How Do You Say Food in Spanish?

The menu at Tapas 24
After we couldn't stand and stare any longer, we went for lunch at Tapas 24, a restaurant by Ferran Adria of El Bulli fame (foodies will understand the significance of this--El Bulli had a 6 year waiting list until it closed this year). It was great. We got:

-Bravas (spicy fried potatoes) & guacamole (really need to remember they don't make it with avocado in Spain):

- Tandoori lamb kebabs - Foie gras burger:

- Miso-glazed peppers...
which when we ordered them seemed like a good idea, until a row of chili peppers appeared before us and we just looked at each other like "what have we done!? How the hell are we going to eat TWELVE chili peppers!" Luckily, when I took the plunge, I was pleasantly surprised at the lack of heat. Chili peppers, they were not. Impostors. But I'm not complaining--the food was delicious.

In true spanish style, I had a little siesta then shopped a bit (but decided to wait til London to buy anything, so I don't have to carry it). In the evening, the hunt for Paella was in full force. Since Mr. Zimbabwe was leaving the next day, it was my last chance to try the traditional dish (they only make it for a minimum of two people so you can't order it on your own). It is really difficult to find good paella that isn't touristy in the part of barcelona I stayed in: traditionally, paella is brown, because of the squid ink used to cook the rice (stay with me here). But restaurants will substitute saffron instead, making it yellow. That, according to our tour guide, is not real paella. But it doesn't make sense why they would do that--isn't saffron the most expensive spice in the world?

Anyways. We walked around for a bit then went for dinner at (I forget the name, dammit! It started with a C. Not important). A compromise because the tapas sounded really good, but they also made (brown) paella. We had:

- Goat cheese and honey brioche - Something with eel--found out the hard way that it is NOT the sweet, barbecued sushi variety, but a tangle of gray, slimy, tentacles. Yum. -Tuna tataki (seared tuna)

- Foie gras (again, can you tell I really like this dish?) I also discovered cava sangria (made with champagne instead of red wine) which takes things to a whole other level.
Last but not least, chicken and pork paella!
All in all, a great meal (although it still doesn't compare to Seville--I don't think I'm ever going to find tapas that will beat it, for the quality and price combined).

Tasty Tapas

Sept 8: I woke up in some serious pain this morning, so I staggered down the street to McDonald's (seriously where else do people eat after going out? It's the only logical choice) to rehash the night with some friends from the night before. I met up with Mr. Zimbabwe (I really wanted to call him Cady (Lindsay Lohan's character in Mean Girls, who also grew up in Africa) but I don't think he would find it as funny as I did so I refrained) in the afternoon, and we wandered over to Plaza De Espana and the cathedral (the biggest Gothic Cathedral in the world), although it was so hot we weren't too enthusiastic about anything. The Plaza was really beautiful--it reminded me a lot of the palace in Vienna, except red. One thing I will never get sick of is all the palm trees. Canada, get with the program! You have everything else, heat included. Rule No. 76: No excuses! Play like a champion! I also made my way over to the train station to book my trip to Alicante for the next day.

One problem (among many) with a Eurail pass: - You need reservations for a lot of the trains, which requires you to plan further ahead than you'd maybe like. - Reservations cost extra (on top of the 393 Euros I paid for the pass) - You can't book them online, as there's no aggregated system for the different rail lines Eurail is valid for. Result: Spanglish disaster.

Anyone who says the French are snobbiest when it comes to people not speaking their language have clearly never been to Spain. Coincidentally, I never realized how little Spanish I knew until I arrived. The problem is that unlike every other country I've been to so far, Spanish people don't speak English, and refuse to make things easy for you. There is no slow, simple sentences reserved for foreigners. If you don't speak like they do, tough luck. Now try to imagine explaining the parameters of the Eurail pass you'd like to buy, and that was my afternoon. I start with the customary "Ola! Como estas?" So far so good. I smile apologetically and continue with "No habla Espanol." The ticket cashier stares at me and replies, straight-faced, "No habla Ingles." Okay then. This should be fun. I wanted to book a train to Alicante, which required a change at a certain station. I feel like a senior citizen when I'm booking these tickets, because I'll hear the entire sentence, yet comprehend every seventh word, so it's like putting madlibs together: Train ____ _____ _____ ______ Alicante _____ _____ ____ __ ________ change _____ _____ _____ No ____ _____ _____ Reserva.

