Jerusalem, Bethlehem and a lot of buses

Last weekend I had the pleasure (and the courage!) to undertake a weekend trip to Jerusalem. I left my office in Amman (thanks to the generosity of my boss) at 2pm. The taxi to Tabarbour during Ammani rush hour was a pain, but then I had to wait another 45 minutes for the 'serveece' (shared taxi) to fill up. We were finally on the road to Jssr Almalak Alhussein (King Hussein Bridge or how it is called on the other side: Allenby Bridge). That was just the beginning... Then a first passport control on the Jordanian side, a very long and slow ride over the rather unspectacular King Hussein Bridge. Then a first, a second, a third and a fourth passport control, two luggage scanning and the according queues. Not to forget the very unfriendly “Why?!“ when I asked my passport not to be stamped.

There I was! Just a very expensive shared taxi ride away from Jerusalem. First sign to show me that we weren't in Jordan any more: “Please, put your seatbelts on!“ In Jerusalem, I walked along the dark streets, and despite my initial apprehension I felt rather safe. While I was waiting for my friends in a coffee shop, a very illuminated New Zealander interrupted me in my chilled latte sipping to talk to me about God, but Jerusalem was the last place on earth I would let myself be told that Christianity was the only way to heaven! Anyway, I was quite happy when my friends called me to let me know that they had also made it to Al-Quds, and it was time to explore the city, at least the bars and restaurants. Unluckily a thunderstorm and hail welcomed us.

On our first day we decided to wander the streets of the Old City, to see all the different quarters. It was a wonderful feeling to be walking again. Anyone who has been to Amman will have felt this need for walking, as in the Jordanian capital, it is not really a possibility: there are no pavements, the streets are broad so that you can't walk in the shadow of a building and anyway taxis are cheap. The many shops and small streets of the Old City made us feel like we were roaming around a post card. Our first thought was 'this is how I imagined the Middle East' and not the traffic, the dirt, the modern buildings we see every day! We went of course to see the wailing wall and the spirituality there was incredible.

However, unlike many visitors I did not succumb to the famous Jerusalem syndrome: no spiritual awakening. I thought that here out of all places I could have felt something, but surprisingly other places in the World have made me feel much more near to something divine. Then again a Jewish guy in our Hostel said that he had to look into the mirror every morning and tell himself that he was Jewish, as he saw so many people  of different faiths, who believed so strongly and whose experiences in Jerusalem were so incredible.

On day two we undertook a trip to Bethlehem in the West Bank and against every UN security statement we went by bus, which in these times of increasing tensions are the main target of extremists. Getting there was not a problem and I was amazed by Bethlehem. It is not very big, but it has a very nice city centre and after a delicious meal at Al-Hafteem we visited the Nativity Church. It is odd to see the context of a story you know since you are little. Jesus' birth is one of the first stories I ever heard and seeing the cave where it is supposed to have taken place was just unreal. It was like stepping into my little illustrated bible.

Then we saw another attraction of Bethlehem... the Wall. Being German, Walls bring up deep feelings, and seeing that wall just made me feel like vomiting. The Israeli soldiers were probably pointing their sniper at us from the watchtower. To get back to Jerusalem, we had to go through a checkpoint, that was described to us as still human, but it was so eerie. The worst was that the Palestinians were treated much more severely than us, the guard barely looked at my passport whereas the Palestinians were checked in detail and had to leave their finger prints.

In the evening we went to a bar in the New City of Jerusalem and suddenly it felt like being in another world. A world that looked a lot like ours. This bar could have been anywhere in Europe. How could all this make sense. The horror stories you hear about how Palestinians are treated and the bit you see of it versus the normalcy of life in new Jerusalem. Where are the bad guys?

The next day, we crossed part of the country and on our bus journeys we passed by so many IDFs: they were just teenagers with guns. One of them stuck her tongue out at my friend who works at UNRWA. Wow.

The journey back was incredibly long and difficult, accompanied by a little nervous breakdown of mine because of the stubbornness of the border police, the angry Italians and the enormous group of Koreans that somehow had priority.

It felt good to be back in Jordan.

Amman vs Dubai

During the Easter weekend I had the chance to come back to Dubai for a few days, but this time I had to realise that my perspective had changed, a lot.

Indeed coming from Jordan, my experience of Dubai was quite the opposite from what I had seen and felt a year ago. Everything was so much less conservative than in Jordan. You can walk around without having all the men staring at you although last year I found Dubai quite disturbing on that point.

The traffic, I recall, had seemed to be a huge mess and last Thursday, when I arrived, I found the traffic to be slow, quiet and even boring. Where was the honking, the spontaneous lane-building and the weird (or non-existent) priority system?

Also, I really experienced the arrogance and pride that lies all over Dubai. Just to illustrate the local mentality... you don't have to go grocery shopping. You can just stop in front of the grocery store, honk and wait for them to get out, ask for what you want and get it for you. One girl told me the battery of her phone had run out, so she had just bought a new phone for 100 AED (20 €) to make one phone call. People from Dubai don't seem surprised at that attitude; personally, I am. And I hope I will never think that way - I better not move to the Emirates then, cause apparently the system sucks you in!

the view from Medinat Jumeira

One day, the black gold will run out and this country will have enormous difficulties and I really do hope that they will start using the amazing power the region also has: the sun. Solar panels are still very expensive there, but Insh'allah some powerful and wealthy people will start to think responsibly. Not like the generations before them, who were taken by the same fever: to build even higher and even more luxurious, defeating every natural rule.

But however much money they will spend, my heart will always beat for Amman!

Al-Urduniyya

I'm sitting in a taxi, driving from first circle to Yasmeen, where I live. It is dark already and the warm breeze feels good on my skin. Amman is my new home: Somehow, I have woken up one morning considering all these strange new things as normalcy... the chaotic traffic, the car honking, the staring men, directing the taxi driver yameen (right) and shmal (left) to this or that duwwar (roundabout), hearing the Muezzin at 5am, hearing the usual „Kefek?“ „Shu Akhbarek“ „Kulshi Tammam“ etc. There also is the distinct (horrible) music the gas vending car makes or the amazing food... I have grown very fond of labane ( a form of thick white cheese) and za3ter (a thyme mix) and my everlasting love for cheese finds satisfaction in Halloum!

