Mom and Dad would be so proud...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pJ9gxO8-6nU

Paris: The Land of Massive Pigeons and Delicious Food

PART 1: The Journey

It took every ounce of me to work up the strength to board the 18-hour train ride from Valencia to Paris, but I did it. Sean and I embarked with delicious bocadillos in hand around 1:30 PM, and mentally prepared ourselves for our 8:30 AM arrival in Paris the next day. The ride wasn't nearly as bad as we'd expected (especially not for 9.75 euro price tag), and we got a kick out of watching "Yes Man" in Spanish.

View of the Spanish Countryside from the Train

Sean and His Delicious Bocadillo

We got into Cerbere (on the Spanish/French border) around 8PM and waited until 9:30 for the train from Cerbere to Paris, fearing for our lives all the while. Unheated, under renovation, and a home to hobos and crackheads, the Cerbere train station might actually be the most accurate representation of what Hell would be, should the Good Lord smite me and send me that way. Growing up in Georgia helped to cultivate a tolerance for the sweltering heat; therefore, I'm pretty sure that God sends Southerners to the icy tundra that is Cerbere instead of to the firey depths of Hell. We could handle that heat, y'all.

The train to Paris included lots of nappage and a desperate need for a shower. When we finally made it to Paris, Sean headed to Orleans and I made my way to the hostel in order to take said shower. But did I get it? No, of course not. Because that would imply that my life isn't actually a joke. And let's be honest. We all know it is. Instead of checking into my room and meeting up with Caroline and Brit, I was told to come back at 4PM. I managed to talk them into letting me use their 2x2 bathroom (we're talking smaller than an airplane baño) to change clothes... very reminiscent of that scene in Tommy Boy. You know the one.

PART 2: Paris Domination, Day 1

After meeting up with Caro and Brit, we headed to the Metro in search of the Eiffel Tower. With my mind compromised by lack of sleep and proper nourishment, I agreed to join them on a "Fat Tire" bike tour of the city. No matter that it was 30 degrees and 4-hours long. We are badasses. We do what we want. Led by Texans with a good sense of humor and willingness to share their warm clothes (thanks, Emma, for the hat), it was a fun time all-around. I should also mention that the Redhead from the Delta in-flight safety video was pedaling alongside us, and that she's actually a badass. "Smoking is not allowed..."

That's right.

After our bike tour, we made our way to Notre Dame to mingle with los Católicos. (That's Spanish for "the Catholics"). My last experience in the historic cathedral involved Mr. President (Bill Clinton) and his buddy (James Carville). This visit wasn't quite as action-packed, but it was nice to take in the scenery and light a candle for my bro.

Inside Notre Dame

I don't know who you are, Mr. Statue, but I like you.

A Candle for Bub

All of this culture was making us hungry, so we decided to stop in a really neat café in Bastille for a cheese plate. At 2 euro a person, we had our fill and headed on home to our hostel to meet Grace and plan our night.

Getting Towards Sunset in Paris

Café in Bastille with a Badass Cheese Plate

After some light nappage, we decided to book it to the Louvre for free student entry night. By the time we got there, it was only 30 minutes 'til close, but that didn't matter-- we were having a blast soaking in our "Night at the Museum" experience. Like any group of American tourists, we immediately headed to the Mona Lisa. Though you can't usually see her for the swarm of folks around her, we lucked out and found only 5 stragglers in the room with us. Realizing that it was close to closing time, we quickened our pace and made it out the door within 30 minutes. How's that for a quick tour?

The Louvre at night... This doesn't even look real!

Yours truly with some weird painting... I don't remember the name.

Straight out of "Night at the Museum"

Grubbin' with some pals at the Last Supper

Again, this doesn't even look real!

After the Louvre, we grabbed some dinner and passed out in our tiny little hostel beds. Boom!

PART 3: Paris Domination, Day 2

Sometimes, I wonder why I don't have Rick Steves' job. The amount of sites that we saw (and pounds that we gained) on Saturday easily broke his record, and I'd like to take the time to thank Caroline O'Neill, our own personal Magellan, for making that happen. Because I'm lazy, I'm going to illustrate our day (and maybe write a little, too) so that you can understand just how badass (and fatass) we are.

After wandering around the market in Bastille, we hopped the Metro to Sacre Coure. (Side note: I'm not kidding when I say 'hopped'. We came to find that jumping over the turnstiles when the desk guys aren't looking saves you 1.60 euro per jump. Parisians do it all the time and are eager to help American girls follow their lead. I like to call it an investment: for the 10 tickets I actually did pay for, I got about 25 rides out of those guys. Booyah, Paris!)

We took a few pictures in front of the church overlooking the city, and quickly decided that we were in need of some banana and nutella crepes. Montmart, the surrounding neighborhood, didn't let us down.

Crepes: A little gift from God to which 95% of our funds went

Después de enjoying our crepes, we continued to wander around Montmart, stopping mostly in bakeries to admire their delicious culinary creations.

Montmart Bakery #1

Montmart Bakery #2

We also ran into some precious little drummer boys

Following our Montmart adventure, we hopped the Metro to the Latin Quarter and then made our way to the Luxembourg Gardens, where I staked my claim for my wedding reception.

Luxembourg Gardens

After leaving the gardens, we ambled through St. Germain and made our way towards Shakespeare & Company, one of the coolest bookstores I've ever encountered. All the books were in English, which was a nice change from the usual Spanish that I've seen for the past 2 months. The walls were covered with book shelves and quotes-- I could have lived there.

Shakespeare & Co

The Stairwell

The Children's Section

After picking up a surprise for my sweet nephew and a little something for myself, we made our way to the Jewish Quarter in search of the best falafel I've ever had-- well worth the hour-long walk and hour-long wait. After falafel we decided we needed some coffee, and after coffee we decided that we needed a cupcake. Don't judge.

