NEW ZEALAND

Woohooooo! New Zealand!

I fell in love with New Zealand. Seriously, the prettiest place on earth. I cannot count the number of times Beth and I had to stop and seriously ask ourselves if we were still on Planet Earth. It was unbelievable. Don’t worry, I’ll liberally sprinkle pictures throughout this blog entry. Also: we only did the South Island. We heard that for the amount of time we had, the North Island wasn’t really worth it. I could be convinced to go back and be proven wrong, though.

On our first day, we flew into Christchurch, rented a car, and did a short drive to Arthur’s Pass National Park. The hostel proprietor there was hysterical. I refuse to refer to him as anything except Michael Moore. He kind of looked like him, but that’s not the point. He was Canadian, and he kept trying to bring up Bush and how much he hated Bush, and he clearly wanted us to sympathize. Beth and I were like… yeah, we get it, we hated Bush too, but that was THREE YEARS AGO. WE HAVE A NEW PRESIDENT NOW. NO ONE STILL IS TALKING ABOUT BUSH. The guy kept using the word “groovy,” with no apparent sense of irony, and kept trying to get us to rant with him about evangelical Christians and the Bible Belt. Beth and I were just like… wow, news must travel slowly to rural New Zealand. Yes, we saw Jesus Camp, yes, we saw the results of the 2004 election, yes, we were horrified at the time, but we’re pretty much over it now. Let’s… let’s move on.

So anyway, the next morning we woke up and went hiking in the national park. It. Was. Stunning. Pictures here:







However, I had to wuss out a little early. I think I thought I was in much better shape than I was. It got better the more I hiked, but that first day… I couldn’t quite make it to the top of the mountain. Sad day.

After we went hiking, we drove down to glacier country. There are these two glaciers along the West Coast of New Zealand, so the next morning we hiked out to see those. Pictures here:







That was also cool but I mean, I’ve seen snow and ice before. There were Australians ahead of us who were just blown away because it was the first time any of them had seen snow. Beth and I were just kinda like, yeah, we get it. It’s cold. Wahoo.

Our next stop was Queenstown, which is like the adrenaline sports capital of the world. I did no adrenaline sports. First of all, SO not my thing. Secondly, surprisingly expensive! I mean, I know throwing yourself out a plane would be in the region of 600 bucks, but bungee jumping was like 400, which actually did surprise me. Had it been like 30 or 50, I maybe would have considered it, but for that amount of money when it’s something I don’t really want to do? Forget about it. We stayed there two nights and it was one of the only non-rural locations on our trip. We met these two Canadian guys in our hostel who were in their late 20s and doing a trip around the world because they got a year off work – a PAID year off work! GOD I love Canada.

After Queenstown, it was on to Te Anau National Park, where we stayed one night before taking an overnight cruise around Doubtful Sound. Here is a random scenery picture from that drive:



Anyway. There are these two big sounds in southern New Zealand: Milford and Doubtful. Milford you can do in a day cruise, but it was like 150 bucks to do that, and Doubtful was overnight and 200, so it was pretty much a no-brainer as we’d have to pay for a hostel that night if we’d done Milford. Doubtful Sound is called that because when Captain Cook was a-explorin’, his men wanted to go into the sound but he was DOUBTFUL there’d be enough wind to get them back out! Haha! Geddit? DOUBTFUL!

Anyway. The main point of the cruise was just to look at how pretty the sound was, so I’ll let the pictures speak for themselves:






I mean HONESTLY.

After Doubtful Sound we drove up to Christchurch in the morning. We spent two nights in Christchurch. Our first we had to spend in this horribly sketchy Asian hostel because the hostel we wanted to stay in closed its reception at like 8 and we got there at like 8:30. It was clean and safe and all that, but it smelled SO strongly of curry and fish. It was disgusting. That morning, we woke up and drove out to Kaikoura wine country, where we saw a seal colony and did wine tastings.

Here is a picture of the beach and of me at a seal colony:




We had a lovely dinner at a brewery that night and drove back into Christchurch. It’s kind of unbelievable how badly Christchurch is still suffering from that earthquake and, correspondingly, how quickly the earthquake disappeared from the public eye. I went to New Orleans in 2007 for the Sugar Bowl, and honestly, the downtown of Christchurch reminded me of some of the worse-hit neighborhoods I saw of NOLA. The entire city center is closed off to traffic and pedestrians, but the surrounding areas were still really bad, so I can’t imagine what the city center is like. It shocked both of us – we remembered hearing about the earthquake but I guess we sort of didn’t realize how much it would still be affecting daily life in the city.

