Geebrtat alles Yanghostass: Florence, Italy

Alright you mangy dogs, here comes another fancy post from your favorite 23 year old male friend or family member, who just so happens to be in Europe.

After arriving at the dock in Barcelona, dad and I (fairly certain that’s grammatically correct) took a shuttle bus to the airport, where we eventually parted ways. The bus trip was not short, but it gave an interesting perspective of Barcelona's atmosphere. There was one monument in specific, a large elaborate pillar, with a statue of Christopher Columbus on the top of it, pointing to North America. We saw this monument once already (leaving Barcelona for the cruise), and we got to see it again on our way out. I remember thinking to myself “I should go see this a little closer when I get a chance.”

After seeing dad off, I took the tram to the hostel I stayed at 12 days previous. Sadly, there was no room for me there, and they wouldn’t even let me in the front door! I had no plan B (plan B is usually to exclaim “OH GOD I’M SCREWED!”), but considering the warm weather, and sunny sky, I was feeling O.K. about the situation. I wanted to gain access to the internet, so I waited (5 minutes or so) for another backpacker to enter the hostel. When they got “buzzed” in, I simply followed that person in, snuck by reception, and sat down in the common room to take advantage of the wi-fi. There was no way to distinguish me from a paying customer, and seeing as I still had the old wi-fi password, I was in business.
Long story short, I found a new hostel, took the metro to it, and as I ascended the steps to street level. Once there, what did my poor eyes see? Good old Christopher Columbus, pointing his rusty old arm towards the Norwegian Jade; the ship I was on not four hours previous. Turns out my new hostel was a short, fifteen minute walk from the ship. Things like this just have to be laughed at.

As a few of you already know, I went to a first tier football (soccer) game in Barcelona. Being a supreme “on the wagon, off the wagon” football fan, I went in with very little knowledge of the teams, or history in general. The stadium was nearly max capacity, which was a mere 100 000 spectators. Every time Baça (Barcelona’s team) made a decent attempt on goal, the entire stadium would cry out in one single burst, literally causing my heart to stop for a brief moment. Whenever there was a penalty against Baça, there were always a few people who would jump from their seats, extending their arms to full length in front of their bodies in disgust. But let me tell you, when a Baça player got fouled on a scoring attempt, all hell broke lose. I don’t know Spanish, but it doesn’t take a genius to understand what the general vibe was (if you're curious, the vibe was KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL).

All in all, I had a spectacular time, and was extremely pleased to finally see a football game in Europe (which was one of my original objectives). After the game ended (with Baça’s victory), the streets were turned over to mob rule. 100 000 pedestrians can pretty much do whatever they want when it comes to traffic laws, and there is not much to stop that (legally, as a motorist). There were cars stuck in intersections with the right of way (green light), honking their horns in futility as the mob passed by in a sloth like manner. I suspect that these particular drivers were unprepared for such emergencies, and did not pack the proper survival supplies, such as Snickers bars, and a cranked up stereo set to the climax of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 overture.
Amateurs.

The following day in Barcelona was a “hunt for Gaudi” quest. If you are unfamiliar with the man, just know that he was a famous “bat crazy” contemporary architect, with many famous works within Barcelona. The three major Gaudi attractions (buildings only) are the Casa Batllo (apartment sized house), Sagrada Familia (large unfinished cathedral), and La Pedrera (another residential/commercial building). Of the three, I had to decide on which to spend more time with, and as it turns out, the Sagrada Familia was the best deal.

Up until that point, I was not a huge fan of Gaudi to be honest. Most of his work is all form, and no function. Oh great, those chimneys sure look cool in that elaborate mosaic work, but in the end, all they do is puff smoke. This is where Sagrada Familia comes in. Large cathedrals are (from an architectural standpoint) meant to have form, and very little function (door+roof+walls+fancy art=???). Once again, I had to take the metro to see this building (even though the towers are visible from everywhere), and once I reached street level again, I was shocked—SHOCKED! After seeing the same gothic cathedrals 100 times over, it was an absolute treat to see something so massive, so imaginative, and so original.

Going against the suggestion of my sister, I paid for entree into the Sagrada. The building is incomplete, and still under construction (2020 is the estimated finishing date—yea right, when wingless birds fly—you heard me), and as promised, scaffolding is everywhere. Luckily, there was still plenty to see from the inside, and after a short queue, a quick elevator ride took me to the top of current construction levels. Once at the summit, I decided to give the Sagrada a new name, such as “Sagrada of natural selection Familia.” First off, there are no guardrails anywhere, and secondly, most of the stone balconies were sculpted to a point where their structural integrity was in serious question. Not only that, but there was full access to the main tower shafts (a fine 100 metre fall), and a super cool, spiraling staircase, which allowed visual recognition of the floor (the floor, very far away), should you slip. Good times though, always good times. Interestingly enough, it was nice to see scaffolding used for construction purposes, rather than “simple” refurbishing projects. It allowed me much more imaginative flexibility than your average, run of the mill, thousand year old cathedrals. And who knows, maybe in 2304, the robotic replica of my body will visit the complete version of Sagrada Familia, and say “100100010010011101000100100100100100101010111111010001010."

After Barcelona, I spent two nights in Nice, France. The city was beautiful, and the weather was ALMOST swimming worthy (there were a few brave souls in the water). My time spent in Nice (pronounced like “knee-sssss” or “niece”) was simply exploring the old town, and the towers overlooking the harbour (spectacular view by the way). Not much to report here, but it was certainly one of the most beautiful cities I’ve visited so far, and definitely had the nicest beachside view of any city (I spent a few hours just sitting in the sun).
Nice is nice, but Nice is only as nice as your nice niece.
Yea.

-Kyle-Always nice’ing-out