museum in what we all agreed were the most comfortable chairs we've ever sat in. We spent a few minutes trying to figure out if it was possible to steal them.

The Art Museum at Plaça de Espanya with the allegedly 'Magic Fountain'.

Me and Igor!

This was made abundantly clear.

View from the Art Museum of Barcelona. According to Igor, there is a theme park at the top of the middle mountain next to a giant statute of Jesus. So when you are on a roller coaster, calling out to the Lord, He is there. Oh Igor.

The most comfortable chair in Barcelona.

From the Museum, we then walked back to Plaça de Espanya down Gran Via de los Corts Catalanes to visit Igor's school, Universitat Central. The main campus is absolutely beautiful, except the law students don't get to use it. He also pointed out that the architecture students are stuck in what is widely regarded as the ugliest building in Barcelona, whereas everyone else has a much nicer building with ponds filled with koi fish and well-manicured gardens. He also took us for a giant Chinese buffet ... and now it's time to confess, dear Igor, we weren't really that hungry for 'dinner' yet at 4PM, but the Chinese was delicious!

Igor at his school!

We then continued on our journey down Las Ramblas which is the main 'high street' in Barcelona. Igor told us that in the summer time, you cannot walk down Las Ramblas because it is jammed with tourists - and it was already pretty crowded. Down Las Ramblas we went to the Monument a Colom, the Christopher Columbus Monument, which according to Igor is not pointing towards America as intended, but rather, Japan. Leave it to Igor to know all the absurd facts! He took us down the pier to Rambla del Mar and what can only be described as the mall, called Maremagnum. We then walked back to Las Ramblas, and Igor took us to one of his favorite churro and chocolate shops, except in Catalan, churros and chocolate are spelled 'xurros' and 'xocolate'. Weird. Igor continued to take us round to El Raval where there were some stores Sandy wanted to check out.

Christopher Columbus, pointing the wrong way. Classic.

The marina.

Our final stop on Igor's whirlwind, see everything in one day, tour of Barcelona, was the Mercat de San Joseph - La Boquería. Translation: the Saint Joseph Market - (don't remember that word ... or don't know it because it's catalan). Igor let us in on the best secret in Barcelona. In the Mercat, they have fresh fruit ... really fresh fruit. And during the day, the make fruit juices using the fresh fruit, one for €2. However, in the evening you can two for €1. And let me just say: nom. nom. nom. I got strawberry raspberry, and pineapple coconut. As I was sitting there, drinking one, then the other, I had a brilliant idea. Maybe my most brilliant yet. I realized, 'These would be amazing if I drank them together.' So what could I do? I reverted to my old two straw ways (I used to drink with two straws as a kid), and double fisted for a mouthful of deliciousness. It was the best idea I've ever had and my taste buds were reeling for my epic creation.

Igor's favorite part of the Mercat ... of course!

My best idea ever.

After this, we gave Igor the look of, 'We're exhausted and can't move another step / can't eat another thing.' So we got back on the Metro and headed back to our hostel. From there, we parted ways with Igor (at least until the next day) and crashed back in the hostel. I don't think we could've walked any further if we had wanted to, especially at Igor pace! But it was a wonderful day, and we had a blast!

A map of Igor's Bootcamp Walking Tour of Barcelona ... not fully accurate, but pretty close. Courtesy of mapmyride.com.