However, for a country where you hear “No problem, no problem” (with the accent it sounds more like 'no broblem, no broblem') all day long, things are really complicated. You can't really use public transport, because they not only give the directions only in Arabic ( and although I can read the script, I am still very slow, especially when it comes to reading a sign on a driving bus...) there are no clear bus stops (I'm not even talking about a map!): a random queue of people on the side of the road is generally a good sign indicating that a bus will stop here. At the beginning, I struggled a lot with this, because for me, all this was totally irrational, as many things here. Organisation works differently, even when it just concerns a few people and their plan to meet up. You spend more time discussing how you will organise than it takes for all of you to gather in one place. But to my greatest astonishment, things do work out in the end. All this made me acquire a great deal of patience!  أصبر الجميل  (Patience is beautiful)!

When coming here, I wasn't very sure what it meant to be a woman, living by herself in Jordan. At first I struggled to see the limits of security and the limits of appropriate behaviour. I started being overly careful, and I am sometimes still not sure if I am exaggerating with my apprehension. I can walk along the streets at night in Jebal Amman without thinking of any danger, but then a random cat that comes out of a dark corner scares the hell out of you and you feel confronted with your own vulnerability, not really knowing what to do with it. People from home always ask me what I wear and whether I wear a headscarf. Although a vast majority of girls do wear hijaabs and some women with niqaabs wander the streets of Amman, I don't feel weird by exposing my hair. However, I dress modestly, which means that I try to cover my legs down to half-calf at least and my arms below the elbow. Especially when you are going around by yourself using taxis, precaution is better. When I go out with a friend who has a car, I can allow myself to wear something shorter, although I have lost the appeal to it, I must say. Long clothes make you feel protected and comfortable.

I still feel like I have a lot to learn about the culture here and I often have these awkward moments. Such as yesterday, when my friend told me to dry my hair as wet hair was a sign of preceding adult activity...

Sunrise in Wadi Rum

I haven't talked about the country's beauty yet and it is something one must talk about! The several places I have seen here have made me hold my breath. The Dead Sea offers a beautiful and calm panorama, with amazing colours at sunset! The stones in the water shine in tones of red and orange as if they were from a different planet. Of course, every visitor has to get the floating experience but I did resist the picture with the newspaper in my hands. The taste of the water is awful though. I had imagined it to be just very salty but even very very very salty doesn't get near the taste experience that water represents. It is that salty that it gets bitter! Nothing you would want to cook your spaghetti in!

When we to drove south via Wadi Musa towards Aqaba, we passed by the most impressive panorama. We didn't have the time to stop at Petra, but I will go there eventually! Instead, we went to Wadi Rum, to spend a night in the desert alongside the (local?) Bedouins. It was also an opportunity to drive a 4x4 in the desert, to see the sunset illuminate the red landscape, to eat some traditional Bedouin food, to hear their songs, to collect wood, to make fire and to freeze during the night! The silence in the desert is truly impressive and the chant of the birds in the morning was beautiful. Somehow we decided that we wanted to do a camel tour and although it was one of the shortest of the ones they proposed, the pain I subsequently felt in my lower body has accompanied me back to Amman and has stayed with me for a few days!

Coming back to Amman was really a step back into civilisation after the desert! For me, it felt like coming home...

Amman

Hasta la vista!!!

As I am writing this I'm sitting on the plane taking me from Malaga to Birmingham :

This is my goodbye to Spain. I arrived about five months ago and a lot has happened since the moment I got my huge and heavy luggage out of the car to get them up three floor in the pension; but it feels like it was yesterday. I have met so many amazing and interesting people in my time here and I have seen wonderful places!


Recently I have done a little trip to Seville, where I visited Raf and Ned again and which enabled me to see some other places in Seville. I was actually really positively surprised by the Alcazar Palace. Having visited the Alhambra and actually seeing it every day has made me a bit smug and I didn't feel that I missed out in not discovering the Alcazar when we first visited Seville. Not only was it free, but it was truly beautiful! The gardens were astonishing and the palace itself shows a magnificent architecture. For any visit of Seville, I would definitely recommend this place.

Two days and an exam later, I went to Madrid with Biggi. We stayed with a couchsurfer, who luckily lived in Chueca, in the city centre. The wonderful location enabled us to discover the Spanish capital by foot. The perfect weather made the Retiro park such an enjoyable experience and after that we were off to the Prado. As we had booked the tickets online, we weren't aware of the fact that students from the European Union could enter for free, but the angry counter lady didn't want to refund us the money. However any expense in Madrid was justified by the fact that we were living for free...

The Rastro Flea Market wasn't as great as I had pictured it, as I was comparing it to Mauerpark in Berlin.(Yes, Berlin might also have made me a tad smug) There were mainly tourists and only a few stalls actually had good offers, like the 2€ jumper I purchased. I was also disappointed by the Plaza de Toros. The corrida building is very beautiful indeed, but not only was the (free) taurine Museum closed for works, the visit of the arena also cost 7 Euros, which was clearly too much. As we walked back, we stumbled upon a calligraphy exhibition in the Casa Arabe, which made up for the failure at the Plaza de Toros.

But let's get back to the good parts of the city, as indeed I found the stay extraordinary. We walked around in a more alternative quarter of the city, where the amount and diversity of bars and cafés were astonishing. The presence of street art reminded me of my dear Berlin and I instantly felt homey. I will always be a big-city-girl...

Cupcakes in Madrid

I am now left with melancholic thoughts about Granada - So many people and places I will miss, and of course Miguel's Spaghetti Carbonara ;)
 
It is time to start a new life.

Sierra Nevada or The Walk Of The Drunken Penguin

I'm standing on the platform of Granada train station and other than sweating in my light jumper, I have a wonderful view upon the white summits of the Sierra Nevada.

I can barely believe that two days ago, I was there, in a ridiculous 70's-style ski suit, trying not to make a total fool of myself while going down the ski slopes.

Talking about not making a fool of myself...

It is a universally acknowledged that things like skiing should be learned when one is young, because the older one becomes, the more difficult it gets. I mean now I'm 5'8“, the ground is much lower down. Also, too many scenarios were appearing in front of my eyes. What if I miss this turn? What if I skied there? In how many ways could I break my neck? Call me paranoid, but I just couldn't help it. Howver, thanks to peer pressure and some schizophrenic pep talk, I could gather enough courage to face the first piste.

As every fall was accompanied by laughter in the beginning, it wasn't too bad. Taking things with a smile usually gets me further. However, foolishness, recklessness or arrogance made me follow my two experienced friends onto the top of the mountain. The signs “Pista roja- Expertos solo”(red piste- experts only) really should have put me off, but for some reason they didn't.

