Beer, Meat, Fast Cars, and Fire.

Okay, so after London, the next stop on our tour of Europe was Munich, Germany. My roommate Charlie and a few of his friends came with me, Steb, and Zac to attend a festival called Starkbierfest. Starkbierfest, which literally means Strong Beer Fest, commemorates the Monks of Munich who, during the Lent season of fasting, brewed an extra strong beer to help with their hunger. We would soon find out that Monks really know how to party.

Upon our arrival in Germany, we quickly found that Munich is a city designed for men. Our friend, The Godfather, had decided last-minute to book a flight there to meet up with us for the second weekend in a row. He met us at the Munich central train station and showed us to our hostel… right in the center of what seemed to be the red light district (reason number 1 that Munich is a city for men). After getting settled into our hostel, we headed out with the Godfather to grab some lunch. We walked down the main pedestrian area of Munich and found ourselves in a big beer hall. The smallest quantity of beer that you can order in these halls is a half liter. We went with the liter option (liters of beer: number 2 reason Munich is a city for men). To go with it, we got some traditional Bavarian sausages (the amount of meat consumed in Munich: number 3 reason that it is a man’s city). It was good food and good drink. We walked back to our hostel past all the German gibberish signs (worst language ever) and all the beautiful Gothic architecture to hang out for a little while before going on a tour of the major beer halls that night. We went with our tour group to a few beer halls before breaking off to go to the one that we had heard of: Hofbrauhaus. This place was huge… basically a gigantic open room with a bunch of tables in it where you sat down wherever you could, and not necessarily with your group of friends. We were lucky enough to snag a table together next to a couple of Spaniards and a few Germans who claimed to be the cousins of Jaromir Jagr (famous hockey player). A couple of beers and a roasted leg of pig later, things got a little hazy. All said, the Hofbrauhaus was an unbelievable time, and an experience that everyone should try if they have the chance.

The next day, we woke up and nursed our hangovers with some coffee while we tried to decide what to do. It also occurred to us at that point that we had no idea where the Godfather was, and he wasn’t answering his phone. Shortly thereafter, I got a call from a strange phone number. It was the Godfather, calling from the 4 star hotel he had stayed in the night before. Apparently, he disappeared at some point during our long night in the Hofbrauhaus and returned to his hostel only to engage in fisticuffs with the manager of said hostel. He was gently escorted out by something like 5 large German officers of the law, and elected to stay in a 4 star hotel that night rather than one of the three other hostels on the same street as his. He also woke up with a brand-new pair of Ray Bans, box and all… and only God knows how he got them. Our theory is that he stole the Ray Bans from the manager, and that’s how it all went down. But I digress. After finding him and getting ourselves together, we decided to go to the BMW factory and museum (fast cars: reason number 4 Munich is a city for men). It was really cool to see the origins of the company and some of the cool cars and motorcycles they’ve put out over the years. When we got back to the city, we continued to walk around to see some of the government buildings, a ton of Churches, and the Marienplatz main plaza with the famous Glockenspiel clock.

That night was Starkbierfest. In a word: unbelievable. We arrived to the Paulaner beer hall at about 8:00 PM. Apparently we were late. As the only Americans in the place (which was even bigger than Hofbrauhaus), we were astonished at the scene we walked into. Never in my life have I seen so many people so drunk. People were dancing, singing, jumping around on tables, sleeping on tables… it was really something to walk into. We grabbed our liters of Starkbier and began to consume. Now, not only does one beer translate to roughly four or so cans of beer, but the beers themselves were significantly stronger. A normal beer is about 3.5%-4% alcohol volume. Starkbier is more like 10%. So, after about two of these bad boys we were up on the tables singing and dancing along with all our new German friends. Most of the time Germans are thought of to be somewhat cold and very austere. That’s not the case during Starkbierfest. They were all friendly, hilarious, and loved talking about American culture. After singing “I Will Survive,” “Country Roads,” “Highway to Hell,” and “Can’t Take My Eyes Off You”, we made our way to the tram and headed back to the bar at our hostel for a nightcap. On the way, we stopped in one of the many casinos to play the slots for a couple minutes (all the casinos: reason number 4 Munich is a city for dudes).

The next day, we had a flight to catch, so we walked around Munich, had a great “American” breakfast (bacon and eggs), and took a walk through the famous English Gardens. Munich really was a beautiful city with great examples of Gothic architecture and great, welcoming people… I have to say that I was a little surprised by that.

