I must leave Portugal today. I do not have to, but want to. I am going to meet Ruben Sebastian Garcia, a 100% Spanish man that I met the 3rd week of my holiday. Ironically he was working both night trains that I took from Milan to Barcelona and then Barcelona to Granada.
A traditional Spanish beauty; his dark hair, olive skin, smiling eyes, and warm spirit made a great first impression as he sat down beside me and tried to start up a conversation as I read and drank café con leche in the train’s bar car. Content with keeping to myself, hiding from reality with the help of my ipod ear phones shoved in my ears; his persistence with speaking the little English he had learned over the past few months was just enough for me to put down the book and take my earphones out of my ears. Hours later I found myself knowing a lot about Ruben, his culture, his family, and what he likes to do for fun. I listened … I had to listen very carefully due to his limited English. I too shared about my culture, my family, and what I liked to do for fun. He too had to listen carefully because of my inability to speak any Spanish, my tendency to use slang, and habit of speak very fast…you know how I ramble. At times he would look at me puzzled and would say, “I do not understand”. I replied back, “That is ok, most American men have no idea what I am saying either”. Again this puzzled him; I just giggled because I thought I was funny. Surprisingly, we had a lot in common. Graciously, he volunteered to be my tour guide in Barcelona the day we arrived. I took him up on his offer and was taken to the best lookout points of the city, the best beach, and a great traditional Spanish restaurant. The next day continued with Ruben as I was headed on the night train to Granada. This night we continued our conversation at the train’s bar café, and over dinner in the train’s dinning room eating a traditional Spanish meal that he prepared before arriving to work that evening. Being a lucky girl that I am, I got another Ruben style tour of Granda the next day we arrived.
So this is how I met Ruben and why I have taken him up on his offer for him to be my tour guide at his home in Monistrol de Montesserat (http://www.barcelona-tourist-guide.com/montserrat-spain.html) , a beautiful village that sits below an amazing National Park that surrounds Montesserat. He has planned a week of camping, climbing, and a little trip to Switzerland…oh and of course a promise of the most amazing mountain roads so I can ride my bike.
However, I must spend the day first in Barcelona getting my bicycle wheel fixed. The cursed cobble stone roads of Lisbon have beat up my bicycle leaving me with a wobbly wheel. Luckily, my old travel companion Jon was also in town and had given me a call to see if I wanted to see the city. Obviously, I am glad to spend a day with Jon catching up on our travels of the past 10 days, and it is also a bonus because Jon speaks Spanish and this comes in handy when you need to run errands. For some reason my Spanish-English dictionary does not have the word nipple translated. So asking for your spoke nipple to fished out of your rim and replaced could get interesting.
Barcelona, I must say, is my favorite metropolis city ever visited by myself in the short 29 years I have been alive. Situated on the cost,
A traditional Spanish beauty; his dark hair, olive skin, smiling eyes, and warm spirit made a great first impression as he sat down beside me and tried to start up a conversation as I read and drank café con leche in the train’s bar car. Content with keeping to myself, hiding from reality with the help of my ipod ear phones shoved in my ears; his persistence with speaking the little English he had learned over the past few months was just enough for me to put down the book and take my earphones out of my ears. Hours later I found myself knowing a lot about Ruben, his culture, his family, and what he likes to do for fun. I listened … I had to listen very carefully due to his limited English. I too shared about my culture, my family, and what I liked to do for fun. He too had to listen carefully because of my inability to speak any Spanish, my tendency to use slang, and habit of speak very fast…you know how I ramble. At times he would look at me puzzled and would say, “I do not understand”. I replied back, “That is ok, most American men have no idea what I am saying either”. Again this puzzled him; I just giggled because I thought I was funny. Surprisingly, we had a lot in common. Graciously, he volunteered to be my tour guide in Barcelona the day we arrived. I took him up on his offer and was taken to the best lookout points of the city, the best beach, and a great traditional Spanish restaurant. The next day continued with Ruben as I was headed on the night train to Granada. This night we continued our conversation at the train’s bar café, and over dinner in the train’s dinning room eating a traditional Spanish meal that he prepared before arriving to work that evening. Being a lucky girl that I am, I got another Ruben style tour of Granda the next day we arrived.
So this is how I met Ruben and why I have taken him up on his offer for him to be my tour guide at his home in Monistrol de Montesserat (http://www.barcelona-tourist-guide.com/montserrat-spain.html) , a beautiful village that sits below an amazing National Park that surrounds Montesserat. He has planned a week of camping, climbing, and a little trip to Switzerland…oh and of course a promise of the most amazing mountain roads so I can ride my bike.
However, I must spend the day first in Barcelona getting my bicycle wheel fixed. The cursed cobble stone roads of Lisbon have beat up my bicycle leaving me with a wobbly wheel. Luckily, my old travel companion Jon was also in town and had given me a call to see if I wanted to see the city. Obviously, I am glad to spend a day with Jon catching up on our travels of the past 10 days, and it is also a bonus because Jon speaks Spanish and this comes in handy when you need to run errands. For some reason my Spanish-English dictionary does not have the word nipple translated. So asking for your spoke nipple to fished out of your rim and replaced could get interesting.
Barcelona, I must say, is my favorite metropolis city ever visited by myself in the short 29 years I have been alive. Situated on the cost,
30 minutes from mountains, funky modern architecture and art of Dali and Gaudi,
laid back atmosphere, and warm people make you never want to leave.
Decorative symbols of modernism that are imbedded in sidewalks guide you to the next city attraction.
Gaudi gems (http://www.gaudiclub.com/) are the closest man made beauty that can come close to the splendor of what God had given us in the forest, mountains, and sea. Design that moves like water makes you almost think you are looking to the horizon above the Mediterranean Sea. The colors of each tile, similar to the color palate of the Tuscan countryside, dance together to form a manmade landscape that is breathtaking. Each design masterpiece strikes me similar to the way I felt as I cycled the Almaphie cost and gazed to the terraced lemon and orange laden farmland.
I will spend the last 10 days being surrounded by beauty. I may not want to leave…again.
Amore,
Katelyn
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