There I was, standing on top of the Veleta, the second highest mountain in the Sierra Nevada, with a breathtaking view upon the Mediterranean Sea and the misty coast of Africa. But there was no way I could ski down the mountain, in snowplough that would have been sheer suicide. So there I was, all alone (technically there were people passing by, but that didn't change my condition). As I took off my skis to think of a way to get myself out of the situation, a couple of men stopped and asked me what I was doing. I was really lucky that they helped me, as I was really starting to panic. We first asked at the chair lift whether I could go downhill with it, but as chilled as some Spaniards might appear, this one was just not to be convinced. It was forbidden. Full Stop. Then one of the men had the patience to stay with me during the very long hour I went down the mountain in the most embarrassing way possible: step by step, sideways.

This taught me a great lesson of humility and also of thankfulness. My saviour didn't accept anything for probably saving my life. I was really amazed by this man. I will probably never meet him again, but I'll always be grateful for that.

After all these frights and emotions, a lunch in the sunshine was well-deserved. Then I actually realised in what danger I had been, because if someone fell down the steep piste, they would stop only some 700m downhill, broken ribs being the least of their worries.

Now it was time to do the right thing: go on the green pistes, the learner's section. I finally felt like I belonged there. I wasn't the worst skier for once! (yes, really!) At that point skiing changed from being totally frightening to actually being fun! Now, all I want is go back and try my best.

For now, I have a rather less glorious memory from our trip: severe muscle pain. Hence the title of this post, as I do look like a drunken penguin when I try to walk. There are days where I hate living on the 3^rd floor without a lift!

Now I am in the train, the beautiful Andalucian landscape is passing by, the weather is just amazing. There has been constant sunshine for the last week and I look forward to some more sunny days in Seville, where I should arrive in a couple of hours.

I have indeed miles to go before I sleep...

Interlude

The easiest and most unexpected of illnesses, that will sometimes take you by surprise or slowly creep up to make you shiver: Loneliness. It has little to do with being alone, because you can feel lonely amidst people. We all have our low moments... my personal remedy is making plans. What will my next holiday destination be? Who could I surprise with an unexpected gift or a favour? What part of the city could I discover or rediscover?

For now, I am trying to enjoy my last weeks in Granada and see all the things I can before leaving. Unfortunately exams and revision are taking a lot of my time.

My first travel plans should take me to Seville and Madrid. Then I'm visiting a few friends in England before returning to the homeland France in March. Sometimes I wish that all the people I love would live in the same town, it would make it such a wonderful life! Then again, that is really unlikely to happen and it is great when it enables me to travel around!

Last week, My terrace, Granada

C'est Panam!

Now some thoughts on Paris, as I have to admit that some readers were right to argue that parts of my previous post were „boring“, „like reading a geographical atlas“. So I will try to be different from Google Maps.

It is a great city to visit. Big news! Of course, there are so many beautiful sights and interesting museums, but you can find information about them in any travel guide. I also feel that Paris is trying to sell a dream: a dream of beautiful liberated women but also a dream of couply happiness. Call me a cynic, but those padlocks on the Pont des Arts with the lovers' names on them are just soooooo ( how many vowels are acceptable?) romantic and what a dream it is to stand on the Eiffel tower kissing your loved one! Urgh.

Paris is so much more than just the postcard side of it. There are many other aspects to it. The cultural diversity of the banlieues and the many arrondissements is easily overlooked. The Paris I like is the Paris of my cousin: Young people, going out every day of the week, interested in arts and independent cinema. That's where I can imagine to fit in, opposed to being squeezed onto an Eiffel-tower postcard. All what's of interest is fashion, beauty and stylishness. Also, the social problems I associate with Paris are quickly forgotten when talking about the 'City of Love'. Of course there is a often a big difference between visiting a place and living there, but I feel in Paris the divide between the two couldn't be wider.

I also have to admit that rediscovering Paris was a great experience. I remember visiting it with Adna about three and a half years ago and I was probably the worst guide imaginable. Criticising every single thing, acting unimpressed in front of every beautiful building: “I guess it's nice”. My poor poor Adna, I feel for her now and I regret being such a terrible host. Since then I have grown up and I have gained perspective on France... and I have already told Adna that I owe her a great city visit! 

Capital Hopping

My year 2011 started with an amazing opportunity for me: rediscovering Paris. Indeed, being from Normandy, I have over the years developed hostile feelings towards this city. This was also due to fact that Paris has always been a stopover point for me: from one train station to another, or to the airport. Thus I was far from having the postcard image of Paris, that we like to see depicted in Hollywood films.

However last Monday I was off to meet two friends from Granada, Miguel and Diego, both of Latin American origin, touring through Europe during the Christmas holidays. I was going to visit Paris with them and try my best to act as a guide. Luckily I had my cousin Carole's support in that, so that we saw a lot during our first day there. When I say 'a lot', it clearly is an understatement. Those who know Paris will understand how much walking the following route entails: Starting from the Sacré-Coeur, we walked to Saint Lazare, then on the roof terrace of the Printemps to enjoy the view (my secret tip if you are visiting Paris!), then down the Avenue de l'Opéra, to the Louvre, along the Seine towards Notre-Dame, after seeing the inside of the cathedral: Beaubourg and Les Halles, back along the Seine, passing by the Louvre again, through the Jardin des Tuileries, along the Place de la Concorde with its mysterious obelisk, stopped by the Palais de l'Elysée, where Nicolas wasn't waiting for us with a cup of coffee (huge disappointment here!), further up the Champs Elysées to the Arc de Triomphe, then we walked to the Trocadéro, took the mandatory picture from the Palais Chaillot, 

then down to the Eiffel tower, then up the Eiffel tower, where it slowly got dark and we had a magnificent view over Paris, better than during the foggy day! then back to the Champs Elysées, until we found a coffee shop. This was the moment we finally took the metro to have some traditional French food (galettes, crêpes and cidre, I wasn't trying to trick them into tasting Norman food at all!).

Now for those who didn't quite grasp the distance, I checked on the map, we walked about 18 km with 3 degrees Celsius and a biting wind outside! We were truly exhausted!