Okay. Let me get this straight. You can book me a train to Alicante, but I have to change and you can't reserve me a seat? Good to see my Eurail pass is just teeming with value--I've already spent at least 50 Euros on reservations, on top of the 393 I already paid for the pass. So ridiculous.

That evening, Zimbabwe and I decide to meet up and try some local tapas--our hostel was doing a tapas tour, but after our experience with Raphael we decided we'd try to find better value for our money elsewhere. We settled on a little place called La Mata, which was empty but looked nice inside, and boy am I glad we did.

Easily the best meal I've had my entire trip--I'm so mad I didn't bring my camera with me! For anyone who doesn't know (hopefully none of you), tapas is like little plates of food in really interesting combinations of flavours, designed for sharing. It's really cheap, and really good. It's like building your own tasting menu (which normally costs a fortune).We tried: - Chicken tulips - Mussel tempura - Salmon tartare - Iberian pork shoulder with orange chocolate sauce - Grilled prawns with taboulet (couscous) - Grilled fois gras medallion with caramel sauce - Gin and tonic sorbet - Spanish wine Guess how much that all cost us? A whopping 35 euros. Each of those plates was so expertly put together that it would have easily cost 30 PER PLATE at home in a city like Toronto. The flavor profiles were just incredible. I was so impressed. If that's what the food is like in Spain, I'm never leaving.

After that, I headed back to the hostel to pack because my train left at 7:15 the next morning. Not that my attempt at an early night mattered one bit, as I was staying in a room with 6 other French girls who had no respect for the other six people who were also there. (It seems logical that if the lights are off and it's after midnight, you try to be quiet when entering your room. Mais NON!--lights were flicked on, drunken shouting ensued, as if the rest of us weren't even there. Mind-boggling. I wanted to throw a bottle at their head but I didn't. No pending assault charges, unless the cops can read my mind.) It's been a good time in Seville, but I can't wait to see what Alicante is like!

I'm really glad I went down to Seville, because I'm going to get a taste of three very different Spanish cities. Seville is typical Andalucia; Alicante is a coastal university town, and Barcelona is Barcelona.

So today, I get to Ciudad Real, the city I have to change trains in, and check at the information desk. Through my Spanglish I discover the clerk in Seville did not book me a reservation all the way through, but only to Ciudad Real. Real helpful, buddy. Good thing I checked, or I would've been ticketless on this train--the last thing I need is to be forcibly removed and dumped in a city in the middle of nowhere. Crisis avoided, though, and am on my way to Alicante.

Pub Crawls and Spanglish

Monument to Christopher Columbus Sept 7: get up, take advantage of the free breakfast, head to walking tour organized by the hostel at 11:15. Tour takes about 3 hours; we are dying of heat by the end of it--Seville is HOT if you didn't know. The thermometer read 43 degrees--at 9 am. Tour was interesting, learned a lot of history of the town, but our guide kept telling us how hungover he was and looking at his notes, so he only got 5 Euros from me at the end. Was about 3:30 by the time we got back, so I just walked around town for a bit by the hostel.

Now, in Spain, for a Canadian like me, ordering food is a process; it's a bit like putting a blindfold on and pointing at the menu, since I have no idea what anything means. Every meal is a surprise! Good thing I'm into this whole food adventure, otherwise I could be in for quite a shock (I hear they eat sheep's brains here, no joke--note to self: I should probably learn what that is in Spanish). I tend to just point at whatever I want to have, since I don't know the sentences required for simple tasks like ordering food or buying train tickets. Anyway, I am on the hunt for salad at all times after being deprived of vegetables for two months in Asia, so I stop at a cafe on my way back from the tour. Just my luck, Spain is not big on salad. But they do have Pinchos. Whatever that is. I take a gamble and order one. They sound like a baguette sandwich from what I can decipher. I'm ravenous at this point--I can't wait to tuck into a hearty lunch. It arrives, and it turns out a Pincho is a SLICE of baguette toast with cheese and one lonely anchovy. That's it. (And no salad in sight). I guess that's why it was only 2 euros on the menu...

I took advantage of the meal at the hostel, which was a plate of Mexican food and sangria for 4 euros--not bad! Our hostel was running a pub crawl for 10 Euros and you got four shots included. It sounded like a good deal and lots of people were going, so I decided to do it. Besides, I hadn't been on a pub crawl yet so I thought it would be a good way to meet people. I was right; I met some Australians, a couple of German girls, a Seattle native living in Prague, and a big group from Belgium. Seattle and I decided to teach everyone how to play flip cup, and so began our pub crawl evening. How can you not play flip cup in Spain? You start by singing Ole, Ole Ole Ole for goodness' sake!