Alright, I’m almost up to date with the blog. Last weekend, I went with a few friends to Valencia (about 4 and a half hours south of Barcelona) for a festival called Las Fallas. In a nutshell, Las Fallas is Valencia’s way of welcoming spring. Each “barrio” of Valencia spends the entire year constructing giant statues made out of materials like wood and paper machet. They’re really, really exquisite works of art, and each one honestly belongs in a museum. However, only one of them gets put in a museum. The rest are burned in the middle of the streets and plazas of Valencia. The raging infernos that result from burning these 60-foot giants, combined with the most incredible fireworks show you’ve ever seen and little kids throwing around M-80s like candy on Halloween, is what constitutes the welcoming of spring to Los Valencianos.

Now that I’ve laid down the groundwork, I’ll explain a little bit about the way we experienced Las Fallas. Zac, Steve, and I, along with some friends from class, went with a group called Stoke Travel. Stoke is a travel company for students that takes people on tours such as Las Fallas, surfing in Morocco, and snowboarding in Andorra. It’s run by a bunch of drunk Australians, who really remind me of an Australian version of the cast of Jackass. For the Las Fallas trip, Stoke doesn’t get a hostel… we stayed in tents at a campsite about a block from the beach. There were bathrooms, showers, and they cooked us breakfast and barbeque for dinner, so it wasn’t like we were roughing it. Oh, and it was all you can drink beer and sangria for 5 euro a day. So… yeah. That was fun.

Our bus got in on Friday night at about 8, and we left for the city to see the festivities at about 11:30. So, in that three hour time span, we settled in and started taking advantage of the drink deals. By the time we got on the bus to go to Valencia, everyone had taken a considerable number of beers to the face and we were all chanting USA on the way into town. When the bus got in, the guys from Stoke surprised everyone with a free liter of sangria each to take in the show. It was like, “hey guys, now that you’re all good and drunk, have this free liter of sangria!” (In an Aussie accent). So, we started walking into the city, which was like a war zone with all the fireworks and M-80’s going off all over the place, and the constant fog of smoke. We forced our way through the crowds of drunken Valencianos to get to the main city square, where the biggest Falla was going to happen. The statue was right in the center of the square, and was literally like 60 feet tall. The plaza was filled with thousands of people, and there was a squad of firefighters taking the necessary precautions to make sure that nothing went wrong. This consisted simply of putting big sheets over the trees in the plaza, which I think would actually only encourage the flames… but anyway. As the firefighters were dousing the statue with gasoline, we watched an INSANE fireworks show, and saw the smoke of other fires rising up through the air. When it came time for the main show to go down, all the lights in the plaza went off and smoke started filling the square. Then we started to see the flames, which quickly grew to a blaze. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, and I’m sure I’ll never see anything like it again. I still can’t believe that they actually allow that to happen in the center of the city in a plaza FILLED with people. It would NEVER fly in the USA.

The next day, we woke up and had a good breakfast from the Aussies and headed in to town to see Valencia by day. We didn’t get a good idea of it the night before, but it is actually a very nice town. Not too big, not too small. Very pretty architecture with narrow, maze like streets and lots of flowers. We had some traditional Valencian paella, walked around, and headed back to camp. We took a brief nap during a rainstorm in our tents (kinda cool), then woke up for the barbeque. That night we just chilled out, drank some beer, and ate some burgers and dogs. It was a really good time to just be relaxed (not to mention the Aussies were just hilarious).

Well, that’s pretty much it. Next week is our spring break… I promise that I’ll write a good post right after. But class just ended (this came at ya from Mediterranean Oceanography), so I gotta run. Vito, you know what I expect.

Carvin the Alps and the Crew Hits London

So I'm officially the worst blogger ever. I always say I'm gonna make a post soon, and then never do. I guess it's just easy to get distracted around here (not that I've ever had trouble getting distracted anywhere). But here I am, finally sitting down to write a post.

Where do I begin? Last I wrote, I was in Sitges for Carnaval. It's been an action-packed month since then, with a ton of travelling. The last weekend of February, Steb, Zac and I went to Interlaken, Switzerland. It's a small town nestled in the Swiss Alps, right in between two crystal-clear blue lakes. In terms of physical beauty, I've never seen a place like Switzerland. Everywhere you looked was simply breathtaking. That said, we did have a little trouble getting there. Our original flight to Zurich was canceled due to a strike of air-traffic controllers in France. With nobody keeping an eye on the skies in France, you can't fly an airplane over the entire country. And apparently, you can't fly around it, either. Two of the things I hate the most in life (labor unions and the French) conspired against me to try and ruin my weekend. But we didn't let that happen. On Friday, we walked around the city to grab some lunch and take in the sights. We walked around for a while before heading back to our hostel, Balmer's Herberge, to take a nap (we were exhausted from our re-scheduled 6AM flight). That night, we had some dinner and a few beers before turning in early to rest up for the next day. On Saturday, we headed up the mountains for a day on the slopes. I snowboarded while Steve and Zac skied. This being the first time Zac had ever attempted skiing, it was a pretty hilarious day (although he did win the most improved and best attitude awards). Like I said before, I've never seen anything as beautiful in my life as I did that day. From the top of the Swiss Alps, everything just looks unbelievable. Six hours or so on the slopes, though, will make a guy tired. We went back to the hostel, and again, we took a nap (this one well deserved). That night, we ate dinner at Hooters. Having buffalo wings for the first time in two months was, possibly, one of the best parts of the weekend. The only problem was that, when you factored in the exchange rate, our meal ran us about $90. Switzerland is crazy expensive. After dinner, we went to the club on the ground floor of our hostel and had a blast with the locals and some other Americans we had met. The next day we tried to get up early to go paragliding, but some nasty winds came in and we couldn't get in the air... it was a major disappointment. On the whole though, we had a great time in Switzerland, and I'll never forget the experience of snowboarding in the Swiss Alps.