Next day: The Louvre. After queuing a few times, we got our (under 26 EU Residents) free tickets and then our 6 hour visit started. I just like to point out that a lot of the things we saw were stolen, and I don't care that it is many years ago, they were still stolen. From Greek statues, to Egyptian tombs, to Mesopotamian lions, to French paintings and Italian paintings, Dutch paintings, German paintings and so on. There even was a contemporary art exhibition ( to my greatest enjoyment). If you can ever call a museum huge it's this one and after all the times I've been there, I still discover new things. What got me thinking this time is the nipple-pinching painting. Yes, you did read correctly nipple-pinching. (see below). The “Portrait présumé de Gabrielle d'Estrées et de sa soeur la duchesse de Villars” (Portrait presumed to be of Gabrielle d'Estrées and her sister the Duchess of Villars) was painted around 1594. The odd gesture still makes me wonder. The official version is that the pinching should refer to Gabrielle's pregnancy, fair enough. I am still trying to imagine the circumstances in which the portrait was painted: can you imagine posing like that for a few hours? Anyhow, such a representation would be more than shocking nowadays: it wouldn't even make it on US live TV!)

After the Louvre, it was time for me to go. My night train was leaving from Gare d'Austerlitz and was taking me to Madrid. The two (very intense) days in Paris reconciled me with this city and I was again able to see its beauty and I finally understood the fascination it provokes among visitors from all over the world.

The next day, 10am I was stepping outside the Metro in front of Puerta del Sol, Madrid. It was raining.

I only had a few hours to do all the necessary sight seeing. I realised later, that I was lucky to be there on Spanish Christmas, called Reyes Magos, (6 of January) because there were many people around even though most of the shops were closed. Full of energy, I walked from the Puerta del Sol to the Plaza Mayor, passing by really nice streets and buildings. After a little stop at the tourism office, I was on my way to the Cathedral and when I got there, I saw a lot of people crowding around what happened to be the Royal Palace. Curious, I went to stand with the people, waiting for whatever might occur. It took me little while to realise that we were all waiting for the Spanish King. I was quite impressed, first royalty I've seen, even if it was from far away. Then, once he was inside, the guards paraded around the Palace, it was very impressive!

Then I had a little walk past the Plaza de Espana, up to the Temple of Debod and then across the Plaza de Oriente back to the Puerta del Sol...

My very short stay was intense and definitely convinced me to plan a real trip to the capital, his time for a few days!

After five hours in the coach, I arrived in Granada. Finally, the familiar streets greeted me with their crowdedness and festive atmosphere. I have less than 2 months left in Granada and I really want to make the most of it!

Happy New Year!

This year has been very eventful and I have seen a lot of places, more places than any year before 2010 actually. 8 countries on 3 continents. That’s what I call a good year. Now of course, I don’t escape rating the best memories of 2010, but, as expected, this is not the easiest of task.

Best City I've lived in: Berlin. This city has charmed me in any possible way and the three months that I lived there were just incredible. I found there all I needed: an international crowd; many cafés, bars, chill-out places, clubs; nature; beautiful buildings; modern areas; art, loads and loads of art and coffee shops, where I can rest and write. I know I will come back.

Best Place I've visited: Ireland. Even if we were there only for a short week, the country has left an indelible impression on me. The scenery, the people and the atmosphere bewitched me and I want to see more of it!

One place I absolutely want to go: Italy! Italy! Italy! I haven’t met many people who haven’t been there, and above all I have met so many Italians and Neapolitans in Granada but somehow, in all my back and fourth across Europe, I have never managed to go there and I am very ashamed! So hopefully next summer it will be my time to throw a coin into the Trevi fountain and eat a Pizza in Naples!

Let 2011 be for all of us a year of adventure and discovery! I wish you all the best and I hope that you are happy, joyful and in good health!

Happy New Year! Bonne Année! Frohes neues Jahr! Prospero año nuevo! Felice anno nuovo! Un An Nou Fericit! Szczęśliwego Nowego Roku! Gott nytt år! Щастлива Нова Година! 新年おめでとうございます ! ! سنة سعي Onnellista uutta vuotta! Gott nýggjár! Próspero aninovo!

(can you guess all the languages? ;) )

And in Uzbek, because I like how it looks: Yangi yilingiz bilan! :D

المغرب -Morocco

Saturday morning just began, people dressed in fancy clothes crossed our path as we made our way to the coach, heavily loaded with our luggage. The coach took us to Tarifa, where we embarked onto the ferry to Tangier.

After seeing a beautiful sunrise on the Mediterranean and the rock of Gibraltar and surviving the long queues on a rocking boat, we arrived in sunny Morocco.

For the afternoon, we decided to just get a feeling of the city and make our first experiences with the culture there. After walking through the medina, we realised that getting directions is not as easy as we thought it would be. The many people we asked were really friendly and one even walked a few streets with us, but the streets were just a maze - and some people were so friendly that they gave us directions without even knowing where the place was!

Tangier has a very nice old medina, where the many stores offer you a variety of curiosities, clothes, jewellery, spices and so on. We also had the opportunity to walk through the wealthier area of the Quartier Marshan, where we went to the famous Café Hafa to enjoy a, mildly earthy, mint tea. The Café has a beautiful view upon the sea and the atmosphere on the terraces is chilled and welcoming. Another highlight of the city is the Qasbah, a palace, marked by the many eras of occupation of Tangier.

On Monday, we were off to Casablanca, a far bigger port in the South with about five millions inhabitants. As we only arrived by night, the option of visiting looked rather grim. But nevertheless, half following a map, desperately looking for road sign (I saw one in the whole night!), we reached the old medina. On the way we tried not to be run over by the many cars, taxis and bikes, but following the locals when crossing the road turned out to be the best option. In one of the small shops, Dea and Simon started to talk to a shop owner and through asking for a nice restaurant, we got talking with a few of the shop owners, they brought us tea as we conversed half in English, half in translated French. Réda, one of them, offered to show us around, once he could close the store. We accepted the offer, and after an invigorating shawarma, we were off listening to his explanations about the city. We walked up to the Hassan II Mosque, one of the biggest mosques in the world. It was really impressive, with the sea right next to it. With a car we then went to the ‘côte’ as they called it. This completely clashed with the poor districts we had seen from the train. It was just a long range of clubs, bars and cafés. The entry and alcohol prices were clearly above our standards.

