barcelona, te amo

So, I’ve had a total of 6 hours of sleep in the last 3 days; Barcelona has defeated me. A group of us left the ship at 3:45am on Thursday, arrived in Barcelona at 9am, and hit the ground running. Honestly, the first day is now kind of a blur because it seemed like a never-ending string of events… I just know that at some point of the day, we saw all the tourist-y things you’re supposed to see (La Sagrada Familia, Gaudi architecture, etc.), minus the Picasso Museum and Park Guell (which I saw the next day). But that’s the boring stuff. Everything that’s worth mentioning occurred after dinner on both days, although I guess one could argue that that’s the case for most days, anywhere.

For dinner on our first night, we went to see a flamenco show, which was, in a nutshell, fantastic. Afterwards a group of us brought some drinks back to the hotel to hang around for a few hours, because in Spain, they don’t party until midnight or later… So, we’re all piled into one room, and we may or may not have been a little too loud, because our next door neighbor comes by and kind of hints to us that it’s getting late and that he’s sleeping soon because he has an early flight the next day. We learn that his name is Henry, he’s 30, and a DEA officer from Germany… and then we get him to have drinks with us… and then he proceeds to go to the bars and clubs with us for the remainder of the night. Now, to preface the rest of this story, there was a group of 16ish of us, and Henry didn’t really seem like a creeper. Until 3 hours later when he tells my friend that they should go back to the hotel and drink together in her room; or 4 hours later when he decides to have happy hands while trying to whisper (German?) in my ear. Yeah, suffice to say, Henry got ‘accidentally’ left at the last club we went to. Hope he made it back to the Deutschland on time, wouldn’t want the Germans to lose out on such an outstanding officer of the law.

Anyway, I would finish the Barcelona trip update right now, but there’s two more days to fill in, and I have two papers to write, so expect it sometime before Italy (hopefully?)!
Oh, yeah. Italy in 3 days. Hell yes.

Update:
Our second day was our free day to do whatever we wanted, so a small group of us decided to just run around and see as much of Barcelona as possible; fútbol stadium, Picasso, the Park, and a ridiculous amount of time on their transit system (which is WAY cleaner and nicer than the ones in the U.S… but you have to constantly make sure no one is trying to jack your shit, so it’s not that great). Because our trip was through semester at sea, and they kind of messed up on the hotel situation, we stayed at Hotel Melia, a 5 star hotel in the city. Shit was absurd; I didn’t find time to sleep, but I sure as hell found time to take a legit bath. Every time I shower on the ship, I feel like Will Farrel in Elf; so bogus.
But anyway, a dozen of us went to dinner out on Port Olympic, which was, by far, the best meal I had in Spain. The only weird thing was the fact that street vendors/sellers of crap things kept on coming around and trying to get us to buy their junk; one of the guys got bamboozled into buying roses for all the girls at the table because the guy wouldn’t leave him/kept on calling him names. It was actually kind of funny.
And, again, since the nightlife doesn’t even begin until midnight, after dinner, we went to the market, bought wine and liquor, and sat out on the beach that overlooks the strip of clubs and hung out/waited for things to actually wake up.
Occurrences of the night, in no particular order… because at some point, I ceased to remember the logical string of events (stupid), so I’d be lying if I tried:
- Two words: ICE BAR. Well, one word, really: IceBarcelona.
- Looking at my leg after my friend pointed it out, and seeing a flippin’ river of blood pouring out of my knee
- So, I guess ‘falling down’ would a reasonable event to add to the list (except I don’t remember it happening, and no one remembers seeing, so I’m not even sure how to explain the situation)
- Running into a billion other semester at sea kids at a rando club called Opium
- Saying ‘Razzmatazz’ over and over again because someone else wanted to go there (it’s another club that’s 5 stories tall and is actually like 6 clubs in one; so sick), and apparently, I thought it was a sweet word to just start repeating?
- Getting back to the hotel room at 4am, and seeing my roommate for the trip passed out on the bed with Spice Girls in Spanish playing on the T.V.
- Apologizing profusely to some Europeans about the death of Michael Jackson. They love him over here like a fat kid loves cake.

Day 3 (I know, Barcelona seems to be never ending; bear with me), we had to check out of our rooms by 9am and go to the wine cellar that is the official provider of wine and cava to the Spanish royal family; such a hard life. Except, it was kind of difficult, because at this point, I was running on about 3 hours of sleep, woke up still feeling retarded, and didn’t have enough time to grab any food or water. So, long story short, I had champagne, and a cracker for breakfast. My sweat smelled like red wine.

