Confessions of a Gypsy

Traveling is not for everyone. I am extremely fortunate to experience the world but along with that comes a bit of a price. I've had my fair share of struggles in the past six weeks but have just neglected to write about them. My mother reads this so I was a bit apprehensive. I have decided to come clean about some things so that those of you slaving away in New York don't think I'm on a permanent vacation. So here goes:
Bless me father for I have sinned, it has been (literally) 20 years since my last confession. I will start with the farm. This experience I would not give up for the world but it was time to vacate the premises. It was beautiful and I learned so much and I still keep in touch with the other wwoofers. Besides the hours being too long, I sensed a bit of animosity from the owner. Thinking that I was being sensitive, I mistakenly ignored my intuition. As it turns out the woman's husband left her for a wwoofer and currently lives at a nearby farm with her. They are in a messy divorce over the ownership of the farm. It explained a lot. We were desperately needed there but not wanted. I was ecstatic about moving into the house from the freezing cold caravan even if it was to the storage room. One night in particular was the deciding factor to my departure. As I mentioned before it's extremely dark there at night. So dark in fact that it's as if there was black construction paper on the windows. 'The darkest comes before the dawn' has a whole new definition for me. At 3am, the night prior to my final night there, I awoke because of my full bladder from drinking my usual twenty cups of tea for the day. I always have to pee in the middle of the night and I love it. It's a natural high for me to get back in bed and look at the clock realizing that I have an abundance of sleep remaining and drift off into a deep slumber. It's the little things. The room I was sleeping in had a door connecting to the house and also one to the back of the house to get outside. If I walked through the house, the dogs will bark and wake everyone, but I was too scared to go outside in the dark where I can't see a foot in front of my face. I was not happy with my options and there was no way I could wait until morning. About to wet myself, I impulsively grabbed a bowl from one of the boxes and relieved myself. Midstream, it seemed like a brilliant idea but subsequently I stood there looking at a bowl of urine with no idea how to dispose of it. Panic set in and I decided it would be best to conceal it until morning. The moment the sun rose, I took it outside and poured it in the grass. This was also the precise moment I came to the executive decision that it was time to move on. I have lived on my own far too long to be at someone else's mercy 24 hours a day. I wish I could tell you that the story ends here. Remember I told you about the artist guy who was a friend of a friend? I lied, I met him at the train station. The town was not in my guide book and I walked around for a few hours trying to find a hostel or internet. I asked to use his iphone to find a hostel and he offered my a place to stay. At this moment you are saying to yourself how stupid I am and what a dangerous predicament I could have put myself in. Trust me when I tell you I could have wrestled his ass to the ground if need be. French men are not the most masculine.
When I was in Provence, I was in desperate need of a bikini wax. I wasn't sure what to ask for so I went into a place that was similar to Sephora with a spa upstairs. None of the women spoke English so they called over the security guard and had him translate. Awkward it was, this old man explaining different types of waxing to me. The woman did a great job but had her cellphone cradled between her shoulder and her ear yelling at her teenage daughter in french. It is amazing the quality of service when the tipping system is not used.
Twice I was offered a ride and both times it was like that of a carnival. The first time I was near the farm. I had blisters on every single one of my toes from the trek back and forth to town, so myself and two of the other wwoofers got a ride up the hill from a man who owned one of the neighboring farms. He had random eyebrow and nose hairs that were about two inches long. As he was driving us up the windy road in his rickety old hatch back that was barely holding the weight of us, he laughed the whole way and was pretty much telling us he was the psychopath of the town. That was hilarious actually but the second time was not so funny. I got out of a train station and trying to find my way but apparently I was interrupting the conversation of the women working behind the desk at the station. A man with two little boys insisted that I come with him and his family since they were going to the same exact place. I agreed with some reluctance and got in the car where his wife was waiting in the driver seat. She scanned me up and down with the look of death. She kept turning around while driving and leering at me the whole way with sheer anger in her gaze. She didn't speak any English and they yelled at each other profusely the entire way. He laughed and said "my wife is jealous". When we arrived at the destination I said thank you and jumped out of the car while still in motion.
Finally, so many men so little bullets! I love male energy and have some great men in my life but I'd like to bet the bullshit is the same around the world. I try not to make it obvious that I am a solo traveler by doing things like looking at a map for too long, but I am still a sitting duck sometimes no matter how hard I try. I've gotten very good at being direct with with these pathetic creatures who seek vulnerable women but it is still insanely annoying having my beloved solitude interrupted everyday. I could go on forever about relentless men with foot fetishes and fools with their paltry pick up strategies.
Getting rained on and walking around a strange place with a soaking wet map, sleeping in 10 person dorm rooms, long bus rides and carrying a 30 pound bag where ever I go is well worth it. I'm in Amsterdam as we speak, need I say more? What I have experienced thus far, I will never regret. I loved my clients and almost all of my coworkers in New York but my job was just not the place for me. So I remind myself that even when things are at their worst, it's still better than that godforsaken linear place and all is well.