The next day, early morning, Hannah and I were in the train to Fès, the second largest city, along the Atlas Mountains. The atmosphere there was very different from what we had seen in Tangier or Casablanca, and was more similar to what we had imagined Morocco to be. With a taxi we reached the Old Medina and our four hours walk through the labyrinth started. After a while, we had clearly no idea, where we had started, but we knew, a taxi would always bring us back to the train station. We tried to avoid all the men suggesting to guide us or bring us to the famous tanners. Stubborn as we were, we decided to find it by ourselves, how hard could it be? Roaming the little streets, we discovered craftsman, knife-sharpeners, cauldron-makers and many more. At some point we did stop a couple of tourists to ask if they knew the way to the tanners and they gave us the general direction. Finally, very near our target, a boy dragged along and took us into a shop, from which terrace we had a great view onto the tanning pools. In the shops they were trying to convince us to leave our last dirhams, but our budget was rather tight and we managed to come back without a supplementary piece of luggage and an empty bank account. At the end, we stopped at a huge square, where many locals were just sitting on the stairs, talking, gambling, watching the children play.

Another 5 hours train journey through the darkness brought us back to Tangier. We were alone in the compartment and the occasional power cuts weren’t exactly reassuring, but we made it home safely. I have to admit a mildly shameful thing: It was dark and rainy, and we were starving. We didn't know where to get food and had been told by the police not to walk along the road that led to our hotel. What would we have done without capitalism? Indeed our friendly taxi driver quite happily drove us through the McDrive. We weren't proud.

The last day, a taxi drove us to the Cap Spartel, where the Mediterranean meets the Atlantic Ocean, and to Hercules Cave. We had some good photo opportunities, but in the end, it just felt overdone in a way I didn’t like.

We used the last moments to enjoy the sunshine and then embarked on a long return journey: angry Spaniards at the port who forced the board staff’s barrier, 90 minutes of rough seas and many hours in the coach.

Now, I’m back in Granada, where summer pretended to come back for a few days ( mid-December, sunshine, 25°), but my heart already wishes I was on the road again.

I have miles to go before I sleep…

Andalucia: Malaga and Cordoba

In my time in Granada, I have had a little time to see the region and its variety is truly amazing!

Malaga is a coast town with a beautiful city centre, but one cannot stop oneself from comparing it to Granada. Indeed many rivalries exist between the different cities here and every person defends his or her hometown. Although I try to behold some kind of objectivity, my bias would always go towards Granada. It looks more like a postcard: all the streets are cleaned, fewer broken doors or dirty alleys, everything is cute and made cute. However, in Malaga a wind of authenticity blows. You can feel that people are actually living here and that it is not made for eager visitors. The city is of course far bigger, which changes the conditions, but I enjoyed very much the shopping area in the centre and the big pedestrian streets. But I will have to truly criticise the beach and the coastline, which is ugly. Harsh words, but the truth is ugly sometimes and it is a real shame what the fast development of tourism in Andalucia has done to Malaga.

I have to stop for a while from my accounts and tell you where I am sitting right now. I am typing on my netbook in a teteria in Calle Calderería (Granada), where oh so many tea shops are. Outside it is raining in a really depressing way, the tea shop is empty, the owner is playing on his phone, waiting for anything to happen. I sip from my 'Egyptian Tea', a mix of green tea and mint, while the fountain noises and the arabic tunes mix into a harmonious melody. The decorum is slightly overdone with pillars, cushions, low lamps and cachimbas (sheeshas) standing around, and it has not managed to hide the showing beams, typical in Andalucian houses. I'm sitting in a constructed Arabic reality, nevertheless I start dreaming about the country that awaits me in less than five months- Jordan. I have started preparing my stay there and although I have still a lot of time to improve my Arabic language skills and to overcome my ignorance of how things work there, fears and doubts have started invading my mind - but they cannot dampen my excitement.

But let's get back to Spain. The next city on the line was Cordoba. It is postcard-y in a similar way to Granada. Its cultural heritage from the Moors is being dramatically overused in the many souvenir shops and one could wonder how good the actual integration of the Muslim population is working.

On a more joyful note, the beautiful Mezquita-Cathedral just gob-smacked me when we entered from the orange tree patio. The many columns inside, the keyhole-shaped doors, the mosaics funnily mix with the catholic altars, chapels, portraits, graves and treasures. It's a strange harmony, where one house of prayer has made space to another. It nearly made me forget the disastrous fights and persecutions that occurred here a few centuries ago.

If you have some time left in Cordoba, a visit of the Alcazar is definitely worth it, small spiral stairs get you to the highest tower, where you can enjoy a beautiful view upon the city. For a short time visit, one must at least go on the Roman Bridge, that is located within a small nature reserve and offers you some good photo opportunities. My personal advice would be to go there at sunset, at that moment the colours are just magnificent.

For a chilled afternoon walk, the small picturesque streets offer a perfect environment and street artists at every corner will just enhance that experience.

Me gusta...

Me gusta cuando Desi tiene las mismas ansias de comida y come turron de su pantalon,
Me gusta cuando le llamo gordito a Miguel y le doy chocolate una hora despues,
Me gusta cuando olvido que Isa se fui,
Me gusta cuando Katerina es la primera de sonreirme por la mañana,
Me gusta cuando Ines y Hannah establecen teorias de nubes, castores y simbolos con migo,
Me gusta cuando Simon nos enseña palabras como ‘schlumpi’,
Me gusta cuando Vincenzo se pone italiano,
Me gusta cuando mis seres queridos me visitan,
Me gusta cuando oigo una ‘s’ en Andalucia,
Me gusta cuando los parajos hacen tanto ruido por las plazas,
Me gusta cuando tomo el sol por la teraza,
Me gusta cuando veo a la maravillosa ciudad en la que vivo,
Me gusta cuando Trini me habla de la cultura española,
Me gusta cuando Vera quiere comprar ‘Quality Music’,
Me gusta cuando estoy en Skype con los del otro mundo,
Me gusta cuando Wilko me mando de teñarme el pelo blanco,
Me gusta cuando Marie hace caras que estan totalmente pixelizadas,
Me gusta cuando Samira, Anne y yo no entendemos la traduccion del vocabulario,

Me gusta… Granada.



I have miles to go before I sleep...

Sprinting through Seville

Last weekend, I experienced what was less of a mini-break, but rather a 24-hour marathon through Seville... The four hours in the coach, driving through every single pueblo in Andalucia were a pain, but my two flatmates and I forgot about it as soon as we arrived in Seville. We walked along the river, admiring the colourful riverside until we got to the Torre del Oro. Not much of the gold is left, but, hey, old buildings are awesome!

