Sarajevo to Belgrade: Cher and a Missing Sweatshirt

We had to wake up at 4:30am to make it to our 6am bus out of Sarajevo. I used the internet while Mom got ready. Because of the time difference, I was able to talk to some of my friends in the States.

We checked out and took a taxi to the bus station. On the way, we ran almost every yellow-red light (in Bosnia, lights run red-yellow-green-yellow-red so cars can shift into gear and go as soon as it changes to green). We were also treated to a Cher (and other tacky Western music) jam-session....at 5:30am. Passing the Ashkenazi Synagogue and Eiffel Bridge, built by the same guy whose tower stands in Paris, we arrived at the bus station.

Our bus ride out of Bosnia was totally uneventful, until we reached the border. The Bosnian customs official boarded the bus and searched through our bags stopping to examine medicine. First up was my Epi-Pen, which he seemed to recognize. I showed him my allergy paper and he moved on. Next was the bottle of Zyrtec, which he didn't know actually contained Zyrtec, Centrum and Caltrate. It said allergy and I mimed sneezing to explain its function. He asked if there was more medicine, I said there wasn't. Finally he pulled out a tampon and began to examine it. When he realized what he was holding, he dropped it quickly and zipped the bag. Our interrogation was over.

In Serbia, we were met with a female immigration official who took our passports into her office, stamped them and brought them back to us. She didn't ask us any questions. I was expecting her to say something about my Kosovo stamps, or at least ask me why I had been there. She didn't, so we were soon on our way.

Serbian roads were awful: potholes, broken bits, paver-style stones. This made sleeping almost impossible. It didn't help that the bus made an awful squeaking sound.

We stopped at a roadside restaurant where we watched two men carry an entire roasted pig on a spit from a small roaster/barbeque on the side of the road, through the dusty parking lot and into the back of the restaurant. We had brought snacks with us and did not eat at the place. We did, however, use their Turkish toilets. When we got back on the road, my mom realized her sweatshirt was missing. We had left a bunch of stuff on the bus (not any valuables), so we thought maybe someone had taken it. The girl behind us, who spoke English, told us that someone had seen a sweatshirt in the bathroom, but no one know whose it was. This was the sweatshirt we bought at MANGO in Barcelona. It was the only zip-up my mom had with her and she really liked it. We were relieved to find out that no one had stolen it because we didn't want to think these people would do that.

We arrived in Belgrade at 2pm and went across the street to the train station. I bought us tickets for a train that night to Sofia, we put our bags at a left luggage facility and grabbed a map from tourist info. Welcome to city number five!

Sarajevo: Another Bridge and Passover

Our hotel in Sarajevo was a B&B where we had our own bathroom and free internet. This pleased my mother. The first night, she and I wandered into the old part of the city and went to a traditional restaurant called Pod Lipom. We decided to try some local wines. Mom's was from Slovenia and tasted almost like vinegar. Mine was from Montenegro and was really good. The waiter told us that Bosnian wines are terrible. We both ate salads - mine was just cabbage! My favorite! Then Mom had homemade pasta with salty Balkan cheese and I had grilled chicken and spinach. On the way back to the hotel, we walked around some mosques and an old fountain.

Our hotel, Kandilj Pansion, was across the river from the old part of the city. To get there, we had to cross the Latinska Cuprija, Latin Bridge, site of the 1914 assassination of the Austro-Hungarian Archduke Franz Ferdinand. His shooting is often billed as one of the events which set off WWI. The bridge was small, just barely wide enough for a car to cross. When we crossed during the day, there were women selling goods, mostly bras, on it. I was thrilled to visit the bridge because of it's role in world history. It's something I had always learned in class, "Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian Empire, was shot on a bridge in Sarajevo." Before I even knew what or where Sarajevo was, I could recite this sentence.

The next morning I ate breakfast in the hotel....with eight guys from Turkey who, through their translator, invited me to drinks or dinner later that evening. They were on their way to Mostar, and I happily declined the invitation by saying that I was going to be needing to wake up early the following morning. They also served me Bosnian tea, which wasn't really special except for that they put tons of sugar in it.

We started the day by taking a tram to the National Museum of Bosnia and Herzegovina. We bought the wrong tickets (for a bus on our side of the river) and had to buy new ones when we boarded the tram....oops! When we got to the museum, we were across the street from the Holiday Inn Hotel. The ugly yellow box of a building was home to journalists during the 1994-5 siege of Sarajevo. The street between the hotel and museum is nicknamed Snipers' Ally: during the war, snipers hung out on the roves of the buildings shooting people who tried to escape the city by way of this main road.