We then went to one of the oldest monasteries in Spain on top of a mountain for lunch and to sightsee. But, before I go into detail about this, let me go off on a tangent really quickly and ask, why did semester at sea think it was a good idea to schedule a wine tasting at 11am? And more importantly, who thought it was a good idea to go straight from a vineyard to an effing monastery? I felt like everything I was doing there was sacrilegious. The mixture of dehydration, sleep depravation, altitude, and bottles of alcohol was a killer.
We didn’t get back to Cadiz until about 9:30pm that night, even though port time was officially 5pm. When I saw the ship for the first time in 4 days, I’m pretty sure I now know how Muslims feel when they go to Mecca; I was so ready to crash and sleep for the next three days until we docked in Italy... and then I remembered we have classes. Ugh.

cabin fever y cadiz

We seem to have crossed over some invisible line of demarcation that separated the 'shitty waters and tempests' in which we were previously sailing, into the ‘pleasant seas and sunny skies’ area, which I hope is never ending. Great news, because the anticipation is over (you guys have no idea how long everyone has been waiting to just see the sun), but bad news bears for my (already lacking) studies. I brought a book out on deck to read today… I was outside for four hours… I got from page 23 to page 27. I did, however, find out the enormous amounts of boatcest that’s going on right now (obviously the far more interesting and important matter). I mean, I figured it was bound to happen, it’s a flippin’ floating mattress with nothing but locked doors, so I don’t think it would take a genius to realize (who)what 700 teenagers are willing to do, but I didn’t think it was going to take three days. Seriously, ladies, can we keep our vaginas in our pants until at least we’ve docked at the first port?

Whoever said that semester at sea academia is a no big deal, obviously took classes pass/fail. I have two papers and a midterm next week. Well, maybe I’m being a little melodramatic, one of the papers is kind of a joke (2 pages double-spaced. Really?) and the midterm is in a class covering topics that I took when I was a freshman in high school, but I mean, work is work… plus, direct credit transfer means my GPA is affected regardless. Kind of bogus. But that doesn’t even matter, because at the moment, I’m in Spain, sitting in an outdoor internet café, sipping on jack and coke, watching Los Estadios Unidos beat the crap out of España in fútbol; 2-0 is a beautiful thing to see. However, the Spaniards weren’t so receptive to the sound of crazy drunk college kids screaming “LOS ESTADOS UNIDOS SON MEJORES!”
So today, I got to explore Cadiz with my first SAS friend that I met on the plane. Background story about this city: super old port town in Spain that used to be rich, but now not so much; fun fact, it’s actually where Christopher Columbus sailed from when he stumbled upon the Americas. Random happenings/things I’ve learned while I’ve been here:

- An old Englishman from Davonshire named Colin Gibson (picture) is in Spain with his wife for a few days. He’s originally from Plymouth, which is also where Sir Francis Drake was from, and in the 1600s Drake fire-bombed the Spanish Armada in the Port of Cadiz. You might be asking yourself why you’re reading this, because it’s relevant to no one, and therefore, no one really needs to know this. And if you feel this way, then welcome to my life, fifteen minutes into the conversation that I was having with this man. All I did was say ‘hello,’ which may have been followed by ‘how are you?’ Mistake. Don’t ask open-ended questions.
- 6 pitchers of sangria in a day more detrimental to your health than you might originally think.
- Playing the piano, alone, when you’re drunk is no fun.; having your drunk friend try to play The Phantom of the Opera for you while he’s drunk and making up words is way better.
- They only serve good food on the boat on days when you’re not even on it
- Topless beaches... I'm pretty sure it's just a European excuse to screw in public

i signed up for a boat, not a submarine

The captain told us the other day that we should be pleased with ourselves because this ship was built/designed specifically to go around the Mediterranean (it’s super small and really fast… that’s what she said), so we get to see it perform its intended purpose. I agree, and I think it will be pretty cool… when we get there. Right now, however, we might as well be in a canoe. I don’t think the engineers that designed this thing took into consideration that it may have to trek its tiny ass across the Atlantic’s rough waters before it reaches the calm sea to complete “it’s intended purpose.” The horizon bobs up and down a good 20 feet through the windows; I feel like I’m on a bad roller coaster ride that no one is allowed to get off of… plus, my cabin is in the front of the boat, which definitely feels everything the roughest, always.