I have to say that I was a bit dazzled to be in a big city again, with loads of cars and huge roads, but once we were in the city centre, it was truly beautiful. We watched a huge wedding coming out of the cathedral and joined the crowd of passers-by who was applauding and shouting their wishes. The shopping streets were full of people. What confused me at the start were the big linen cloths stretched across the streets from rooftop to rooftop. Desi solved the mystery explaining they meant to protect from the sunshine. A sunshine that we didn't get to see until Sunday, because rain had accompanied our coach trip and had stayed with us in Seville.

After we got the general flair, we took a taxi to go to our charming couch hosts... Raf and Ned unfortunately lived a bit outside the city centre, in such an obscure (!) place, that the taxi driver didn't know the address... After a bit of confused explaining, where I probably broke about 20 grammatical rules of the Spanish language, the man got us to the right area. Unfortunately he wasn't too right about where he left us and we walked in the pouring rain... but in the end we made it and had a chilled evening around a few bottles of beer and some serious catching-up!

The next day, the guys left to Lisbon, and we only made it to the centre by midday. This is when the sprinting  really began... from the still closed cathedral to the castle, where we decided that the queue was too long, back to the cathedral, which once inside was more than impressive. Through our eaves-dropping on German guided tours we understood, that the Catedral Santa Maria de la Sede, was the third biggest cathedral in Europe and in the World, after the St Peter's Dome in Rome and St Paul's in London. Indeed the building is breath-taking and the side chapels, which sum up to a number of 80, are all different and beautiful in their own way. We were also able to have a look at Christopher Columbus' grave, or one of them because apparently other places claim to hold some of his remains. 7 years ago, they cross-checked Columbus' DNA with his brother's and proved that the 150 grams lying in the cathedral actually belonged to the explorer.

The next step for us was the Plaza de España, a great piece of architecture, crowded with tourists but we didn't have much time. So we sprinted back the 3 km to the bus station to make it just on time for our coach to leave. At 9 we were happily back at home, looking forward to a good night's sleep.

The visit was too brief- Seville needs to be visited again!

I have miles to go before I sleep...

Granada- ¿Qué tal?

Well, now I have become a bit more accustomed to the city, I can write about my second observations.

First the weather. Yes, it's hot. Well in the afternoon; because at night it gets really cold so that you have a far bigger temperature difference than in the places I'm used to. For tomorrow we have 8 °C / 25 °C sunshine :D I wonder how long the cold is going to stay out of my room. I have stopped believing that they know anything about double glazing or central heating here.

The city is slowly becoming my home, and I am less afraid of the fast-talking locals. The arabic stores have lost their touristy appeal, most of the time. At every corner, the cheap scarves, earrings and decoration items seem to stare at you.

Another thing that we all had to get used to, is the Spanish timing. No way to go shopping in the afternoon after 2 o'clock... or before 6. In the University most offices are open between 10 and 14... But for the last days, I have tried a siesta myself. It's great actually!

I am also ashamed to say that I haven't visited the Alhambra yet. The Alhambra ( Arabic: الْحَمْرَاء‎, Al-Ḥamrā' , literally "the red one") is the fortress on one of the hills surrounding Granada. It is only visible from the city centre rooftops, because the narrow streets don't necessarily allow broad a broad view on the surroundings. But I am definitely planning on going and to come back in awe like all the people who have been there. It has reached a level of popularity that one has make a reservation for the visit! For now I will enjoy the view from our rooftop terrace, where the afternoon heat gives me some last impressions of summer!

I will be back soon, but I have miles to go before I sleep...

Highway to Heaven ?

My arrival in Spain was marked by the most chaotic journey I've ever made. Indeed, I came down by car… from Berlin.

A stupid issue, not worth mentioning, made it temporarily impossible for me to fly. Thus I had no choice to do a last minute preparation for a car travel. In Germany, a brilliant website exists for that and I’m really wondering why it hasn't reached other countries yet, or at least the ones I live in. It bears the barbarian word of ‘Mitfahrgelegenheit’ and describes the opportunity of sharing a car. Thus you can search for your departure and destination in order to see if anyone on that day has put his/her car on the site and how much it will cost. The system is getting really popular and is mainly used by students.

Following the advice of my flatmate, I checked the foreign routes and found indeed a Mercedes C-class going to Algeciras, passing Valencia and Malaga. After quick look on the map, I call the number of the carshare and got it confirmed… the only problem, that he was leaving from Frankfurt, wasn’t actually a problem, as I just looked for another car share from Berlin- Frankfurt. Thus for roughly 2800 kilometers, I paid less than 100 euros, and I organised it two days before I left.

However 2800km is long, very long.

But all that counts is that I am here - in Granada.
The beautiful city, the great weather (or let me stop lying, it rained on my first day, but since then it has been great!) and the general atmosphere have welcomed me. To hear Spanish around me all the time has been pretty scary but when it comes to actually talking to you, most make the effort of speaking slowly, I said most…

Looking for a flat went about quite differently than from what I know… it looked more like picking some pieces of paper off walls and phone boxes around the city, calling twenty people and getting three flat visits in a day… I was really lucky and quickly found my very nice flat! An Erasmus flat, as they like to call it, in the very centre of Granada.

I didn’t expect the enrolment process to be easy and my expectations were met. Offices close for unknown reasons and most things shut at 2pm, which doesn’t make it easy when you have class in the morning, but I feel like it will work out.

University is starting tomorrow and a general strike is announced for the day after… this semester is going to be interesting!

I have miles to go before I sleep…

Berlin: Take 3... Bis Bald!

This is it. It's the last night. I just got home from some casual drinks with my friends and there is nothing left to do but to say goodbye. The luggages are ready, I sent some packages off and I have 4 hours to sleep.


To describe the time I have spent in Berlin, I would need many more words in many more languages than I know. I regret not a single second of it... or maybe just that one time where I told this (probably German) guy to go back to his stupid country... I got (slightly) carried away, because he was being incredibly rude.

Whenever it's the end of something, I can't help to have flashbacks of memories that have made that something. I still remember vividly my first day in Berlin, without a real plan where to live the next couple of days. I see the afternoons we spent at the lake, the hours we gossiped in the sun, the coffees we had in Friedrichshain, the drinks at the Que Pasa, the dinners at Tempo box and of course the incredible times I have spent with the ICD guys! I also remember the strange places I have discovered in Berlin, the strange people I have seen (ask me about an adult-rated story in the tube ) and it just makes me realise how much I love this city.