Our last night we stayed in an absolutely lovely hostel (the one whose reception had been closed the previous night). We drank a bottle of fine wine that we’d bought at one of the wineries and watched How I Met Your Mother and it was basically a perfect ending to an absolutely lovely trip.

Then I flew for 30 hours and took a 2 ½ hour bus ride and I never, ever want to travel again. Cheers!

p.s. If you’re on facebook, there’s a ton better pictures up – it’s sort of hard to load pictures onto this thing and the majority of them are on there.

Australia: Melbourne!

So after Perth, it was on to Melbourne. Beth was quite excited to know what I thought of Melbourne. Apparently there is a big Sydney/Melbourne competition: I sat next to an Australian man on the way home and when he asked me about my trip, his immediate next question was whether I preferred Sydney or Melbourne. The joke is that Sydney is the pretty girl in class, and Melbourne’s her plain friend who had to develop a personality. Sydney is about beaches and sun and surfing and Melbourne is the cultural capital of Australia – plays and museums and cafes, etc. Based on that description, I was actually fully prepared to like Melbourne.

…but I liked Sydney. More on the merits of Sydney later, and I did really like Melbourne as well, but especially for a vacation, Sydney was tops. Melbourne was super interesting, tons of cool little alleys and cafes, etc, but the weather’s not very good and let’s face it, I’m living in Europe. I’m good on the whole museum front. Maybe to live, I’d prefer Melbourne because it seems like there’s a lot of cultural stuff going on that you could always take advantage of, but because so much of it seemed to be knowing underground stuff, it was hard to kind of take it all in in vacation.

Beth’s (obviously) working in Melbourne, so the days were pretty much my own. I took a guided walking tour with this sort of creepy old man, but he was very informative and I learned a lot about the city – it was a big gold rush city, used to be a huge financial capital, etc. I walked around this Queen Victoria market which was pretty cool and basically just roamed the city. I got the impression that that’s sort of the point of Melbourne – there’s not a ton to see and do (I guess kind of like Perth) but it’s about walking around and getting a feel for the place. Honestly, it reminded me a bit of Brooklyn – hipster, a bit pretentious, a bit suspicious of outsiders (especially ones deemed uncool). This all sounds negative, but I swear I actually did like Melbourne. But that did seem to be its general vibe.

Here’s just a couple of pictures of the city (and of Beth and I posing in front of this really famous nude painting... it's apparently worth more than the bar it's in and is a Melbourne landmark):







So anyway, what was really great was getting to meet all of Beth’s housemates and friends. One of her roommates is a superb cook and he made this giant Indian feast for all of us one night. She’s met some very cool people and it was really nice to meet them and see where she works, etc (she’s working at a non-profit that finds housing for low-income people). It’s super cool because now I can picture what her life is like there in Melbourne.

One very interesting thing I did was go to the Melbourne Museum. I only went because there were giant banners up about a King Tut exhibit, and I’ve never seen King Tut, so I figured, why not? I got there literally 7 minutes after the museum opened and they were already sold out of King Tut tickets for the day. Not kidding. But I figured I’d walked all the way out there, might as well go to the museum anyway. Some of the exhibits were fairly underwhelming, but they had an EXCELLENT display on aboriginal life and culture. I know very little about aboriginal Australians, but one thing I was quite impressed with was the amount of attention paid to aboriginals in Australia. You see stuff about them EVERYWHERE – someone was saying there’s even something about the prime minister starting all her speeches with one of the aboriginal languages. I was really impressed because we definitely don’t pay the same attention to Native Americans. It feels like white Australians are quite serious about atoning for past sins. I was quite impressed with that.

Anyway, this exhibition. There was all kinds of interesting historical stuff about the Stolen Generation (basically an early 1900s thing where aboriginal children were taken from their parents and sent to orphanages to be trained to become servants for white Australians) and even stuff before that, like the super early colonial stuff where it was basically a huge giant massacre. There was one story in particular about a tribe in Tasmania where the British rounded up everyone – men, women and children – and basically forced them to jump off this huge cliff into the sea. The history seemed very similar to how we treated the Native Americans, but I found it admirable how much more in the forefront of national consciousness treatment of aboriginals seemed to be than it is in America.