Anyway, I’m not going to talk about it anymore, because there’s no point complaining about trivial things, so, I’ll debrief you guys on how life on the ship has been/will be until we go ashore in Cadiz. My living situation is kind of weird because we have a quad (4 bed room, but it’s the size of a coat closet… ok, maybe 2 coat closets, and I’m not even exaggerating at this point), but one of the girls never showed up, so technically we’re now in a triple? Either way, it doesn’t matter; it just translates to not enough space for anyone, at any time. Ever.
The two girls that did show up alright; we kind of just inhabit the same space, so it's no worries, I suppose. I can’t say I’m all that surprised that I didn’t become, like, best friends with my roommates; can’t win ‘em all, and I’m pretty sure I used up all of my ‘amazing roommates’ allotment for the last two years of college. But, basically, that just means I’m literally only ever in my cabin to sleep (which might actually attribute to why my roommates hate me, I’m the first one up and last one back, so I’m constantly waking everyone up…. Whoops?)

Starting last night, the ship has Pub Night for every day we’re at sea, as long as we’re not docking the next day (hungover students stomping all over Europe wasn’t what they were aiming for). Last night was fine because the weather was amazingly calm and warm, but I’m pretty sure tonight is going to be a shitshow; I can’t walk in a straight line as it is because the boat is doing backflips in this storm, so I can’t even begin to imagine what’s going to happen with 700 tipsy students.

As for the classes, I actually really enjoy mine: International Ethics and Human Rights, Greek Philosophy, and Global Studies. BUT, today is only day 2 of classes, and I’m ridiculously behind on reading, already fell asleep in a class, and lost my philosophy book. I’ve decided I’m rubbish at this school thing.

Best sign of the day: “due to someone put cheese in the toaster, now it is out of order”

what the fuck are sea legs, and why don't i have a pair yet?

I have never seen so many pissed off girls crowded around a big bin of confiscated hair straighteners before in my life… apparently, port security seizes all dryers and straighteners that are not auto-shut-off (I’m not really sure how one would go about confirming that, though) before you’re allowed to board a ship; who knew.

Fun facts that I’ve learned on my first day on the M.V. Explorer:
- 7,000 condoms were handed out during the last voyage
- Every person that’s from a school in California goes to a “San” something, and you will never be able to differentiate any of them
- Knowing the difference between port and starboard doesn’t even kind of matter when you can’t make it to either side to puke your brains out (but thankfully, this isn’t firsthand experience)
- Granola tastes way better going down, compared to going up (quite unfortunately, this is firsthand)
- Running on a treadmill, on a boat, in the middle of a storm is quite possibly the worst idea in the history of mankind
- Meeting 700 new names and faces means that reintroducing yourself to the same person three times makes you look like a jackass (but you can’t very well say that the reason for this is because they have very undistinguishing features)
Classes start Thursday; this is most certainly not a cruise.

oh canada!

What would you do if you were alone, your flight to a foreign country was three and a half hours delayed, making you land at 2am in B.F.E., and all shuttles and taxis to your hotel stop servicing at 12:30am? Well, I’m not sure what you would do, but what I did was hop into a car with three strangers, that I spoke briefly with while waiting in JFK, and somehow, miraculously, making it to my hotel, 30 minutes away, anyway. Sometimes, it pays to be a tree-talker.

Turns out though, it didn’t really matter what time I got into Halifax, because anything important in that city can be seen and done in one day flat. For a country that is crap at war, they have kind of an intense militaristic history; the Citadel is kind of out-of-character for what I perceived Canada to be. They do, however, and this did not shock me, have a shit-ton of bars and clubs, most of which the 741 kids on semester at sea mobbed at some point during the night. Instead of going with the crowd (when do I ever, though), this kid that sat next to me on the plane, who also happened to be an SAS-er, and I befriended some locals who just so happened to be turning 19 (it’s the drinking age there, so imagine a 21st birthday party, but Canadian style), went bar-hopping with them, sang karaoke, hung out at one of their lofts, and got free drinks, shots, food, and weed. Gotta love that Canadian hospitality, but gotta hate that ‘wake-up-after-three hours-of-sleep-still-drunk-and-pack-for-three-months’ feeling.
Anyway, and I never thought I’d be saying this, so I might only ever admit it once, but…. I LOVE CANADIANS.

hello new york, you're spectacular. what else is new?

If I went into detail about every place/thing I’ve experienced in the two and a half days that I’ve been in New York, this would be an absurdly lengthy post, so I’ll refrain (but only slightly because this place deserves that much talk), but, let’s just say I had an amazing tour guide, who, consequently, happens to be a pretty baller hostess as well.