The guy leading the pub crawl is the tour guide from this morning...Raphael--and get this--he's a sculptor. I'm not making this up. He put his best Spanish moves on me but I wasn't buying it. ("I'm an artist...maybe I'll show you my work sometime.." I saw Vicky Cristina Barcelona, Raphael. I know exactly what you're up to.)

We headed out at about 11:30 and the crawl was average at best. The first place we went to was empty except for our group; the second place had litre mojitos for 5 Euros, so we ordered, but they took about half an hour to make them and they were the grossest thing I've ever tasted. As a bartender I was offended someone would serve that! (He didn't even muddle the mint leaves...in a MOJITO!) At the next bar I realized, to my dismay, they hadn't given me the proper change at the last place, so to add insult to injury, not only did I have a litre of sugar water, but it cost me about 40 Euros. Not good. The last place we went to, we were told, was a dance club. We get there, and it's a reggae club. People are smoking everywhere inside, and it's just generally sketchy. We decide to peace and walk home. I met an Australian who grew up in Zimbabwe and was full of great stories, so at least the night ended on a good note--until I looked at the clock and realized it was 6:30 am. We literally saw people opening their cafes for breakfast on our way back to the hostel.

Me at the Plaza de Espana

Canada Dry, Never Die

Total hours in Cairo so far: 17Number of marriage proposals: 28 Number of gifts: 3 Number of gifts possibly hiding concealed narcotics: 2

Sept 2/3 I arrived in Cairo at night, after my plane was delayed in Doha. I dodged a proposal from the airport clerk (in exchange for a free visa, tough call...) collected my bag, and met my friend Sarah and her boyfriend Bilal, who were picking me up. I've known Sarah since I was little, even though she's from Germany, as she also works with the same charity in India, so we kind of grew up together. She even came and stayed with my family in Canada a few years ago!

They took me to this fish restaurant on the Nile (literally on a boat in the river, so cool! There's a ton of places like it along the river) where we selected our seafood like you would in a marketplace, then the chef weighs and makes it. Had amazing spreads and dips with bread, soup, salad, shrimp, calamari, and the fish. So much food! It was a feast. But a delicious one. I don't think many dishes can top freshly caught seafood. Move over, Red Lobster (except your biscuits, they can stay).

The next morning, Sarah had to go into her school (she teaches at the German International school in Cairo--the public system in Egypt is so bad that they have private International schools everywhere, so anyone who can afford it gets sent there), so Bilal took me to get falafel for breakfast, which was amazing. I can't believe I thought I wouldn't like it! And handy, too; it comes in a sort of pita so you can grab it and go. McDonald's, girl please.

After making sure I had enough water to last, he dropped me at the pyramids. I cannot stress this enough: if you have a student card, bring it! Everywhere! (The only catch is that because I have no date on my student card (unlike an ISIC card, which you have to pay for), certain sticklers at ticket windows won't accept it. But I've gotten away with it more times than not, so it's worth a shot for sure.) You never know where you can get a discount, and it never hurts to ask. Case in point: Entrance to the pyramids: 100 pounds. With student card: 30. Boom.

Alright. Going to the pyramids is exhausting. Luckily, I had just come from India, so I was prepared for the touts hounding you every step of the way. It's the blonde hair! I can't hide--they spot me from a mile away! Egyptians will come up and ask to take a photo with you, so I was back in celeb mode all over again. That much I was at least used to from my time in India. But Egyptians take it up a notch. When I take off my sunglasses and they see blue eyes, I'm really in for it. That's when the gifts start coming. I now have in my possession: a mock Sphinx, a model of the pyramids (to scale), and a papyrus painting. Not a bad haul.

Bilal warned me they can be quite pushy, so I was ready for anything. Instantly, someone came up to me and assured me they worked there, so it was fine. I repeated my standard "La shukran", or "No Thank You", but they're persistent. I make it clear that I'm not paying them for whatever they're offering, but they continue anyways. I figure that's my disclaimer; if I tell them I won't pay and they choose to give me info about the history, or take pictures for me, that's their problem for not listening. You have to stick to your guns and be ruthless, though! It's funny seeing the system they have--at the end, I start walking away, and they say "hey! what about a tip? I told you so much stuff, took photos, etc." Then they try to suggest what the "Standard" tip is--20-50 pounds..such a joke. Trying to guilt trip me into giving them money! I stand my ground and shrug, "Sorry! I told you I wouldn't pay for this and you kept going anyway! Not my problem." They get mad, but I think they're more angry that their little scam didn't work on the hapless little blonde girl. Ha! Don't mess with this seasoned traveler.