Food Glorious Food

I have to say, France is living up to it's stereotypes in many ways. Everyone walking around with a baguette, watching the world from little cafes with coffee and hand rolled cigarettes, mercedes-benz taxis and lovers everywhere. In the past week I've been to Lyon and the great metropolis, Paris. I was pleasantly suprised with Lyon, a small but very charming city known for the food. My latest addiction is macarons, not to be confused with macaroons, the chocolate and coconut cookies. Macarons are meringue based with a thin egg shell-like exterior and a velvety creamy middle. They are delicate and airy and I love them so. I can't walk by a patisserie with out buying one of these delectable little confections. My favorites are lavender and raspberry. They are even sold at McDonalds here. I've been buying vegetables at the outdoor markets and making simple stirfries to balance my macaron love affair. The ice cream places beckon me with the word "glacier". I love that word on a hot sunny day. Just talking about glaciers in science class would make die of thirst. I am not normally an ice cream fiend but Europe has the creamiest ice cream and I cannnot deny it. Speculoos is another guilty pleasure of mine that I hope I can find in New York but then again maybe not. It is a biscuit spread thqt is a hybrid of peanut butter and nutella. Just a mere glance at the jar makes my mouth water. I also went to a sri lanka restaurant and the best chai tea I've ever had. It's actually really fun to order food and have no idea what willcome out of the kitchen. I think I shall do it more often.
I met another guy named Francois who was staying at the hostel in Lyon. He was new to the area and looking for an apartment, so I helped him find a place. It was really fun looking at all these old apartments and gave me an opportunity to see parts of the city I wouldn't have found on my own. Lyon is a great place to shop. If I were in the position, I could have some major damage there. Cheap english books are hard to come by, but I went to a bookstore while in Lyon and they had a little shelf with english books in the back. The universe practically put Dracula in my hands, it was only one euro and forty cents. I am not jumping on the vampire bandwagon, this book is phenominal and I can't put it down.
What can I say about Paris that hasn't already been said? I stayed with my friend Phillipe that I met while he was working in New York, it was really good to see a familiar face. He had to work so I went out and saw the sights on my own. I spent about four hours in the Louvre, but one could spend nearly two days. I saw the Mona Lisa, Venus and the crown of Louis XV to name a few. The Mona Lisa is a very powerful piece of art. It is the most famous painting in the world and you can feel that when approaching her. There are so many people gathered around to see the mysterious smirk. I feel so fortunate to have seen this enigma in person. I also went to Notre Dame, Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomph, Jardin du Luxembourg and Cimetiere du Pere Lachaise and they are all touristy for a reason. For when I saw the Eiffel Tower, I nearly wept. I laid in the grass and ate my baguette and fruit. I was in my glory. I also saw Jim Morrisons grave and Proust as well. It's a bit morbid but I love cemetaries and all the art work on the tombstones. I also found some hidden gems thanks to a local giving me advice. I found some lovely gardens, an oudoor roman theater and some other places most tourists don't have the opportunity to see. Paris has exceeded my expectations and I will surely return someday. Le monde est beau. Paris: Je t'aime.