We had come to the museum to see the Sarajevo Haggadah, the oldest Sephardic book of its kind and an illuminated manuscript. It was written/put together in Barcelona in 1530, but came to Sarajevo when Sephardic Jews were kicked out of Spain. The museum was a let down because the book was located in a small room behind glass. A glass case held the book in the center of the enclosed room, meaning we couldn't see anything. An interactive multi-media display let us flip through the book, but in the end, we wound up buying a reproduction copy to read at home. Outside the museum, I wandered through their "botanical garden" which was a small courtyard filled with labeled plants, many of which appeared to be dead or dying. There were also Bosnian tombstones called stechak, which are said to have originated half a millennium ago. They were ornately carved and decorative.

After the museum, we tried again to use our "bad" bus tickets, but we were on the wrong side of the river, so we had to buy new ones. We made our way back to the hotel and then went across to the old city. First we went to see men playing chess in Oslobejnia square, just outside the Serbian Orthodox church. The game was interesting to watch because one man, wearing a sleeveless shirt, was in charge of everything. All of the other men wore coats and layers as they stood in a circle around the chess board. The two men playing the match grabbed their 18-inch- high pieces as they yanked each other's pawns out of the way. The men allowed me to sit on the ground taking pictures. Next we set off to find lunch, first passing the national theater.

We wound up eating at a cafe called Michelle. I had grilled veggies and Mom had a huge calzone stuffed with cheese, turkey and mushrooms (I ate the turkey). We had to share a table because it was crowded. The other man at our table, who didn't speak until we were leaving, had been a refugee in Kentucky. He said he didn't understand much English, but his son was still living there and he was happy to have been outside Sarajevo during the war. An American in army fatigues sat at another table in the cafe. He was with another man (in street clothes) and they were later joined by a man from the Turkish army, in fatigues. I could hear them speaking English, but I'm not sure what their relationship was nor do I know what they were doing there. Later on, we did see a car with NATO license plates driving through the city.

After lunch we went to Markale Market, site of a 1994 bombing. A memorial wall stood at the back of the market, on it were the names of the victims: Serbs, Croats and Bosniaks (Muslims). A man explained the names to us and told us there were 35 deaths and almost 100 injuries. Near the market we found a meat shop which displayed its goods in the window. Through animal noises, I was able to figure out that the 4-foot long side of an animal was "mooo" (beef) and the legs were "bahhh" (lamb).

Next we wandered along the tram tracks to the Jewish Museum and Sephardic Synagogue, built in the 1960s. The synagogue was modern and freezing cold inside (because of stone walls). The museum was added to the synagogue because during the 1994 war all Jewish items were moved to this space. These included lists of Holocaust victims, photos from WWII, and objects explaining Pesach.

Back into the old city, we entered the courtyard of the Bey Mosque, a space open to tourists, in which we were even allowed to take pictures. Then we continued along to the Morica Han, an old inn from the Ottoman period. We were able to see the courtyard, but the inside has been converted into restaurants and cafes.

We spent some time shopping and browsing in the old city. Mom bought a shawl from a nonprofit which sells works made by Bosnian women. Money from the sales goes to rebuilding efforts in their villages and each piece comes with a tag telling stating where and by whom it was made.

After our shopping stop, we went to the Pigeon Fountain and old town hall building, which is still in ruins. Then we crossed the river and walked by the Sarajevo brewery on our way to Saint Anthony's Church. The red building was decorated with modern paintings, statues, and stained glass. There was no holy water on the premises, but we were able to purchase a candle for Mom to light.