The rules in the pyramids are inconsistent at best. To go inside the big pyramid, no cameras are allowed--yet I saw at least 5 others with cameras once I was in the tomb. In another area, however, the guard let me walk right by the sign that said no cameras, because I was Canadian. No joke. They all ask where I'm from, and every time I tell them, they go "Canada Dry! Never die!" What?! such a random thing to say!

An FYI: the pyramids are HOT inside. The corridors were built for midgets at best, or I guess the average height of Egyptians back then, but it means you have to walk up crazy narrow ramps, bent in half. There's little to no airflow. It's cool to say you've been inside, but it's really not that exciting. What's a little sweat if you get to wear the police officer's hat at the end?

The tombs surrounding the pyramids were way more interesting--you can see a ton of hieroglyphs. In true tourist fashion, I decided to take a camel ride into the desert to get a good view of the pyramids (and photos, because let's be real, that's half the reason anyone goes out there). I haggled my way down from 130 to 60 pounds, and refused my camel owner's attempt to extract more as a tip from me. A price is a price, bud! Really touristy thing to do, but I'm so glad I ponied up the cash (pun intended, ahaha).

I saw the sphinx after that, which was really awesome. It's smaller than I thought it would be, but the setup is neat--because it's sort of dug out of the ground, there's no fence or anything, just the edge, so you can take great photos. Minimizes the touristy feeling a bit, which is more than can be said for the pyramids themselves.

Another guide, Mohamed, came up to me and offered to take some photos. I did my usual speech about not paying, but for once, he actually didn't want money. He offered to show me some of the less busy tombs behind the sphinx that tourists don't really know about, so next thing I know, I'm clambering down stone steps into a dark cavern where they used to perform mummifications (the stone slabs are still there, creepy!). I did have a thought that maybe Mohamed had a more sinister reason for bringing me to a deserted tomb, but luckily all was fine and he was just a friendly tour guide. I got to see some interesting tombs, completely alone, and felt like I got to see a hidden part of Giza.

Last, Bilal met up with me and we saw the boat museum. Basically, in the 1920s, archaeologists discovered these massive boats buried beneath the surface right beside the pyramids. Turns out, these were the boats used to transport the stones used to build the pyramids up the Nile. They were buried next to the pyramids as a means of transportation for the afterlife. The museum is a funny concept--they raised the boat straight out of the ground and built a building around it so they never had to move it. And you have to wear these ridiculous slippers to prevent sand from eroding the boat (or something, they didn't exactly explain why they handed me burlap sacks for my feet).

When we got back to Sarah's, she was napping, so Bilal convinced me to do a video workout with him called Insanity. It is exactly that--40 minutes of cardio torture. Suicides, jump squats, pushups, football run thingys, mummy kicks (obv, we're in Egypt), mountain climbers, you name it, we did it. I could not move after it was over. Apparently it's a two month program with a different video everyday. I actually think I might check it out when I get home--I love that feeling of having nothing left after a workout! (My body, however, will disagree with me when trying to go down stairs for the next few days)

We went for sushi that night (my first sushi in 2 months, I cannot even tell you how excited I was for this--sushi is definitely my favorite food, I could eat it every day) and being the resident sushi expert, Sarah and Bilal let me explain a few things. Little did I know that this sushi place liked to use hot sauce instead of wasabi to spice things up. My spicy salmon, salad, and most other things were just about unbearable to eat, but it was too late to go back. Never again. I will ALWAYS ask to clarify this from now on, lesson learned.

A great first day in Cairo. Going to the Egyptian Museum tomorrow, can't wait to see some ancient treasure (and a few old folks--5000 years, give or take).

Do Something Crazy

The Last Resort: August 31
On the bridge before the big jump! Apparently my appetite for adventure wasn't satisfied by paragliding, because guess what I signed up for today? My thrill-seeking tour of Nepal took me to new heights (to the Tibetan border to be exact) for a day of canyoning (rappelling down waterfalls--7 to be exact) and...wait for it...bungee jumping.

Canyoning, and...bungee jumping. That's right. Because hurling myself off a mountain wasn't enough, I'm changing venues to a bridge. And going head-first. And it's non-refundable, so I have to jump. Good lord. James decided to do an overnight hike in the mountains, so I was on my own for this particular adventure.