Je m'appelle Gigí

The original plan was to stay at the farm for one month but I decided to leave in two weeks for several reasons. The main reason being that usually wwoofers work five hours a day and then have the rest of the day free and two days off. Our days were more like 12 and somehow you always end up working on your days off since the closest "town" if you can call it that is quite the expedition. It's probably the equivalent to a french version of a small town in Alabama. The townies look a little "off" if you catch my drift. It's possible most of them are related. The most ironic thing of all is that I had more privacy in New York than on the top of a mountain. I benefited very much from this experience, I learned new cooking techniques, saw puppies being born, tended to chickens, did some haircuts, met amazing people and lived amoung scenery that could be that of a fairy tale. It was very life changing, before this I thought Central Park was nature. Did you know if you turn your back to a rooster he will peck you? I saw him draw blood from one of the wwoofers. I also now know what a stinging nettle is. I grabbed one while pulling weeds in the garden and even the next day my hand had pins and needles and everything I touched felt like the stinging nettle plant. The washer is something I will surely not miss. Let me explain how one might use such a contraption: 1. place items of clothing in a large metal vessel with a latch across the top, 2. manually pour hot water, 3. let clothes wash for one hour, 4. srategically place each item of clothing in the spinner, a separate vessel with in the same machine. Note* if clothing is not completely balanced in the spinner the machine will have a violent fit and the whole process will have to be repeated. Madhu is very proud of this machine. She said "They don't make them this way anymore." I said, "yeah, I know, they make it all in one now." She didn't know what I was talking about and I found it best to end the conversation. On my downtime I read two books, The Kite Runner, a great book with a powerful story about redemption and another that one of the wwoofers lent me called Let's Talk About Kevin. I think I had some nightmeres about this novel about a New York City woman and her reluctant womb giving birth to a child that grows up and kills 7 people at his high school. I really loved the style of writing, but it was incredibly disturbing.
There was a couple from Montana staying at one of the guest houses, Amy and Todd who coincidentally go to the salon my ex-coworker in New York currently works at in Montana. We totally bonded being American and all. In the morning I told Madhu I was leaving and hitched a ride with Amy and Todd into town. Everyone was suprised when I told them I was leaving, but it's better to burn out than fade away.
I was feeling spontaneous so I took the next train leaving the station, which was to Montpellier. I called my friend in Paris who had an artist friend who had a flat in the center of town. This apartment had so much charachter, it was really beautiful. He ended up being a great host and showed me around town and made tapas and wine. Montpellier is a quiant little pedestrian friendly city. John Locke, the 17th century philospher wrote: "I find it much better to go twise to Montpellier than one to the other world". I wouldn't go that far, but it was a great little place. I didn't want to wear out my welcome so I walked around for a while the next day and then took a train to Toulouse. It's called "the pink city" because of all the rose-red brick buildings. It's a very youthful city with tons of great shops and cafes. Over the next two days, I walked for hours down the medieval streets, window shopped, people watched, and even got indian food. My body was craving rice and vegetables since I've been living off brie and baguettes for days now. I ordered my favorite, saag paneer. Turns out, they make indian food to satisfy the french palette using brie instead of paneer.
Next was a town called Aix-En-Provence, which is notorious for the famed impressionist Paul Cezanne. You can get a free map and do the Cezanne Trail and visit where he ate, drank, studied and painted. Included with the entrance to his house was a walking tour of the town, but the woman guiding it had a thick french accent and her tone of voice was similar to Julia Child, so I did my own walking tour of my own since I no longer have the patience to endure things that bring me no pleasure. He did his first masterpeices at age 20 right on the walls of his house and when the house was sold the paintings had to be cut from the wall. They show you where the paintings once exisited using projectors. I also went to his atelier, which was well preserved with all his things still inside including a few articles of clothing and items that are featured in many of his paintings, so needless to say, a strong presence of Cezanne is felt. He died in 1906 because he caught pneumonia from painting in the rain. I met a woman Mary from New Zealand who was also traveling alone and we went into a beautiful church where they were having mass and then to Musee Granet which is formermly the school where Cezanne learned to paint and houses nine of his paintings. Ironically, his most famous pieces are at the Barnes Foundation in Philadelphia. After the museum I went to the bus to begin my next endeavor and I met two guys, Francois and Sam who were going to a soccer parade in Marseille. They explained their elation was a result of Marseille winning the championship after ten years so I decided to check it out. All the fans sang songs at the top of their lungs and the players rode by on the top of a bus with their huge trophy. Even though I am not a fan of soccer, it was still exciting. Francois was cool but Sam was a creep and had major nose hair and talked with his mouth full. To get the crowd to dispurse the police uses tear gas on the crowd. Sam and the tear gas irritated me so much, I abruptly left them and went to the train. I felt bad because Francois as such a gentleman but as you can see, the reoccuring theme here is giving up when I don't like something. The old me had so much tenacity, I would suffer through anything. Why finish things you don't like? So you can say you did? Now that's just crazy.