After a rest at the hotel, we went back out, stopping first to pick up some snacks for our early morning journey to Belgrade. Then we went back to Markale where we bought some fruit just as the stands were closing. We were on our way to a restaurant behind the market. Karuzo specialized in fish and vegetarian dishes, a rarity in the meat-filled Balkans. The place was small, and most people inside were foreigners (and women) - a few Americans and a mother-daughter pair from Scandinavia. We each had a glass of red wine from KOSOVO! I didn't know they produced wine, but it was really good. For dinner, I had red risotto - tomato sauce, zucchini and shrimp - while Mom ordered fruit and tofu risotto - chopped pieces of tofu, broccoli, carrots, eggplant, peppers, pears and raisins. It was an interesting combination of sweet and savory, but the spices were dead on and this was probably one of the best dishes we had all trip. During the dinner, I ran a small Passover Seder for us. We read from an abridged version of the haggah and didn't have matzoh (I'm allergic to it anyway), but it was still really nice to be able to celebrate. It was also probably the shortest Seder either of us had ever been to, especially considering that there were only two of us. We certainly did not do all four cups of wine: we wanted to be able to find the hotel again. We did do the ten plagues and read through Dayenu. I had originally wanted to attend a Seder in Belgrade or Sofia. I had even contacted Chabbad organizations there. However, with the change in dates because Mom's flight being delayed, we were not able to make it to either of those cities by Passover. I didn't think we'd even be able to have a Passover Seder, so this was a pleasant surprise.

Mostar: Becks and a Bridge

Our first night in Bosnia was a good one (for me).

First we had to find an ATM, which wouldn't have been difficult had we started looking on the "tourist street." We wound up there....after I asked for a "bankomat" five or six times. After grabbing some cash, we decided to go with a Lonely Planet recommendation (another thing I HATE doing) and went to ABC Pizza. I quickly scanned the menu and found a salad I could eat. It was topped with some "chicken chest" for protein. Mom ate a broccoli pizza and had a Becks! I was shocked that she wanted beer. I can't even remember the last time my mother drank beer.

She didn't finish her pizza, so we gave it to a begging woman on the street. The woman had a toddler with her and she immediately began to feed him. Then we stopped into a grocery store to stock up on some fruit and candy (life's necessities). We walked around by the old bridge, staging our own mini-photo shoot, before heading to bed. I had a great night's sleep, but Mom was woken up by birds chirping (at night) and dogs barking.

The next morning, she had a cold shower because she woke up last. We headed out and went to the Museum of Herzegovina Mostar, a small collection of folklore-like objects which showed us how people used to live in Herzegovina. The real reason for going to the museum was to see a video on the Mostar bridge. The original arched bridge was built between 1558 and 1566. During the summer, men used to jump off the bridge as part of a festival/celebration. The bridge was a symbol of the town, which is why Croat forces destroyed it during the 1993 siege on the town. (You can actually see the destruction in the video.) The town was able to rebuild the bridge and use it as a ploy to get tourists to visit. They even began staging the jumping contest again. The final part of the video showed the inauguration of the new bridge, a celebration which included fireworks. My mom and I were both interested by this: fireworks are a symbol of celebration and happiness, but, to us, fire is also a symbol of destruction and can be linked to the bombing that destroyed the bridge in the first place.

Nevertheless, the bridge has been rebuilt, the people of Mostar are proud of it and people from all over the world come to see it.

After our museum visit, we walked through a graveyard and checked out a mosque (from the outside). Most of the men buried there were in their 20s or 30s when they died. They were soldiers fighting on the Bosniak side (Bosnian Muslim) of the conflict. Souvenirs from the war were all over town: many buildings had pock marks where shells had exploded. We saw some "Sarajevo Flowers" - places in the sidewalk which look like a flower because a shell exploded (the flower's center) and the sidewalk has cracked around the area (forming the petals). Additionally, some buildings had signs, in Serbo-Croat and English, warning people not to enter because the building was still structurally unsafe.

Mostar is trying to rebuild, but the economy is not in great shape, so it's a slow process. They have succeeded with their bridge, which we visited again. Just before crossing, we stopped into a photography exhibit, a collection of photos from during the war. We ate lunch on the other side of the bridge. Mom had a "pizza sandwich" - a roll, eight inches in diameter, stuffed with fresh tomatoes and melted cheese. I had a salad of tomato, onion, hard-boiled egg, tuna and "trees" (which would up to be Balkan white cheese - a salty cheese, which I love).

After lunch, we had to cross the bridge again. As we approached it, we could see a "crowd" growing. A guy was getting ready to jump! He climbed over the guardrail, peeled off his shirt and plunged into the Neretva River, 65 feet below. Clearly, he had experience jumping, but it was still exciting for us to be able to see him do it. We wandered through the old Turkish-style market area and went to a house set up to represent the way of life during the Ottoman period.