Yes. This gal right here faced her fear of heights (seriously--I get dizzy if I stand on a chair in my living room) and signed up to jump off a suspension bridge in the middle of a gorge, more than 160 metres in the air, with raging waters below.

I met a med student from Norway (read: McSteamy) on the bus ride there who was also doing the jump for the first time, and we talked the whole way, which didn't give me time to get nervous about what I was about to do.

I had a full day so I wasn't sure which activity I would be doing first--the jump or the canyoning. Luckily, they gave me no time to think and called my name as the first person of the day to jump.

It wasn't so bad on the bridge itself, although it may have helped that I didn't look down once while crossing. Once I was in the middle of the bridge, getting my ankles strapped into a harness that would be my only lifeline preventing me from falling to my death in the river below, the flutters began in my stomach.

"Breathe in, breathe out, and look out at the gorgeous scenery around me," is what I kept telling myself. It's a really interesting exercise in managing your fear, because logically I know nothing can happen--this isn't going to hurt, it's safe, lots of people do it--but that doesn't stop your mind from going crazy thinking of the worst case scenarios.

Once your ankles are strapped together, you penguin-walk your way over to the jumping platform and the bungee cord is secured to your harness. The scariest part of the jump, in my opinion, is the fact that you have to jump head-first. there's no tentativeness allowed here (just my luck).
The jumping platform...see? It's not so scary til you look down. I step out onto the platform and my wall of fear-control disintegrates, and panic takes over. You know that feeling of dread when you get caught red-handed telling a lie? That's the best way for me to describe what it feels like to be on that edge, half listening to the instructions, half thinking about what you want your last words to be. I hear the instructions come to an end, and the guy counts down: "Three, two, one, JUMP!" My legs are frozen. I can't do it. I literally can't make my body perform the motion necessary to move forward.
The last thing I saw before I jumped. He cajoles me closer to the edge, and I am convinced he is trying to make me walk off the edge. "No, I don't think I can do this" I say to him. He reassures me the longer I'm up there the worse it gets...and he's totally right. I take a deep breath, I think about all the scary things that could happen, decide to listen to the part that's trusting everything will work out, and tip forwards into nothingness (a swan dive was out of the question--my legs were jelly).
Me, mid-jump...proof I actually did it! The best way I can describe it is terror combined with elation--so basically what you feel when you go down that first big hill on a roller coaster. The feeling of falling is amplified because you have this narrow canyon wall on both sides of you, and you're watching the angry rapids of the river get closer and closer until suddenly you're being yanked upwards at the last second. Floating through the air, you're so disoriented that the feeling of falling has disappeared, and you're laughing because you can't believe you just did that, and it feels great.

Then you feel the ankle straps move, and terror seizes you again in full force. LOGICALLY, I know I was strapped in tight and wasn't going anywhere. But show me someone who is thinking logically while falling at 150 km/h. I thought I was going to survive the big jump, only to have my harness come loose on the after-bounces and die in the river anyway. How anti-climactic.

I'm flexing my feet for dear life, praying i stay in long enough to be brought down to safety, and finally I'm on solid ground. I have so much adrenaline that I can't stand right away--my legs are too shaky, and I'm laughing so hard I'm crying. It really makes you crazy!

A nice guy I met on the bus (Ash from Nepal, whattup!) was kind enough to take a few photos for me, but I also bought the DVD (as proof that I really did it, because I know I probably won't even believe it in a few years). They had to mail it home to Canada since I left early the next day, but when I get it, you'd better believe you will get to witness the hilarity of a little blonde girl tipping herself off the ledge of a suspension bridge.

Luckily, I had a half-hour hike back up the canyon to get back to the lodge to come down off my adventure high--they definitely fail to mention that part in the brochure--and prepare for my next activity, canyoning (which I cannot BELIEVE I spent money on Crocs for--so disgusted with myself). I changed into my gear--wetsuit, helmet, and Crocs..ugh...and found myself hiking the same trail I had just come up from bungee jumping!
My canyoning gear...minus the heinous atrocity that are Crocs...I was afraid they'd crack my lens if photographed

Canyoning was a change of pace from the morning's adrenaline rush; we rappelled down seven waterfalls of varying heights--I think the biggest was 47 metres. It was fun, but slow since we were a group of 10 and had to wait for everyone to do it one at a time. You get soaked, no way around it, and it made for some great views. At some parts we could even watch others doing their bungee jumps.

All in all, it was a busy, exhausting, exhilarating day, and I wouldn't change it for anything.

Today was one of the best days of my life.