This ain't no disco, and it ain't no country club either

For a couple of weeks in May I am staying at a farm in Amelie Les Bain in the Pyrenees in the south of France. The farm is www.fargassa.com and it is truly a wonderful place. There are 14 chickens, 2 cats, 2 dogs, a rabbit, 2 horses and 2 donkeys. The horses and donkeys are running wild through the mountains at the moment so I haven't had the opportunity to see them. One of the dogs gave birth to 8 puppies two days ago and they are so beautiful. It was my first time holding a day old puppy. They also grow berries, all types of greens and herbs, leeks, beets and many other things. First let me tell you about the journey here from San Sebastian. I was supposed to have a wakeup call the morning I left at 5:30am for a long day of traveling. The wakeup call never came but my old faithful internal alarm clock woke me up at 6:15, the precise time that I should have left. Nothing like waking up in a panic. I quickly dressed and brushed my teeth and speed walked to the train station to make this occur:

6:15am-left hostel for a 30 minute walk to the San Sebastian train station
6:45am-took the 45 minute train to Hendaye
7:35am-took the train from Hendaye to Toulouse(4hours)
2:50pm-took the train from Toulouse to Narbonne(1hour)
4:11pm-too the train from Narbonne to Perpignan(1hour)
then a 1 hour bus ride to Amelie Les Bain
then got a 20 minute ride to Fargassa from the bus stop

All this without speaking a word of French. There was a good possibility I would have a two hour uphill walk from Amelie Les Bain, but luckily Madhu, the woman who owns the farm was able to pick me up. She did however warn me that I might have to walk the two hours if she wasn't available when I arrived. I was just so greatful that I had a farm to go to. Fargassa ended up being a muse for me with the babbling brook and moss covered stones, it ended up being worth the arduous journey. The day starts with gentle yoga and meditation by Madhu herself then breakfast. I like the European lifestyle and work ethic very much.
Magic is happening in this kitchen everyday. We cook for 16-21 people everyday, I'm learning so much. There is a group of writers from Holland doing a workshop here and we make breakfast, lunch and dinner for them. We literally pick the greens from the garden and eat them in our salad immediately after. You can't get any closer to your food than that. When you walk through the garden you can practically hear the vegetables growing. Madhu sells her jams, chutneys and bread at the local market. I feel so fortunate to eat them everyday, they are so delicious. She has an 8 year old daughter named Roshant and speaks English, Dutch, German and French fluently. Mahdu studies Buddism and has been to India for her holiday for the past 6 years and takes Roshant with her.
However, not every moment has been bliss. I was given a caravan to sleep in my first night here. When it was shown to me, I had no idea that in my near future I would be running scared out of mind with my feet barely touching the ground back to the house. It was shown to me in broad daylight but in the pitch black darkness I could not find it for the life of me. I made 2 of the other wwoofers get out of bed to help me find it. When I say this place is in the woods, secluded is not the word. The closest "town", if you can call it that is a 2 hour walk or 20 minute drive. I had no idea people lived this far from civilization.
I've been reading and writing a ton. The farm has been very theraputic for me and I haven't spent one penny. The absence of tv and mainstream life can give you so much clarity. There are so may things in life that obstruct your view of what's really there. There are some things I will never get used to like limited warm water, tending to high maintenance chickens, having dirty fingernails and being in a drafty old house that is older than the United States itself. If Paris wasn't awaiting me soon after my perspective could be vastly different, but for now I will listen to French music, cook fresh organic food, bake bread and breath the fresh mountain air.