While I’m (sort of) on the subject – something that surprised me about Australia was how much it reminded me of the States. I was expecting degrees of similarity, of course – we both speak English, both settled by British immigrants in the early days, etc – but Australia, more than any country I’ve been to, reminds me the most of America. Definitely more so than England, and I also think Ireland is extremely similar to America, but Australia beats Ireland. It just surprises me because I guess I assumed for a long time that England and America would be extremely similar, but Ireland is more like America than is England, and Australia more like America than Ireland, even. It just surprises me. I sort of didn’t expect that to be the order.

Anyway. Melbourne was lovely but then it was time to go onto sunny, sunny Sydney.

Australia: Perth!

So I just got back from a whirlwind and wonderful trip to Australia and New Zealand! I went to three cities in Oz: Perth, Melbourne, and Sydney, and then Beth and I rented a car and did a road trip around the South Island of New Zealand. Right before I left, my friend Kyle from the States and my friend Eric who lives in Maynooth (in Ireland) came to visit for a couple of days, which was fun and amazing and wonderful. More ND love whooo!

But (sorry Kyle and Eric) the main focus of this entry will be Oceania. To make it easy, I’ll divide this update into four chunks, one for each city and then one for NZ. To begin: Perth.

My first moments in Perth began with my almost-arrest. We landed, and right off the airplane there was this big “Welcome to Perth!” sign. Being a huge tourist, my first natural inclination was to take a picture. Apparently this is a $1,000 fine as I was in some sort of restricted area (there was a sign, although it was tiny and not in a terribly conspicuous place. I noticed it once it was pointed out but I never would have just seen it on my own). I was accosted by Australian border police and after a great deal of apologizing and groveling, they let me off with no fine. I didn’t have to cry, but I was fully prepared to if the need should present itself. I did have to delete the picture, though. Sad day.

My friend Christina from high school lives in Perth with her boyfriend, Chris. Their friend, Joey, and my cousin, Beth, picked me up at the airport. (Beth lives in Melbourne but flew into Perth to hang out since I was there.) Joey told me fun facts about Perth, including that it’s the most isolated capital city in the world, which is pretty cool. The next nearest city is a place called Darwin, and I’m pretty sure he said it was about a five hour flight away. Other than that, it’s just the Outback til you hit the east coast (Sydney, Melbourne, Brisbane, etc).

Joey and Beth and I hung out at Chris and Christina’s until the two got off work. I had never met Chris before, so it was really good to meet him and SO good to hang out with and catch up with Christina. After their senior year of college (at ASU) Christina and Beth decided to do 7 months of traveling around Southeast Asia, which is where Christina and Chris met. Adorable story. She’s working there and he’s a native, so it was really fun to hang out with locals. The two of them and Joey and a couple of other Chris’s friends showed us a really good time: we went tubing on the river on Saturday and got a sweet tour of Perth beaches, etc.







Basically Perth was just good times of hanging out and being with fun people. The only seriously notable thing I can think of that happened was this conversation, which numbers among the most uncomfortable I have ever had.

So Saturday night, we went to a bar where a ton of Chris’s friends were. I met all of them, but since there were so many, I couldn’t keep names/faces straight, etc. Small piece of background information: Christina is originally from Arizona and after high school, went back to go to ASU. Beth also went to ASU. Usually, for sake of shorthand, they just tell people they are from Arizona because this makes it much easier. For this reason, everyone in Perth knows them as “the Arizona girls.” To continue:

I’m at the bar, ordering a drink. This guy overhears my accent and says, “you American?” This is the conversation that follows:

Me: Hi! Yeah, I am.
Him: oh, you from Arizona?
(at this point, I assume he is one of Chris’s friends and knows Christina, assumes that since I am American, I must also be from Arizona.)
me: Oh, no, I’m not, but I know those girls.
Him: What girls?
Me: Sorry, Beth and Christina.
Him: What? Who’s Beth?
(I now assume he must know Christina but not Beth, as Beth, like me, is just visiting.)
me: Oh, right. She’s Christina’s friend, living in Melbourne.
Him: Who is Christina?
Me: Chris’s girlfriend?
Him: Who is Chris?
Me: Chris Bates?
Him: What?
Me: Arizona?
Him: huh?
(we stare at each other blankly for awhile.)
me (tentatively): Arizona?
Him: I have no idea who any of those people are. I was just asking if you were from Arizona because I went to the Grand Canyon last summer.
Me: Oh. Um. I have to go now.