Next was a difficult hostel shower, a brief moment of being locked in a tiny, stupid, Parisian bathroom, and some delicious Mexican food with free margaritas (gotta love that sweet, Southern charm). After a Chimay Rouge at Polly Magoo's, we called it a night... and what a good night sleep it was.

PART 4: It's All a Haze

Sunday was spent wandering around Paris with Grace and Chelsea waiting to hop back on a train with Sean at 10PM that night. I remember that several crepes and coffees were involved, and that the train ride to Cerbere was characterized by lots of sleeping. When we got to Cerbere at 8AM the next morning, we were met by a legitimate blizzard, the same sketchy station, and a third wheel to Che Guevara and Fidel Castro. His dog's name was "Cuba" and he wore all camo, except for the bright orange Che shirt that he loved to show off. I was too tired to laugh. At 3:30 PM Monday, we made it home to Valencia, at which point I wrote down my most notable observations of the past weekend:

1.) Paris is nice to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. Valencia it is.

2.) French scares me

3.) My Spanish is a lot better than I think it is

4.) Parisian bathrooms are tiny and dangerous. Their locks are unpredictable and can lead to minor panic attacks.

5.) What mutant gene do their pigeons have? Those things are massive!

6.) (As asked by Brit, Grace and Caro) Why would anyone ever want to come to America? We have free refills and Stone Mountain. That's about it.

Yowzas, that was a long one!

Barcelona: The land of Pickpockets, Chupitos, and Scary, Scary Men

DAY 1

After a 5 hour bus ride, we made it to Barcelona ready to get the night started. We settled into our 4-star hotel (thanks, UGA!), proceeded with some heavy pregaming, and headed out for a night on the town. Our first stop was Espit Chupitos, a shot bar in Catalunya, where we met up with Courtney. She showed us the ropes and we caught on pretty quickly, engaging in some of the most ridiculous chupitos (shots) I've ever encountered:

Buscando Nemo (Finding Nemo)

After covering an unidentified blue alcohol with a blast of whipped cream, an M&M (Nemo) is then dropped into said concoction for you to find-- without using your hands.

The Boyscout

Shots of another unidentified liquor are lit on fire for you to roast a marshmallow over, dip in the alcohol, eat, and finish the shot.

Getting our Boyscout on at Espit Chupitos

The Harry Potter

Unidentified alcohol goes up in flames and sparks when magic dust is thrown on the shot glasses. Expecto Patronum, anyone?

...After about a half an hour and 8 shots later, we headed to Razzmatazz, a massive discoteca to dance and drink the night away. We left the club around 3 AM with 1 missing Wolfpack member, a black eye, and a pair of heels held together with bubblegum. Classy. Needless to say, it was a successful night.

With Grace, Britt, Taylor, and Kristen at Razzmatazz

DAY 2

Whose idea it was to load 40 hungover students on a 4-hour bus tour at 10 AM? Bad decision. We spent some time at Park Guell and then headed back to the hotel to rest up for my half birthday. That's right. Half birthday.

We're goin' down fast, Captain! - Ryan and Me in Park Guell

Additionally, I've found that the Spanish equivalent to the "crab claw" is the full-on ass grab. If there's one thing Spanish men are not, it's shy. After shoving a man down the stairs as he grabbed my face and tried to kiss me whilst exiting Metro, I decided that I'd take the frat boy crab claw any day. At least frat boys (occasionally) bathe.

Half birthday preparedness on the Metro. Creeper not pictured.

DAY 3

Even though we were out until 4 AM and had a to board a bus home at noon the next day, Caro, Suz and I did some light exploring before meeting the group and heading back to Valencia. Favorite stop: Sagrada Familia.

Outside of the Sagrada Familia

Barca was great, but nothing beats Valencia.

Love y'all!

E

Top 5: Things That I Legitimately Don't Like About Spain

1.) The Lunchladies

Remember Miss Mae who served you your food every day grades K-12 with a smile on her face and a lovely, "How are you today, sweetie?" In Spain, not so. Lunch Lady Land? False. Forget it. These ladies hate us. I'm really, really not kidding. "Gracias" and "Por favor"? Don't even say it. They'll just hate you more. What's that you say? You're a Spanish student? Oh, never mind then! In that case, I'll love you forever and sneak you extra food and drinks. But don't tell those stupid American students. They dress funny and are too polite.

2.) That asshole who works at the train station

You see me approach your ticket booth, and you laugh. "Dublín?" You say. "Quieres ir a Dublín!?" You laugh some more. You tell the guys behind you in the language you think I can't understand. "Hey fellas, these little American kids want to go to Dublín! Can you believe that!? What a joke!" They laugh. You smirk. I stab the mole on your forehead with my eyes. Why can't you just sell me the ticket?

3.) In America, we clean up after our dogs.

You know those days when you just can't wait to step in a steaming hot pile of dog poo left for you by that massive German Shepherd just a few paces up the road? Yeah, me either. The sidewalks may be made of pretty, shiny marble, but beware: land-mines are abundant and do NOT discriminate between worker boots and Tory Burch flats.

4.) Why don't you people believe in ice?

Ice + water = ice water. Please. Pleaaaaase.

5.) Vegetarian ≠ Meatless

I can see the conversation now. "Hey, Javí, we can still label this 'vegetarian' even if we hid a layer of ham underneath the cheese, right?" "Certainly," Javí replies. "Ham Sandwiches, Pepperoni Pizzas, Pastas, Paellas... it's all the same, really."

*But really though. Spain is great. (Despite aforementioned characteristics).