We were only able to visit a few rooms, but the house was really nice. It was right on the river and one of the rooms had a series of low windows overlooking the water below. We met a Spanish couple inside; they were shocked that I spoke Spanish and happily accepted my offer to take their picture. After leaving the house (and putting our shoes back on - we had to remove them), we found a turtle living in the courtyard. My mom had noticed some lettuce on the ground, but we wouldn't figure out why it was there. I practically bumped into the turtle as I was making my way around the fountain to take a picture of the house.

After walking around Mostar a bit more, we headed to Nina's where her dad drove us to the bus station. We caught a bus to Sarajevo. The bus ride there was uneventful, we stopped so the bus driver could buy some fish from a stand along a river. When we arrived in Sarajevo, we bought tickets to Belgrade. Then we took a taxi to a hotel with an Aussie named Paula. She had been on our bus and recommended the place to us.

Getting to Mostar

Our bus from Dubrovnik left on time (pretty much all of our buses were punctual). The scenery was breathtaking - more coastline and islands just across sparkling-blue water. To get to Bosnia, we had to first leave Croatia and enter a small strip (about 10 miles long) of Bosnia coast. Our passports were checked, but not stamped.

Luckily, I knew this was going to happen and the man next to us spoke French. He was able to explain why we were stopping (coffee/cigarette break) and for how long. Mom made a wise-crack about wanting a Snickers bar (we were at a cafe and mini-market), and we were both shocked to find some in the strangely well-stocked market. I also found cookies from the UK and a few products imported from Japan.

After our Bosnian rest stop, we crossed the boarder again (this time back to Croatia), but still no stamps. Finally, we crossed a third time as we finally entered Bosnia proper. However, the boarder guard did not seem to think it necessary to stamp our passports. Thankfully, I was able to use French to ask the man across the aisle to ask the immigration guy for a stamp. I wanted to make sure that when we left Bosnia there would be no problems.

We arrived in Mostar and were greeted by the women from Hostel Nina (Nina and her mother). They offered us a room for a good price. I had originally wanted to stay near to the bus station because I figured that would be easy when we wanted to head to Sarajevo. However, Nina said they would drive us to and from the hostel, located closer to the center of town and the old bridge. Ordinarily, I would never chose a place to stay from a verbal description at a bus station, however, I had seen the place online and knew it was decent.

We had to share a bathroom, but it was very clean and we had access to free internet, so everything worked out.

In the car on the way to the hostel, Nina told us her story. She's 26-years-old and has just finished her law degree at the university in Mostar. However, there are no jobs there, so she and her mother are renovating their house to turn even more rooms into guest rooms. Because Nina speaks English well, she is able to communicate with guests. During the war, between 1994 and 1995, she and her mother went to Norway as refugees. Her father stayed behind in Mostar to take care of the house. We never really figured out what he did for work because everyone seemed to be home in the middle of the day.

Dubrovnik-Luxury by the Sea

The flight to Dubrovnik left on time (Mom was shocked). Along the way, the pilot enthusiastically pointed out Sardinia, Corsica, Rome, and ever island off the Croatian coast.

We landed and then walked from the plane into the airport. Once inside, we were stamped into the country, grabbed our bags and then exited. We boarded a bus headed for the Pile gate, as our hotel was just down the street from it. To get to the hotel, my crazy (I really love her) mother dragged her suitcase up two huge flights of stairs. Apparently, we could have gone up through the driveway or parking garage, but we didn't know that. The hotel was gorgeous, with views of the Adriatic Sea and the old city of Dubrovnik (the part inside the stone walls).

We dumped our stuff and set off in search of lunch. We both had omelets, which were as thin as crepes. Then we walked the 1.5 mile long wall (it's a big circle around the city). The views of the water and city were spectacular. Along the walk we stopped to take pictures and look at the houses. We could see a large cruise ship and an island just off of Dubrovnik. We stopped to rest, in one corner of the wall, after having climbed a steep flight of stairs (one of several).

Afterwards, we had more gelato! (Okay, we had just walked a lot, so we allowed ourselves to be bad....) Then, we ducked into the cathedral, but it was Palm Sunday and there were nuns inside praying....so, no pictures. Then we stopped to use a bathroom by the harbor. This was our first encounter with a turkish toilet. For those who have never had to use one, it's a lot of fun! (Just kidding.) You have to squat and aim over a small hole in the floor and try not to get your shoes...wet. These turkish toilets were actually luxurious. Inside each stall there was a sink, toilet paper, paper towels and soap. Usually I come across these toilets in Morocco or Bolivia where these luxuries are not provided. My mom found the toilet challenging, but she got better as the week progressed.

