Hablas Espanol?
May 05, 2003 - 5:01 pm
I think it's about time that I talked about my recent travel excursions.
I will start with my day trip to Stratford Upon Avon. I went by myself to Stratford on April 26. It was the day of Shakespeare's birthday celebration. I mostly went just to walk around and pay homage to my beloved William. I had an unbelievably great time. I took a bus (which took forever to get there), and I arrived around noon. I walked around town enjoying all of the street performers dressed up in Elizabethan wardrobe. They were singing and dancing (some were doing improv acting). It was really neat. I decided to go to the house where William was born since I hadn't done that last time. The house was where Shakespeare lived in as well. It was so old and so adorable. There was a very bright garden outside of the home too. It was beautiful. I bought some take-away and found a spot in the grass to eat lunch and enjoy some more street performing. After that I went to the Holy Trinity Church to view William's grave (again). It was adorned with about a million fragrant flowers. Very nice. The rest of my day was spent in gift shops, spending TOO much money. I found the most incredible poster. It had the entire play of 'Romeo and Juliet' written out. It was so expensive, but I bought it anyways. I bought a bunch of other little things as well. In one of the gift shops there was a stand where you could trace your family name's roots. I have always wondered where the 'Fleetwood' name came from. It seems like every one of my friends is ethnic in some way or another, and I never could tell anyone what decent I was from. I was just American (or more specifically, Iowan). I know that somewhere in the past the Fleetwoods came from somewhere, so I went over to stand to look up my name. It turns out that the 'Fleetwood' name was pretty popular in England. My name originated here in England in the 16th century and the first Fleetwoods that came to America immigrated into Virginia (later to Kentucky and so on) in the 1800s. My dad's name, Churchill, is also English. Therefore, my roots are completely from England. So, there you have it. I'm English. =) (not really, but that's where it all started). The Fleetwood name even has its own crest of arms, a registered symbol of status. Very nice. Oh, I almost forgot. The ducks were simply adorable, so I went to a grocery store and bought a package of hamburger buns. I spent quite a while just feeding them. There were so many! I think I took about a million pictures of just ducks!
After Stratford I finished up my last paper for my Shakespeare class, and then I flew to Spain on Wednesday morning. I'm getting a little ahead of myself though, because I had to fly out of Stansted airport. Stansted is about 1 and a half hours away. I took a bus and got to the airport way too early. Better early than late though. I called my mom from a pay phone, gave her that phone's number, and she called me back. We talked a little to waste some time. I ended up finding a seat and reading my book. There was a woman sitting next to me who shared my annoyance with the guy tapping his foot to our left. We started a conversation about books. She was reading one of the 'Shopaholic' books by Sophie Kinsella. I was reading a book called 'Straight Talking' by Jane Green. She liked Jane Green. I like Sophie Kinsella. I have read all of Kinsella's books, except the one this woman was reading. She ended up giving me the book before she boarded her plain. Nice lady.
I finally boarded. I was flying through Ryanair, and I was a little nervous that the plane would be awful (since I'd gotten my flight so cheap). It was fine though. The flight was about 2 hours. It was the first two hours of sleep I'd had all night. I flew into Girona, Spain, took a bus to Barcelona, quickly figured out where I was at in Barcelona, figured out the metro (subway) system, and walked to my hostal (cheap student boarding house place). I stayed at a hostal called Barcelona Mar (which translates into Barcelona Sea). My room was still being cleaned, so I had to wait in the lobby. Finally, I went to my room, which contained about 9 other beds. Each bed was in its own cubicle-like space. It was about 12:30 when I got settled, so I decided to take a small nap since I was so tired. I got up around 2:30 to do some sight-seeing. I walked up and down La Rambla (a popular, touristy street in Barcelona). There were really neat street performers. I shopped around in some souvenir shops, then I walked down to the shore of the Mediterranian Sea, and saw the statue of Christopher Columbus (pointing towards America). I decided to have lunch at McDonalds, since I was on a limited budget. The menu was in Spanish, the cashiers only spoke Spanish. I was brilliant!!! Not only did I understand everything on the menu, but I ordered in Spanish, and the cashier knew exactly what I said (which means my spanish wasn't too awful). They serve beer at the McDonalds there. It was on the menu and everything. Rather peculiar if you ask me. After that I decided to walk over to the main post office. Barcelona is SUCH a beautiful city, just walking to the post office was incredible. The clerk at the post office didn't speak English, which through me off a little. I wasn't prepared to ask for air mail, postcard stamps to the USA. So I had to wing it. So I said: Necesito comprar ocho sellos de tarjetas enviar para los Estados Unidos. That isn't entirely correct, I know, but the guy knew what I needed. I had to think fast and that was all I could come up with. It roughly translates into: I need to buy 8 postcard stamps to send to the United States. It was sufficient. I walked back to La Rambla, got something to drink from a cute cafe and sat at one of the tables on the street. I wrote out a postcard to my high school spanish teacher, Victoria Guilliatt. I wanted to talk to her badly the whole time I was in Barcelona, to tell her how I'd found a new love for the spanish language and to thank her for all those years of it in high school. Mrs. Guilliatt and I had a wonderful relationship, we still do. This past summer when she came to my benefit, it was the first time I had seen her since I had discovered the brain tumor. She just came up to me and gave me a hug, and when she pulled away she just looked at me and she started crying. She was really upset by the news, and she was worried. It was probably the moment I realized how much she meant to me. Anyways...back to Barcelona.