I flew into JFK Thursday night, mainly without a hitch… excluding the level orange ‘high risk of terrorist attack’ threat, getting threatened by TSA guards, and being accosted by an unregistered taxi driver… apparently, and it would have been nice to know this ahead of time, once you walk out of JFK from baggage claim, you should definitely proceed directly to the row of shiny yellow cabs and just pick one. You go to them, they should not approach you. However, in the event that you're an idiot, and there's a guy waiting by the door asking if you need a cab, and you say 'yes' (in my defense, I was just answering a simple question), you should not simply allow him to take your luggage as he tells you to follow him to his vehicle. Also, once you have seen said vehicle, and it's a silver jeep with tinted windows and not a yellow taxi, you should really just ask for your bags back. But, if you all of the sudden realize how stupid you are too little too late (ie. now that your bags are already in his trunk), I guess you should just do what I did... and ask to sit in the front seat. I figured if shit was going down, I'm stabbing the fucker in the leg, no question. But, like I said, nothing terrible happened, so crisis averted.

Friday, I got to explore all over God’s green earth on my own until about 2pm, so I was able to see the main parts of lower Manhattan, but the standout experience of the day was definitely the Bodies Exhibit… so.freaking.amazing. It’s basically a huge warehouse-turned-museum that houses large amounts of factoids about the human body, accompanied by a ton of cadavers and parts for effect. Useless information [+] kind of gross and gory exhibit [=] I’m enthralled for hours (where else would I learn the fact that there’s a tiny bone in the face that is connected to every single other bone on the skull?).

Some other noteworthy events of Friday:

- exploring Soho, Wall Street, and the seaport

- taking the subway for the first time, but second time because I suck at life (got a MetroCard single use pass, accidentally turned the bar the wrong way, and subsequently got locked out. second time around was more successful.)

- dinner at the Yale Club
- faceplanting at the Yale Club. three times. no need to go into detail.
- first legit taxi ride, complete with nonstop horn honking

So I’m about to sound like a complete nerd for the remainder of this post, but I’m not really worried about it, so I guess people are just going to have to deal. The morning consisted of roaming through a bookstore, or, rather, THE bookstore, because Strand is world renowned… if you’ve been in, you understand why; followed by a visit to the Union Square Market, where the greatest blueberry and ginger jam in existence is sold. Seriously.
Anywho, I’m kind of an art history/architecture dork (and if you didn’t know that about me, then you definitely don’t know me well enough to be reading this, haha), so, in a nutshell, Guggenheim, The Met, time square/Time Warner Center, Columbus Circle… obviously, I found Saturday to be ridiculously wondrous.
We wrapped up the day with dinner at Katz’s Deli (it’s where Harry met Sally), because living in the lower east side means you can walk anywhere. Heavy-ass dinner, followed by the Best Brunch in New York (Sarabeth’s) means I left New York never wanting to eat another thing again in my life. I love New York… but not enough to own that lame-o t-shirt.
Onward to Halifax!

good-bye virginia!

I'm off to New York today! Basically, for the first stop of the summer, I'm staying for 4 days with one of my amazing roommates from last year, Liz, and I could not be more excited. I figured it would make sense to post something before I embark on this little adventure, considering I've written NOTHING in the last month; let's just say 'I've been really busy' and disregard the 'I've also been really lazy' factor.

Anywho, I'm pretty terrible with good-byes, so if I didn't get a chance to see you before I left, I'm so sorry. I tried, but, clearly, there was no way seeing everyone was going to happen.

However, I from the people I did get to see recently, I received some pearls of "wisdom," ranging from the standard, obligatory parting remarks to the semi-frightening, 'why would you bring that up right before I go' type comments. For example:

1. "Be safe." Well, obviously.

2. "Don't do anything stupid." But then they followed that up with 'don't do anything I wouldn't do,' which, turns out, are two very different requests, because the person in question, I would argue, does plenty of stupid things on a regular basis...

3. "Don't die." Wasn't planning on it?

4. "Don't get kicked off the ship for cheating."

5. "Don't get drunk and then fall off the boat; I hear this happens way more often than they let you believe." Um... I'll try not to?

6. "Don't be the girl from Taken; she was a dumbass." No worries there, she was a dumbass; I have no desire to emulate her actions.

7. "Keep a running tally of how many times people say 'I'm on a boat!' this summer." This is my personal favorite.

The interesting thing about this list is that these were just the reoccurring pieces of advice; more than one person said most of these things in one form or another, which leads me to question: why does everyone think I'm going to fall off of a fucking boat?