After relieving ourselves we went on a boat tour to see the coast from the sea. It was my mother's idea, which surprised me because she hates boats. From the water, we could see a hotel damaged during the 1991 siege. Serbian forces had damaged the facade, but the building still stood overlooking the sea. It's been abandoned ever since.

Back on dry land, we tried to find the synagogue, which wasn't open because it was the weekend. Instead we stopped into an embroidery shop and looked at some local handicrafts. Finally, we wandered back to the hotel, where room service delivered a "welcome treat," three little desserts, to us. We took naps and then went back to the old city for dinner at a restaurant in the harbor. I ate risotto and local oysters which weren't at all gritty and had a much less slippery texture than their Wellfleet cousins. Mom ordered grilled shrimp which arrived in their shells, head and all. She managed to peel and eat them without gagging too much. I was really proud of her for this (and the toilet experience!).

We happily slept late. Mom stayed in the room while I went to get breakfast. The woman in the breakfast room asked me where my mother was. I told her my mom was still in bed, to which she responded, "Oh, bless her!". Next, I returned to the old city to go to a very small market, where lavender, dyed eggs, dried fruits and some veggies, including weird, stalky asparagus were for sale. It was crowded with tour groups and I didn't buy anything.

After browsing, I went to the Dubrovnik Synagogue which was built in 1652 during a time when Jews were forced to live in a Ghetto inside Dubrovnik. Many Sephardic Jews came to Dubrovnik from Spain and Northern Africa after they were forced off the Iberian Peninsula. The synagogue was hit during the war in 1991; it's roof was damaged and had to undergo repairs. Inside I found a small space decorated in rich, blue colors. Many interesting metal sculptures surrounded the bimah and I was able to climb up to the women's gallery. The synagogue was located on the third story with the museum on the second. To access it, I had to climb up two flights of steep stairs (like everything else in Dubrovnik). At the top of the stairs were four mailboxes for donations. Each had a different Israeli city's name written on it announcing the destination of the money inside.

En route to the hotel to pick up my mother, I stopped at an internet cafe where two Italian 50-something women were also using computers. They chattered about in Italian: I realized they were talking about their Facebook news feeds. Yes, my mother had a Facebook account, but listening to these women made me chuckle. Middle-aged Italian women on vacation....what are they concerned about? Facebook!

I also peaked into a Catholic church, the one at the San Francisco Monastery. The church was nice, but nothing special. It wasn't built in the form of a cross, but was one large rectangular room. Before getting back to the hotel, I stopped into a DM (Drogerie Markt), a combination CVS and health-food store. I was delighted to find gluten-free pretzels and chocolate soy milk boxes (juice-box size). I stocked up on goodies and went to get my mom for lunch.

We ate overlooking a cove with sparkling teal waters. She had another omelet, I had octopus salad, and we split some veggie risotto. The food was delicious, but the spot was even better. From our table we could see the old city (we were just outside) and hundreds of tourists boarding their buses. We were not jealous of them. As we ate, we wrote post cards which we then mailed. Then we got more gelato and wandered through an Easter market held in the courtyard of a monastery. At the market there was a seven-foot tall Easter egg. It was painted with scenes of the four seasons. Easter eggs are painted and given as gifts in Croatia because the "hatching of chicken from eggs symbolizes Jesus Christ's coming out of the grave, resurrection and eternal life" (according to a booklet from the Croatian tourism board). We took our ice creams down to the water's edge and pick some rocks and sea glass. Then we headed toward the bus station.

We took a city bus to get to the international bus station, which was on the other side of the new part of Dubrovnik. Along the way we got to see more of the city, including the new harbor. It was nice to get a sense for the place, and to see that there's more to Dubrovnik than just the old, walled city. At the bus station, we bought tickets and mom knit while we waited for our bus to depart.

Barcelona-Gaudi=Genius or Mad Man?

So, after collecting my mother from the airport (at around noon instead of 8:30), we headed for the Barcelona metro and went into the city. Luckily I had gone to tourist information and picked up a map and lots of booklets. I had already figured out the route to the hotel and we got there quickly. We checked in, ate some snacks, and headed out to see the sights!