After having a refresco pequeno, I went back to my hostal, called my mom and told her that I was having the time of my life and that I was wishing I studied in Spain this semester instead of in England. She couldn't talk long because she was at work. So I called my aunt Bonnie, and talked to her for a little while. I wanted to talk to my grandma, but she wasn't home, so I told Bonnie I'd call again later. I wanted to go out for una cerveza (beer), but since I was all alone, I didn't trust myself being tipsy in such a foreign area. The hostal was in the middle of an alley too, and there were a bunch of sketchy people walking around outside. Therefore, I stayed in the rest of the night. I called my grandma later, had a wonderful conversation (as always), and then went to sleep. The people in my room were so loud though! A couple men were snoring loudly, others were talking in normal tones, others kept coming in and out of the room at all hours of the night. Very noisy! I didn't get much sleep. I got up the next morning at around 8 am, had breakfast that the hostal provided, checked out, hopped on the metro, and ended up at the Sagrada Familia (a famous cathedral). I took some pictures, got back on the metro, ended up close to La Rambla again. I bought some souvenirs, then called my mom and Duane. They were just getting up for work (it was around 4:30 am back in Iowa). Mom couldn't talk long, since she had to go to work, but I talked to Duane longer than I normally do. =) After I hung up the phone, I walked up La Rambla and immediately realized something was wrong. My camera was gone! It wasn't in my pocket anymore. It wasn't in my bag. I literally ran back to the phone booth to see if I'd left it sitting on top or in front of it. Not there. I went back to the souvenir shop to see if I had left it on the counter. Not there. I checked my bag about a million times. Not there! Someone had stolen my camera! I was completely depressed. It was the camera my grandma had bought me for college. It had all of Barcelona pictures on it. I wanted to go back to the airport, change my flight, and leave right that second. I sulked around for about two hours. Then I realized that it wasn't the end of the world. They didn't steal my passport or my wallet. I would have really been screwed then. So, I immediately bought a disposable camera, retraced my steps to retake the pictures, and saw a few new things, like the Barcelona Cathedral. I was going to go to a few museums (even though I hate museums, but I didn't have time). It was time for me to catch my bus back to the airport. I went back to the place where the bus dropped me off. Funny thing happened. The bus schedule that was there the day before was gone. I was a little confused. I was definitely in the right area, but I wasn't sure exactly which bus stop I was supposed to be at. I called Bonnie to vent a little, and she told me to calm down and ask someone. I had planned on doing that anyways. I asked the clerk at a small bakery. He gave me the wrong directions. I asked a guy in a bar, he pointed to the bus stop I was supposed to be at. I sat there for a while, but it didn't feel right. No one else was there. This little old man sat down, so I asked him if I was at the right stop. He said no, and then told me where to go. I felt like such an idiot when I finally got to the right place, because it was just one more street down, and the bus schedule was definitely at this stop. It's just that all of the stops looked identical. I made it though. Girona airport is so incredibly tiny. There was only two payphones in the entire airport, neither of which accepted my phonecard. I was supposed to call Bonnie back to let her know I made it ok. Ooops. Finally boarded. Made it back to London just fine. I was so tired, so I had no trouble sleeping that night!
Next day was another day trip to Stratford Upon Avon with Christina and Kelly. I will write about that in another post later though. This one is long enough.