I left my heart in San Sebastian

My next adventure took place as a result of a suggestion from a guy in Barcelona about a small beach town on the west coast of Spain called San Sebastian. After 5 hours of quiant little towns, castles, fields of wildflowers and rolling hills of farmland, my train had arrived. Before this, scenery such as this only existed in my mind as a mere fantasy.
Unbenownst to me, I was pleasantly suprised to find that San Sebastian is a gastronomic paradise. The bars serve tapas called pinxos, which are a true art form. They are displayed on the bar and ready to eat along with sidra (cider), which is poured from a great height so it can aerate. You are given a plate and you take what you want and after you eat, using the honor system, you tell them how many you had. Brilliant. San Sebastian has more Michelin stars that Paris.
The hostel, also a suggestion is called Urban House. I was a little apprehensive at first, when I walked in the door the place was packed with everyone ready to go out for a pub crawl. I was escorted to the room where the girl showed me the bed I was to sleep in while simutaneously taking a pile of dirty sheets off it. It turns out that the place is so amazing that believe it or not it's very easy to overlook all the madness. There were a few quotes on the wall that I think are worth mentioning:
"and this is the corner where the bums and Italians piss" and "what's the word in English for when you touch something with the tip of your penis" Elin from Sweden and "she is my favorite girl because she has the biggest nuts"(reffering to her boobs) Christopher from Denmark
Those were my favorites. It's an anything goes type of joint so you have to take the good with the bad and in this case the good happened to be very good. The place is steps from the ocean and I step out to the balcony in the morning with my tea to the sound of a man playing accordian down below. The gregarious guy who runs the place, Rudy, encourages comradery between all the guests. Everyone in the hostel goes out together at night and we all connected so much and ended up being facebook friends. The guy puts sriracha in his coffee in the morning and cleans singing Celine Dion ballads. He knows all the hot spots for food and drinks in the neighborhood. One of his favorites is called Nestors. They only have a few things they serve, which are: a huge piece of rare steak that is split between 4-5 people, a large plate of heirloom tomatoes with olive oil and balsamic vinegar both seasoned with maldon salt.http://www.maldonsalt.co.uk/ You must try this stuff. It is un-fucking-real. They make ONLY two tortilla espanas at lunch if you are lucky enough to get a piece and also an expresso drink that is made with condensed milk, cinnamon and a secret liquor that no one know about except for Nestor himself. It is in his will though, so the secret will not die with him. It was fabulous but had me up all night. We also went to an anchovy bar that serves anchovy pinxos in any way you could imagine. My favorite was by far the coconut. Some of the best pinxos in my opinion were: roasted red pepper stuffed with crabmeat on a crostini, a battered and fried tomato slice topped with a sardine and I have to mention I had the best ice cream I think I ever had in my life. Rudy also took us to a bar that served cow cheek cooked for 12 hours, so tender it falls apart with a fork, crispy pig ear, and duck in prune sauce. I was in my glory. At the end of a meal, you take a sweet/licoricy liquor shot called pacharon to help digest your meal.
Besides eating, San Sabastian has so many things to do. I went on a few hikes, long walks on the beach, beautiful cathedrals, shopping and I also went kayaking to Isla de Santa Clara with a native named Gabriel. He is a teacher but takes people kayaking for a side job. He loves American music and asked a lot of questions about New York. Here is how a conversation went for example:
"Do you have beaches in Nueva York?"
"Yeah, New Jersey too."
"New Jersey? Bruce Springsteen is from there, do you know of him?"
"Of course." I said
"I love the music of Bruce...." as he's paddling and looking off the horizon.
He took the money I paid him and we went to get drinks with it, not a bad deal at all.
Although I am living my fairy tale, it is not all rainbows and unicorns all the time. I've had my fare share of obstacles. It's been a bit of a culture shock, not too bad but I don't speak fluent spanish and I can ony imagine what lies ahead for me in France as far as that goes. It is very expensive to wash your clothes so I learned that most travelers handwash their clothes and hang them on the balcony to dry. I'm used to the idea now. I was supposed to work on an organic vineyard in the south of France outside of Bordeaux. We exchanged a number of emails but days before I was to arrive, they said they were on vacation. OoOokaaaay. Throw a wrench into my life why don't you? So I freaked out for about a day and a half until I realized that being stuck here is really quite amazing and I need to just enjoy it, there are plenty of farms out there that would be happy to have me. I forget sometimes that the universe always wins.
I did some more haircuts here, which helped me tremendously with cash money records taking over for the 9-9 and 2000.