Our first stop was Antoni Gaudí's church, Sagrada Familia. Construction began in the 1880s and, according to wikipedia, is scheduled to be complete by 2026. Mom wanted to rest for a minute so she sat down on a curb while I changed my camera lens. I had warned her that the ground is seen as extremely dirty and people don't even let bare feet touch the floor here. Two seconds after she sat down, a man approached and asked (in Spanish) if she was alright or if she needed assistance. He was extremely concerned. (I cracked up.)

Gaudí was completely mad. The church has two facades: the front is a mess of details, curly cues, stained glass and botanically-inspired ornamental protrusions. The other side, which is much more modern, has statues representing the 14 stations of the cross. They aren't in order, but a guide identifies them.

The church was pretty cool to look at. We didn't bother entering because Gaudí really didn't do the inside and people had told me there was nothing much to see in there. After walking around the building we checked out an Easter market in a park across the street. We inquired about the six-foot long palm everyone seemed to be buying. Apparently, the Spanish take them to mass to be blessed, then the use them for decoration in their houses. Once the palm dies/dries out completely, they keep the attached toy to remind them of Easter.

Next, we walked toward Passeig de Gracia, stopping to look at a building, called the Casa de les Punxes (House of Spikes) by Puig i Cadafalch. Along the Passeig de Gracia, we checked out designer storefronts before entering La Pedrera, an apartment building Gaudí built between 1906 and 1912. It was designed to allow for maximum light to enter the apartments, one of which we toured. The interior was decorated with period furniture, and Mom especially enjoyed the bathroom. Two interior courtyards allowed light to enter the apartments from within the building, in addition to the windows overlooking the street. Upstairs, we got to see the attic which was like being in a large tunnel because of the system of arches Gaudí used to hold up the most intriguing part of the building, the roof. The chimneys were designed to carry smoke upward in addition to being well-designed. They actually looked like the smoke, and one was decorated with a mosaic of broken glass. It was also multi-level: different parts of the roof were up steep steps while others were lower. From the roof, we could see the Sagrada Familia and, just barely, the sea.

We continued our Gaudí tour by visiting Casa Batlló, located just down the Passeig de Gracia. This building was renovated by Gaudí between 1905 and 1907. He only worked on the facade, back patio, central staircase, attic laundry spaces, roof and one (very large) apartment. The other apartments are still used as private houses and offices. His apartment was meant to feel like it was underwater - wall treatments seem to move, cool tones were used in tile work and stained glass, almost no right angles exist. Again, he concentrated on light and designed the space to allow for maximum exposure.

The attic was a common space for all apartments - each family had a room for laundry facilities. Above it, the roof was similar to that of La Pedrera, except this one was on a smaller scale. The top of the roof had a dragon-like motif which could be seen from the street below.

For dinner we went to Cervesaria Catalunya, a destination for both locals and tourists. We got there just in time (as we were leaving, there was a line of people waiting for tables). We each had a Rioja (glass of red wine) and we split grilled shrimp, asparagus, mushrooms and a pepper, eggplant, and cheese tapa. The food was great, and because we were still in Spain ordering was no problem. (People around us were having some trouble.)

We decided that we had walked a lot during the day, so we treated ourselves to some Haagen Dazs for dessert. I'm lactose intolerant, but their coffee ice cream is well-worth a stomach ache. After our yummy dessert, we went off in search of the metro only to find that we had to go to a different entrance to get to our line. A woman told us to "follow the yellow line," which would have been good advice had there been a yellow line. We finally found the correct entrance and took the metro to our hotel stopping en route at a Corte Ingles.

Corte is one of my favorite things here in Spain. It's a department store, and can be found in all major cities. I never venture further than the supermarket where I can find wheat-free foods and imported goodies.

For day two in Barcelona, we continued our Gaudí tour by heading to Park Guell, a public park which was originally supposed to be an area of country houses. The plots didn't sell, so the government turned it into the park it is today. Gaudí designed benches, fountains, gates, the gate houses, and arched walkways. These spaces feature the curvy lines and recycled bits of broken glass which we had seen previously at the apartment buildings. To get to the park, we took the bus and climbed a hill. On the way back down, we saw the other path....a series of stairs and escalators up an extremely steep hill.

For lunch, we headed to el Mercado de Boquería, a huge produce, meat and fish market on Las Ramblas, a wide street with a pedestrian pathway down the middle. The mercado was incredible - we found all kinds of seafood including a tube-like shellfish about six inches in length. I also got some candied ginger and dried cranberries. For lunch, I had octopus and Mom had tortilla - a Spanish omelet filled with peppers and eggplant.