It was seriously so amazingly awkward and uncomfortable.

But other than that, it was just really fun and laid back. We just hung out and ate and drank and had a lot of fun. I guess a couple touristy things we did: we went to a farmer’s market and a prison that the British made prisoners build with their own hands (because Australia started life as a British penal colony). Ah, the Brits. Masters of torture.

Basically, Perth is lovely. A lot of people skip it because it’s so isolated and because there’s really not a lot to “do.” Frankly, had I not known people there, I probably would have skipped it as well. But I’m so glad I went – had such a good time!

I Suppose I Should Do This Again

Many people have urged me to begin blogging again. I was going to protest because I didn't think anything at all special had happened in my life, but it occurred to me some really cool things are happening! LIST TIME.

1) The weekend of February 25-26, I participated in Irish college swimming nationals. The NCAAs of the Emerald Isle, if you will. I haven't swum competitively since I was seventeen years old. I placed fourth in the 200 breaststroke and fifth in the 200 IM. It was hysterical. There was this incredibly clear divide between the people who are clearly going to make the Irish Olympic team and... everybody else. After like, second or third place in every event, there was this STEEP drop off to everyone else. No middle ground whatsoever. You were either really superbly excellent, or you just kinda did your thing. I definitely fell into the "just kinda did your thing" category - I was kind of leading the pack of those people, but also finishing about 20 seconds behind the top finishers. My friend Mike (who is also getting a master's here but is from Tennessee originally) hands down, far and away, won the 200 back (he swam in [American] college). I almost felt bad because it was such a, "Who is that guy? He came outta NOWHERE!" moment. We had to explain that he would not be attending the Olympics as he is a United States citizen. Sad day for Irish swimming.

Irish swimming is SO much more fun than American. In the first place, all the heats were on Friday and all the finals Saturday. There was this huge party on Friday night where everyone drank. EVERYONE. Including the people who had to swim the next day! It was unreal. I couldn't fathom something like that happening in the States. On Saturday, there was also this huge fancy ball. It was really, really fun especially because I could let loose more that night than Friday night because I didn't have to swim the next day. It was insane.

2) I just booked a flight to Scotland to visit my friend Lauren for the first week of April. Lauren went to St. Mary's College (which, for anyone who doesn't know, is Notre Dame's sister school) and she used to take a lot of English classes at Notre Dame, so we got to be friends. She lives in St. Andrews now (the home of golf!) and I've been meaning to go see her for a long time so I finally just did it. Should be fun to get out of Dodge and visit somewhere I probably never would have otherwise. My only expectations are to meet Prince William and gaze into his eyes for an extended period of time and then to become best friends with Kate Middleton. So I probably won't be disappointed as these are extremely achievable goals.

3) This is not an extraordinary happening at all, but last night on my way home from campus where I'd been doing work, I decided to stop at the grocery store. I had my backpack with me, so I decided that would work well as my grocery bag (in Ireland, in a policy which I TOTALLY think they should implement in America, they charge you per plastic bag so as to encourage you to use reusable bags). I was stuffing my groceries into my backpack, doing my thang, and this employee approached me and was like, "erm... excuse me... can you use this?" and held out a wire shopping basket. I accepted, puzzled, until I realized that stuffing food into my backpack looked exactly like shoplifting. Whoops.

4) Visitor time begins! I'm really looking forward to the next batch of visitors. First, my friend Kiel who was my year at Notre Dame is going to be in Dublin for St. Patrick's Day. He's now getting a master's at ND and his program is flying him for FREE to Ireland for spring break. I'm going to head in there Wednesday, hang out with him Thursday (my Thurs and Fri classes got canceled bc of St. Patty's) and then stay there Friday so I can be at the airport Saturday morning to pick up my old roommate from NYC Alana and her boyfriend from the airport! We'll stay in Dublin that Saturday night and head back to Galway in the morning. They're staying with me til Thursday.