I will miss it, but as most of my friends here are leaving as well and as Spain is calling, it is time to move on. Tomorrow I'll hopefully take the first car to Frankfurt and then the day after that another car will leave with me and my big luggage to Andalucia.


Indeed...I have miles to go before I sleep.

More on Berlin: Take 1 and Take 2.

Labas from Lithuania!

My most recent journey took me to the Baltic republic of Lithuania. It's great having friends living all accross Europe, as you can travel by just visiting :)


After an early start and a warm welcome at the airport, I was on the road to Vilnius, with  four girls in a van, ready to discover the capital ( ok, that was just me, the girls were mainly excited about the party): The countryside was not necessarily the most exciting panorama you could imagine, as the country is very flat, but once we arrived in the city, I was charmed by the old buildings.


Vilnius might not be the biggest city, but it makes visiting it by foot a really enjoyable experience. The historical heritage is varied and I didn't find as many communist vestiges as I expected. The orthodox churches, built for the Russian minority, add some colour to the picture. 



According to my guides, on each hill in Lithuania, you can find a castle. And indeed, they spoke the truth. (as I mentioned the country is flat...) Also every castle is made of red bricks, the brought-up hypothesis explained it by the fact that this material had been the cheapest at the time. Probably we weren't far from the truth. The most beautiful location we visited was Trakai, where a castle was built on an island in the middle of a lake. Another great place is the confluence of the Nemunas and the Neris in Kaunas, and surprise! there is a castle as well...

As for Lithuanians, they have the reputation of being a rather rude population; if that's true? I wouldn't put it that way. I think that people, that are strangers to each other or people who only deal at a punctual interchange, are not very warm, don't necessarily smile, but that's just current practice. However, as soon as you enter a home, Lithuanians have shown to be the most welcoming hosts, always preoccupied with the guest's wellbeing and needs.  So I think that the apparent rudeness you might encounter in shops is just not comparable of the polite but fake smile you find in Western European countries. 


Lithuania is very nice to be discovered  on  a weekend, but I think it is far nicer if you know people there!


But short were my goodbyes, as I have miles to go before I sleep...

Berlin: Take 2

Now I have been in Berlin for a while I am able to count the days that are left more easily than the days that I have been here. Time has flown by and the city has become my cosy home. It is a funny process indeed. You arrive in a place, everything is new, you discover small things, curious things maybe boring things, but everywhere you go, you keep on discovering. However one day you wake up and you go out and you look at things and they are familiar. The same U-bahn station, the same guy selling the homeless people's magazine, the same kind of people on the train, the same street corners and so on.  Of course I keep seeing new things but a homyness has set in my Berlin. I think it's a pity to have lived and not to have called Berlin your home at least once. I know when I'll leave it won't be a farewell but an 'Au revoir'.

I'll stop all this embarassing melancholy and tell you more about the odds and ends of the city, or maybe just about some mainstream experiences...

I can't help but compare Berlin to London or Paris, which are my capital references. Although these two metropoles are both unique it their genre, they have many common points they don't share with Berlin. When you get on the Tube or the Metro, or simply when you walk on the street, you should stop and look at how fast people are walking. When you arrive in these cities, you adapt to the rhythm, and as everybody seems to be in a hurry, so are you, even if you are not going anywhere precise, all you know is that you should walk fast. This is totally different in Berlin. The genral pace is calm. Everybody is relaxed and walks with tranquility. You would think people don't get stressed here. Well I don't and I love it.

I also want to report from a little trip I undertook last weekend. We went to Rostock and Warnemünde in the North, about two and a half hours by car. I'm an absolute sea-lover and when we crossed the dunes, looked the kind of wide horizon you only get over the sea, I realised how much I had missed it. Swimming in the sea, running in the sand, watching the sun set, I don't know what else you need for a perfect weekend. The bad weather the next day only made the sea look rough and deep, ok who am I kidding, as my experienced guide Alex explained it, the average depth of the Baltic Sea is about 55m.

But the place is terribly perfect if you want to get away from the crowd in Berlin. Tourist are a recurrent infection there as well, but you can actually find some air to breathe and some space to be.

But let's go back to urbanity...

There is one thing you have to do, if you want to be a real hype Berlin-visitor, you go for brunch on weekends. Indeed the cafés and restaurants of the famous Simon-Dach-Str in Friedrichshain are overcrowded with people enjoying open buffets for less than 10 Euros. When you say Brunch in Germany, they actually mean breakfast and lunch, so that the varieties of food include english breakfast, sweet puddings, fruits, waffle dough (up to you to make the waffles), bread roles, all sorts of salads and to my big astonishment, actual dishes, may it be pasta, curry or some potato bake.

Another thing that makes a stay in Berlin a really enjoyable experience, is the proximity of many lakes. Apart from the famous Wannsee, you can take a swim in the Müggelsee, the Schlachtensee, the Weißensee and many more. You can reach all these very easily with public transport and in certain places you even find sand beaches! It's probably the best option on days when the temperatures rise up to 37°C... we've seen that.

I will go back to enjoying the moments I have left to spend in Berlin, as I have miles to go before I sleep...

More on Berlin: Take 1 and Take 3.

Berlin: Take 1

Yes, I landed in Berlin. Now the summer could begin. And indeed an incredible heat welcomed me.

I first crashed at my aunt's place, and I actually mean crash with my 40 kg of luggage (don't judge, I'm a girl!). It was now time to find a flat... in Berlin, people don't look for a flatmate, no, they look for a friend. I didn't quite grasp that concept when I visited the first flat. Indeed, I found ten people crowding around me asking me not only about my studies, my hobbies, my kind of music or my origins, but also about the situation in the Middle East and its future outcomes. I was slightly taken aback. Obviously this one hadn't gone that well... It took a few attempts until I found a nice flat, with a guy from Chile in the East of Berlin. It might be far from my work place, but the flat, my flatmate and his frequent guests are awesome. So I don't mind the many hours I spend on the S-and U-bahn.

My variable working shifts allow me to do quite a bit of sight-seeing as well as to have good nights out. And I haven't found a more amazing sensation than coming out of a club in daylight. Maybe for most of you this is not such uncommon a thing, but for us, doomed to party life in the UK, this was an extraordinary feeling. In Berlin every night is special and unique in its genre: be it a Russian Disco, Latino moves in La Havanna, a Balkan Party or some mainstream in an old factory building, you know you can have fun anywhere. I have as yet avoided the ultimate tourist experience, called The Weekend, situated on a high building, showing off a terrace with view on the famous TV Tower... the shameless price, the electro music and the fairly arrogant party-goers have kept me away from that place and hopefully will do so in the future.