Barcelona, Montserrat and Figueres

I have started many blogs in the past only to delete them days later. I decided to write in journals and only for myself. Sometimes I destroy those too, but after four days in Barcelona, I have reconsidered. There is so much to tell it is imperative that I document it.
It hasn't yet been a week and my life has changed already. I've seen 3000 works of Picasso, learned how to make sangria and paella, saw Gaudi buildings in person, went to the Dali house in Figueres, hiked to the top of a mountain and did a few haircuts.
The city is bustling with conservative but stylish people, fascinating architecture and is food heaven. I've been living on jamon, which is cured meat on a baguette accompanied by fresh fruit. I have to keep reminding myself that I'm in Spain and not NY. Running from one subway to the next and trying to squeeze everything into one day can make you forget. The metro system bere is so practical. For one, it comes every THREE minutes and has a digital clock to tell you so simliar to the L train in NY. Cellphones work on the train even though its underground and there's no crackheads singing du-wop songs for money. I have to say the people in Barcelona are pretty civilized. I also noticed people are in pretty good shape, I don't see too many unhealthy looking people. Why is it that the trashy people here don't look nearly as bad as the trashy people in the states I wonder. Not too many people have ipods or read on the train but I'm thinking because it's so much faster than NY. Castilian is the language spoken here but my spanglish is getting me around just fine. The streets are not marked well at all. They are tiny little signs on the sides of the buildings and I have to walk up close to even see what it says. This city is so big and very confusing with lots of tiny little streets, streets that turn into other streets, and windy roads. Barcelona is known for pick pockets but luckily I had no issues with that. April 23rd is a holiday in some countries encase you didn't know. It's Saint Georges Day and the tradition is that the girls get roses from the guys and the guys get books from the girls. It's also declared the international day of the book because its the same day Shakespeare died.
I stayed at Mellow Hostel which was incidently nothing but mellow. I didn't sleep a wink on the red eye here or the two nights following. Turns out it's a major party spot. The directions from the website added two extra forms of transportation than necessary and also had the wrong address that sent me to some little old lady's house. It had a big gate in front of it so I rang the bell and she came out and was very nice about sending me in the right direction. What a debaucle. It was a beautiful and very clean place and the staff was very accomodating. To give you an idea of the location, just think of staying in Flushing Queens and needing to go downtown Manhattan everyday. No wait, add very steep hills with winding roads and add 163 stairs to that. That's not a typo, there was 163, I counted them. They have the internet but you have to pay, I probably spent 20 euros on that computer, I lost count. So lessons learned on choosing a hostel are, location, location, location! Ear plugs if you want to sleep and free internet is a must.
Lets talk about art. Between Gaudi, Dali and Picasso my mind has been blown. Sangrada de Familia was started by Antoni Gaudi, a devout catholic who's work referenced nature and christianity. It is a masterpiece and when I saw it, my heart literally swelled. No picture could possibly capture the effect of seeing it in person. Construction started in 1882 and will possibly be completed in 2020. It was great to see the progression of Picasso's work throughout his life. His earlier work really showed his technical talent and the later abstract work showed his creativity but the work in between looked really half ass, like he was bored and couldn't think of anything better to do, like his ceramic work for example. What really struck a chord with me was Dali. His work was so diverse. Each collection was completely different than the former. Saying that he though outside the box is an understatement, he used color, texture and shape like I have never seen before. It was totally worth the two hour train ride each way to Figueres to witness it. I also went to the Museo Nacional d'art Catalunya. I took a lot of picture but they could never live up to the real thing in front of you. There was walls of a church the dated from the 1200's. It's hard to wrap your head around that! The whole section of gothic art was closed due to restoration work which was dissappointing but I saw so much I really can't complain. Close by the museum was Parc Montjuic, the Barcelona version of central park. I could have walked through it all day but I didn't have time since I was trying to see so many things in a day. What the hell is time anyway. I realized that when looking at the art, I would walk right up to the plaque and read the information on who the artist was, but towards the end I realized I could appreciate it so much more when looking from a distance. It fills your soul when you take it all in at once and the perspective is so much better. Similar to having an ocean between your old life and new one.
As soon as I got off the plane, I met a Canadian girl also traveling alone named Teryn. We ended up taking an hour train ride up to Montserrat, which means serrated mountain, and hiked to the top of a 1236m mountain to get to the monastery. It was founded in 1025 after a Virgin Mary statue was found there. It became a holy site and people line up to kiss the feet of the statue. The hike was much steeper than we anticipated and we weren't prepared with food or water but we made it to the top! Where my cured meat and baguette were waiting for me. Of course it's a tourist trap at the top. We also took a walk on the beach later that day and there was people doing elaborate sculptures out of sand. Very cool. Unfortunately Teryn and I parted ways because she's taking a quick trip to Switzerland before doing a 900km pilgrimmage through Spain and France and y'all think I'm crazy! I was sad to say goodbye to my little buddy, I think I met my match as far as guy stories go. She might even have me beat.
I took a cooking class for 18 euros that was well worth the money. They gave us tortilla espana with monchego cheese and olives and toast with jamon and a spread made from crushed tomatoes and garlic while we waited. The chef showed us the traditional way to make paella and the bartender showed us how to make sangria. There were 5 of us in the group and we had a feast.
An Estonian girl was talking to me in the bathroom at about midnight on Friday night and I ended up cutting her and her friends hair. They gave me 25 euros and I really enjoyed doing it. There was a big group of them and they all wanted haircuts but were going out to a club that night. I was a big hit since I came from NY and all. Another note on beauty, I started threading my own lip. I usually wax but I watched a video on youtube before I left and I'm actually starting to get the hang of it. Either that or I walk around with a mustache.

taking the bull by the horns