We crossed Las Ramblas and entered the gothic part of the city where we visited a synagogue. Not much of the synagogue remains, but records show a synagogue stood in the same place since 212AD. The building had been converted over the years, sometimes it was a residence, including the home of a fabric dyer. His dye-pots, from 1477, can still be seen.

Continuing through the Gothic Quarter, we passed the Cathedral and walked through Placa Sant Jaume, home to Barcelona's government buildings. Along the way we passed a store selling cartoon statues of famous people, including Bruce Springsteen and Hugh Laurie. As I stopped to take a photo, several pairs of tourists passed us, murmuring "Doctor House" in different accents.

We stopped for gelato (we were really bad that day) at a place which offered bizarre flavors, such as avocado. Mom got an almond cookie scoop and a mint scoop. I chose soy chocolate and mojito (lemon, lime, mint sorbet). We ate our gelato while sitting on the stoop of a bookstore. Then we walked around the old Roman walls and went to Placa de Rei where we took a nap on the steps.

We were getting tired, but wanted to go to a museum. We chose to visit the Museu Picasso. He was born in Malaga (southern Spain), but this was the only museum to open during his lifetime. It was started by friend and collector.

Leaving the museum, we went to the Estació de France, a train station, so I could take pictures of it....I love transportation....

Then, we wandered the Parc de la Citadella where we stopped to watch some crazy dogs play in a fountain. We were going to eat in Barceloneta or by the harbor, but decided to go back to the same tapas place we ate at the night before. I almost never do this, but the tapas were great and reasonably priced (for Barcelona) and we really didn't want a full meal.

The next morning, we woke up and took a 5:30 taxi to the airport. We checked in and ate breakfast before going through security. Next to us, an American slept on top of his luggage.

Barcelona-Meeting up with my Mom

I arrived at 12:30am Friday, April 3, 2009 in the very cool city of Barcelona. I knew immediately that I liked the place. It just had a je ne sais quoi....

Anyway, I found my hostel, brushed my teeth and went to bed. I had set my alarm clock (the one on my Spanish cell phone) for 7:30 which would give me enough time to meet my mom when her flight arrived. When I went to sleep, there were only two other people in my eight-bunk room and they were both asleep. I could tell that at least four other beds were occupied, leaving my bed and one more free.

At 2:30 I heard a noise which sounded vaguely familiar. I figured it was my alarm clock, so I started to find my pants and shoes. I figured it was time to go meet my mom. However, the noise didn't stop (my alarm only goes off for a few seconds). I then realized that it was actually my phone ringing, not my alarm sounding. I never remember what my phone sounds like, so I almost never realize it's ringing (okay, the truth is that it almost never rings). I missed the phone call, but could see that it was a number I knew, my dad's home office line.

I tried to listen to his voicemail, but the stupid Movistar machine voice told me I had to set up my voicemail if I wanted to listen to the message. It wanted me to record my name for my personal greeting. I'm still half-dressed and in bed at this point, so I can't really talk because I don't know how many people are in the room (it's dark). This means if you were to call me, I'll probably miss the call and you'll get a message that says, "You've reached the voicemail box of (silence..........)."

Anyway, I finally get to the message and I hear my dad's voice calmly telling me my mother's flight is so delayed that she is going to miss the plane to Dubrovnik and that I have to call him asap. I can't call on my Spanish phone because I don't have enough money on it to make international calls (it's a pay-as-you-go phone). I get dressed and start looking for my American cell phone, which is in my backpack. At this point, my dad starts calling me again causing my phone to ring loudly. I answer and go out into the hallway. They little bit of light that enters as I open the door allows me to see that there are still only two other sleeping people in the room. While I'm in the hallway talking to my dad, two more people enter the room and go to sleep.

We work out the changes. My mom and I wound up staying in Barcelona for two nights. I called the airline to change our flight for to the next departure for Dubrovnik, Sunday morning at 8am. It actually worked out really well because we got to see Barcelona, which was a really cool city.

By 4am, I went back to bed. I was woken at 7am when two more people entered the room to go to sleep. I then slept until 9am, went and found some Starbucks (!!!) and did some other errands before heading to the airport. Because my mom was late, I was able to go to the Banco de España and change some pesetas (leftover from my father's travels in the 70s and 80s) to Euros.