In my weeks here, I have realised one thing about Berlin. It's all about making new from old, about recycling... and I don't mean the nearly maniac German habit of sorting the rubbish. So many places here have served as other things before. Let me quote some examples. The Kulturbrauerei used to be a huge brewery, now there are loads of bars, a few clubs and all sorts of things in there. Tempelhof used to be an airport, it now is an enormous park. Old factory buildings are frequently used as clubs, such as Postbahnhof and other places around Warschauer Straße. The old Mail Building has become a museum for contemporary art. Berlin's most famous squat Tacheles used to be part of a huge Shopping Mall. I am discovering more and more examples every day. I love this feeling that something has had a different function before, it gives places and buildings a soul...

...

These were my first impressions of Berlin, but as you know: I have miles to go before I sleep...

More on Berlin: Take 2 and Take 3.

Ireland

A camping trip brought me to Eire along with three of my friends. An interesting mix of half-half people: we had 1,5 Germans, 1,5 French, 0,5 Swiss and 0.5 English, all conversing in German... go figure.

The island had a lot of scenery to offer. Whether in Wicklow National park, in Cashel or in Kerry, we were always amazed. Our easy accomodation also enabled us to the most expensive views. But when it started to rain in the tent, it was time for a hostel.

We started off in Dublin with our rented car, which was a pain, because there was so much traffic in the city centre and so many streets seemed to be one-way. Finally we made it to Dun Leary, no hang on, that's not how you spell it, Dún Laoghaire (thank you Google). Reading a map in Ireland is harder than one might think, but also adds much more laughter to the trip. Once at the sea, it only took us a couple of minutes to find a little green spot and to fall asleep in the sunshine.

After this powernap, we were all ready to visit Wicklow and its green hills. As we discovered, there is  hardly anything else than green hills in Wicklow, but we were glad to be finally away from civilisation. After stopping at a old monastery somewhere near Tinahely, we drove to our stop for the night, lost on a little road near Carnew. We asked an adorable old lady whether her field could be our home for the night. After checking with her son, she agreed. As the sun set we ate our delicious soda-bread sandwiches with some Australian wine.

The next morning as we went to thank our host, we couldn't get away. We made her repeat many a sentence, as her Irish was quite a challenge for our untrained ears. She showed us how they made butter in the former times, told us about her family and talked about the only flight she had ever taken: to Lourdes in France on a pilgrimage.

After a long goodbye, we were off to Bunclody for a breakfast, met a charming young man at the petrol station who helped to find our way to Kilkenny. Again a lovely but tourist-y town awaited us. Colleen and I weren't impressed with the castle - we've seen too many castles in France.

Off we were on the road again, to Cashel, where magnificent castle ruins awaited us. The panorama was breath-taking and the history of the castle really interesting. Even the Frenchies were impressed! Next stop, for some food shopping, was Cork. We didn't stay in town too much... If there ain't scenery, we ain't staying.

We were on the lookout for a new spot to put our humble abode. As it was already getting quite dark, our diplomatic mission went to talk to a houseowner, who offered us a space on a field overlooking the sea. The wake-up with such a view was quite an amazement. Although Selina had gone lost, we didn't quite worry until her courteous saviour brought her back by car. Off we were, in the plan of reaching Skelligs Island by the end of the day. We drove along beautiful roads, stopping at a sports centre, where the caretaker generously let us take a shower. After Glengariff, Kenmare and Sneem, we arrived at Ballinskelligs to realise at 5pm that Skellig was open only between 11am and 4pm. The last boat to the island was leaving at 12pm.

The next target we had was Killarney. We had been warned that there had been a huge Gaelic football match that day but we didn't imagine such traffic jams, in every direction! We turned around, and off we were to the Lake. We drove on and on and suddenly arrived in the Gap of Dunloe. As it was starting to rain and getting late, it was getting darker and darker. The eerie atmosphere didn't really inspire me. Constantly stopped by sheep, their businesses and rocky surfaces we continued towards the Black Valley, where we asked at the last house for a tent space. The lady saw our despair and showed us a little space nearby the small stream. On the moss we had a lovely bed... until at 3am we realised, we were lying in water - mostly me. After my whimpering and the first drops that fell from the ceiling, we decided to leave. In the rain, under the attack of midges, we quickly put everything into the car and drove to Killarney before 6am. At a petrol station we organised our bagpacks and waited to give the car back. Then we went to find a hostel and figured out what local attractions there were. After a good shower and some food, we were off to Ross Castle. The 3km walk was quite relaxing and the castle was quite beautiful. The lakeside was really nice. Back in Killarney, a visit to the pub was unavoidable. First we apparently crashed a birthday party in a pub full of Irishmen. A random drunk woman came up to us until her sister and her 'on-and-off-boyfriend'(in her words) saved us. Next pub, a beautiful live music enchanted us, as they were singing about love, cliffs and girls. (the cliché about Irish music turned out to be true).

Next adventure on the list: a walk to the black valley. Supposed 4 hours of walking turned with our stupidity or our yearning for the waterside (John's theory), into seven and a half. We took wrong turns, didn't see the signs etc... But we made it in the end. We also had the help of American Alice, who drove us a bit nearer our target. The last 3-4 miles were the most beautiful ones and we were glad to arrive in the lost hostel. We were all alone and played cards, drank wine and read the future...

After a good night, we went back to Lord Brandon's Cottage and took the boat to Ross castle. A beautiful but cold journey with a guide/ navigator with a hilarious laugh... slightly terrifying. The journey continued by foot to Killarney then by (very modern) train to Dublin (thank you EU).

Dublin, 11.30pm, Pub: A Guiness for each of us. After a nice encounter with an Irish drunkard, we were off to our hostel. We quickly left our things and were off towards Temple Bar. We landed in the Mezz, where we met some Irish guys, with whom we spent the rest of the night, drinking, singing and dancing (:?). A great insight into some real Dubliner's life.

Last day: Dublin. With a lack of sleep and grey weather, the city didn't really enchant us. It was nice. Nicer than Birmingham anyway. After Trinity College, the walks around old little street, the castle, we looked for the supposed (and later confirmed) Calatravas bridge.

At 8pm, we sat in our plane we nearly missed (my fault, I have to admit). Grey Birmingham awaited us. The real life could start again. The fellowship was dissolved.

And I have miles to go before I sleep...