Did you know that they have seats called business class, that aren't as expensive as first class, but you can recline? I asked J how much those seats cost. He said he didn't even quote it. I may have given him the stink eye in between my small naps, as I tried to sleep on my 9 hour flight over the ocean, hunched over like a 105 year old grandmother.
Spain has tapas, which is basically a snack before dinner. It's nice because you can order a smaller, cheaper serving of multiple items and try different things. Dinner isn't until 10:00 at night. And then everyone stays up late, having had a little siesta in the middle of the day.
All three hotels had double beds. Because J thought a "double room" was for two people. He has to sleep wrapped around me - I call it The Octopus - so he got to sleep on the crack between the beds. We were able to change rooms at the second hotel and get a ridiculously large bed. But the lady was so confused and it took awhile to explain, so we didn't bother with the third hotel.
We couldn't get the lights to turn on in our hotel room. Turns out you have to put your room key (or really anything the right size, we later discovered) into a slot in the wall. When you remove it, the electricity turns off. It happened in all three hotels.
J and I tried speaking in our rudimentary Spanish. Almost everyone (except the taxi drivers, curiously enough) spoke English, so they mostly humored us but then responded in English. When people did speak Spanish to us, we just looked at them blankly. They figured it out and switched to English.
Lesson learned: When taking the Renfe speed train from city to city, book your tickets in advance. We couldn't get from Barcelona to Seville. The website is also ridiculous - it doesn't tell you if the train is booked until you're three pages into reserving the ticket. The first hotel's internet was ridiculously slow, which didn't help nerves at all. Luckily, J was able to book us tickets to Madrid, and then another train to Seville. Before our trip we had bought a special package that offered 4 rides in a package at a discount. We only needed three, but it was cheaper than buying three individually. So we ended up using all 4 and only lost a few hours.
We had 20 minutes to catch the next train in Madrid. I thought we would be fine but J was nervous. He asked someone at information about it. She widened her eyes and gave a very worried look. J tried to push the next train back but couldn't, because the later trains were already full. Luckily, our train came in 7 minutes early, and then we speed walked, and made it with 10 minutes to spare.
People who walk slowly and take up all the aisles are on my List.
We met up with Cody and Raquel in Seville. They had stopped by Paris, so Seville was their first Spain experience.
Lesson learned: When you buy your electrical outlet converter, make sure it has that third hole at the bottom for electronics. Ours did not. Luckily we were able to find one, but there may have been a small moment of panic. J had some work he needed to do and you can't do that with a dead laptop.
Also, bring one of those outlet extension things so you can charge both cell phones at the same time. Not an extension cord, but the thing that gives you multiple outlets.
Our hotel in Seville was a bit out of the way. We walked until our blisters started developing blisters. The taxis weren't expensive, but that's usually because we only needed to go a few miles. The hotel (and the rest of the city) had bikes for rent, which ended up being an excellent idea when we went to the supermercado.
No one wanted to drag 10 pounds of water home.
When I was at the train station, a lady called to get my attention and started gesturing that I had dropped something. Because I am neurotic, I had googled all of the pick-pocket schemes, and this was one. I clutched my bag and looked around for her accomplice. Turned out I really had dropped something - my plane ticket. Which I no longer needed, but it was very nice of her to return it.
When I catch a stranger's eye, I smile. I didn't really notice it until I was in Spain and absolutely no one smiled back. I was discussing this with one of the guys from the conference while in Spain, and said I didn't think they were intentionally rude, because the cashiers and waiters were more than happy to chat and were friendly. I thought it was just the culture. That person agreed, and said I was probably creeping people out by smiling at them.
There were nude people and topless women at the beach. It was hard not to sneak a peek. There was one naked man in particular who was standing up in his full glory, looking up and down the beach. I would glance over (NOT checking him out, just looking around people-watching) but he would catch my eye. It was awkward. It happened three times. Finally I closed my eyes.
Some things can't be unseen.
J doesn't burn. He just turns a lovely shade of brown. Lucky jerk. I have to apply sunscreen otherwise I turn a shade of lobster red.