We got back to Barcelona, went to class for the week, and ducked out on Thursday night to go to London. I LOVED London, for a number of reasons. 1: My family was there. 2: My friend The Godfather studies there. 3: Our other friend Zack came in for the weekend. 4: The speak English. 5. The Royal Bayswater Hotel (Most deceiving name ever. Not an actual hotel. Not in any way royal. Not located by a bay, or any body of water for that matter. A pure dump. But, our phat crew managed to turn it into a raging party and it was awesome all the same). We came into London with 7 people... Zac, Steb and I, plus four of our girl friends who are studying in Barcelona and go to IU. London is a truly awesome city... I loved everything about it. The people were nice, the city was beautiful, and everything had a really distinct feel to it like it was royal. They really take that monarchy stuff seriously... everything in London is so regal. Really interesting. We walked around on Friday, and I did some sightseeing with the fam. It was great to see my sisters and my mom and my brother in law after two months of not being able to talk to them whenever I want. After seeing Big Ben, Parliament, the London Eye, and Abbey Road, my family and I headed back to their hotel to relax before dinner. After a great steak (they don't really have our kind of steak in Spain... it was fantastic to have a real stake), I headed back to the Royal Bayswater too meet up with the "Crew" and get things moving on the night out in London Town. Our pregaming skills were really on display here, as we crammed out 15 people into our 8-person hostel bunk room and bumped 90s music and "I'm On a Boat" as loud as we could and sang every word. The Godfather took us to one of his local favorites, and we had a great time hanging out around Picadilly Circus. The next day we did more sightseeing, stopping by Princess Diana's mansion and a place called Camden Market for some cheap food and good people watching. We then went to the Cabinet War Rooms... This is where Churchill and the Brits laid out all their plans for WWII. It's a bunker right in the middle of London that has 6 feet of steel re-enforced concrete overhead to protect from the German bombs during the Blitz of London. It was really cool to see all the recent history and the place where so many huge decisions were made that affected history. We saw Churchill's secretary's to-do list from D-Day as well as the meeting minutes from the day the Allies won the war in Europe... very cool stuff. We then sat in on a choral performance in St. Paul's Cathedral and saw Shakespeare's theater before getting some dinner and heading back to the old Bayswater for round two. Now of course, we pregamed harder than most people find acceptable, and hopped on the Tube to get to Picadilly, where we went to a bar called O'Neal's. We slammed Jaeger bombs (cause we're awesome like that), and when Empire State of Mind came over the speakers, we took over the whole place with our Americanness. After that, it's a blur.

The next morning, we got up and checked out of the Royal Bayswater and got what turned out to be the most expensive breakfast any of us had ever eaten. The bill itself wasn't that big, but the horribly slow service led to us missing our flight. I mean, we were there on time, but a certain low-cost airline called RyanAir has a strange way of doing things. After we ran through security (nobody even asked me for ID the whole time... kinda scary) and ran to the absolute furthest gate in the airport, the people working at the gate told us that we couldn't get on the plane. You see, we were missing a particular stamp on our boarding pass... one that we were never told we needed, even when we checked in at the front desk. Long story short, the employees of RyanAir were far and away the rudest people I've ever met, and we had to buy 150 pound tickets from EasyJet the next morning in order to get back to Barcelona in time for class. So we were out the dough from two flights, had nowhere to stay, nothing to do, and all our luggage with us. So what did we do? We went back into London, got some dinner, and saw Alice in Wonderland in 3-D. After that, we defended our nation's pride against some dickhead Brit, got on a train to the airport for the second time that day, and tried to snag a few z's on the cold, hard ground of London Gatwick. A successful trip.

Here I'm gonna do two things: first I'm gonna throw a quick shout-out to the fam, who visited me that next week in Barcelona. It was great to have you guys here and show you around the city. The dinners were good, the drinks better, and the company fantastic. I'm also gonna break this post off because it is getting just stupid long. And the next one will be too. So... sorry about that.