San Juan is a really big holiday in Spain. We had no clue. The museums and things we wanted to check out that day were closed, so we had to change our plans a bit. We had been wondering why people had been shooting loud, booming exploding somethings into the air all day. We got to enjoy some fireworks that night.
I am an uncultured person. I have accepted it. When I went to Stone Henge when I was in London, I looked at it for 30 seconds and then I was ready to go. It's a bunch of really big rocks.
I have never been to the Grand Canyon even though I live in the Grand Canyon state, because of the same reason. I would probably go up there, look at it, and be ready to leave.
The same thing applied for the museums and ruins and such. Saw a few paintings, saw a few stones, ready to go. Beach anyone?
Lesson learned: When we went to the beach, I should have left the majority of my stuff in the hotel room. They kept playing an announcement over the loudspeakers not to leave your things unattended, which just made an already paranoid person even more paranoid. I decided the safest court of action was to completely lie on my bag, with both arms wrapped around it. I made it out of the country with nothing stolen. Being paranoid has its advantages.
The clothing sold and worn in Spain had English words and phrases on them, which was contrary to what I was expecting.
Lesson learned: When taking the metro or the train, you have to push the button or the doors won't open. And the people standing behind you think you're an idiot. Or a tourist, which just might be the same thing.
The restaurant servers looked at you like you had just suggested very lewd things when you asked for water. I still haven't figured out what the problem was. Are you only supposed to drink wine or sangria? They finally did give us water, though not the "agua de grifo" (tap water) we asked for. It was always bottled water, and it was never enough. It's difficult when you come from the land of free refills.
One time we ate at KFC just because they advertised free refills on soda.
We went to a fancy restaurant that kept bringing out "compliments of the kitchen." This little crawdad really freaked me out with his quivering tentacles and eyeballs, but I cracked him open and ate him because I am not a rude person.
The servers refused to separate the check. You don't tip in Spain, so they don't really go above and beyond.
The bathrooms are not labeled "banos" which is what I was prepared for. They are labeled "aseos" which literally means toilet.
The gelato is heavenly delicious. And I was expecting it to be expensive. It was around four euros. Not bad at all. A euro is worth $1.10, and then there is a small exchange rate fee charged by the bank, but really not bad at all. (Cody is in this picture on the right. I didn't realize we didn't get pictures with them.)
Not all taxi drivers will take "tarjetas de credito" (credit cards), so it was important to ask. It was difficult making sure we had enough euros, but not wanting too many leftover at the end of our trip.
It has somehow become a tradition that when we stumble across an Apple store (and we always do) that J memorialize it.
We met some amazing people at the conference. They were very welcoming. When we told them we were off to Madrid after Seville, we learned that one of the guys was going that way too. He was going to meet up with an old friend who lives in Switzerland now. We ended up bumping into him twice, so we made plans for the next day.
There are a lot of dogs in Spain. Hardly any of them are on leashes; they just follow their human around obediently. The underwriter in me marveled at this non-litigious society.
After having seen so many dogs around, I noticed that the Spanish reaction isn't the same as back home. Back home, people say hello to dogs and pet them, but that didn't happen in Spain. I asked a native I met at J's conference if it was acceptable behavior to pet a dog. He gave me a very confused look. Once I explained the word pet, he asked if it was a noun and a verb. I said yes, you can pet your pet. It was funny watching someone who is fluent in his non-native language learn something new.
The elevators don't start out with the first floor as floor one. The ground floor is floor zero, and the second floor is floor one, and so on.
When we were riding in a taxi, the driver honked at another taxi driver and waved. J asked, "Is that your compadre?" The taxi driver looked confused. I had heard the word before, but I wasn't exactly sure what it meant. I asked J if he meant "amigo" which means friend. The taxi driver agreed, it was his amigo. We looked up compadre later. It means godfather.
I wish the airplane wouldn't show the progress of the airplane flying over the Atlantic Ocean. It's slightly terrifying knowing we were flying over the middle of an ocean. Nothing down there but sharks.