Then, slightly into the future but I'm no less excited about it, my friend Kyle Barrettsmith is coming in late April and then I'm going to Australia! Pretty exciting next couple of months I've got lined up.

I think that's all, folks! Love you and miss you all.

Si, Si Madrid

So I’ve just returned from a lovely little holiday in Spain. My friend Mike, who lives and studies here in Galway with me, did a Fulbright in Madrid last year and decided to go back to visit for a week (he only has classes one day a week… bastard). So I put my sponge skills to work and got a 3-day vacay in Madrid where basically all I spent money on was a flight. I stayed with his friends for free, and, unbeknownst to me at the time I booked the flight, apparently once I arrived in Madrid it was going to become a competition to see who could buy me more food, beer and wine. I’m not kidding. Mike, his friend Aaron, Aaron’s roommates… they kept insisting they wanted to show great hospitality so I would love Madrid. I don’t know if they’re working for the Madrid Tourism Board or what, but it definitely worked and I will spend the rest of this blog entry singing Madrid’s praises. I think I only spent money on one meal, because I finally put my foot down and insisted on buying my host (Aaron) dinner one night. Other than that, this was the cheapest vacation I’ve ever had. I think I withdrew 70 euro in the Dublin airport and returned with about 30 euro. It was insane.

So, Madrid. I am so glad I experienced this with a local, or at least a semi-local. Mike (to my untrained eye) knew EVERYTHING about Madrid, and if there was something he didn’t know, Aaron did. Mike and Aaron did Fulbrights last year and Aaron stayed on and is still living and loving Madrid. It wasn’t a terribly cultural trip, because this was like, their city, so I didn’t want to be like, “ummm take me to the Praaaaaaaado,” but I honestly think that made me enjoy it that much more because being in Madrid felt more like living a lifestyle than it did ticking off certain “have to see” boxes.

So I left early Saturday morning (5 a.m. flight) and got into Madrid at like 9:30. I navigated the Metro to Aaron’s apartment (was SO proud of myself for that) and woke them up at 12:30, which I felt bad about but they insisted was fine. Basically I dropped my bag off and we went out tapiendo (eating tapas). Yes. The Spanish love their tapas so much there is a verb specifically for eating them. (hint: this blog entry is going to be LARGELY about food I ate. Until this vacay, I thought the best food I’d ever had was in Italy. I may be revising that statement.)

We started in this little plaza right outside Aaron’s apartment. There were like, 4 tapas bars all in this little oval around the bottom of the plaza. Aaron knew which were the best tapas at each restaurant, so we started at one, had a couple, moved onto the next, and so on. It was in the SEVENTIES so this was also all happening outside. We got done tapiendoing (Spanglish FTW) at around 4:30, which was just in time for siesta. I thought we’d nap at Aaron’s apartment, but no, we went to a park and slept in the warm sunshine. It was PHENOMENOL. It was warm! I was in short sleeves and leggings! I took my SHOES OFF! We napped until probably 6 or 6:30 (and it was still light out when we were done!) and then headed back to Aaron’s for showering/wine/pre-dinner prepping. On the way, we (note: whenever we say we, I’m usually referring to Mike, Aaron and myself) stopped for more tapas, so we made it back around probably 9.

We just kind of putzed around his apartment for awhile – I took a shower, the boys did whatever boys do while girls shower – and headed out around midnight for dinner. I’d always heard the Spanish ate and did everything really late, but I figured that meant dinner at 9 or 10. No one seemed even remotely stressed when Aaron was still in the shower at like 11:30. It just seemed a total non-issue. They took me to this tiny little hole in the wall Mexican place and I had tacos and a margarita for the first time since… well, December, but that doesn’t accurately demonstrate how much I’m missing Mexican food. After that, we went to this sangria bar that they assured me was one of Hemingway’s haunts, but I’m not sure because there seemed to be no Hemingway propaganda or pictures or anything, but maybe the Spanish are just classier than Americans and don’t feel the need to splash the fact that someone famous ate there or drank there around their restaurant.

After that, it was onto a club. My biggest fear for Spain was the nightlife. I am not a night owl. I am a wimp when it comes to going out. When you’re with me and it hits 3 a.m., man, it is time for BED. Sometimes (read: a LOT of times) I don’t even make it that far. I knew that the Spanish are generally out until 6:30 or 7 a.m. and I was genuinely very stressed about it. I didn’t want to make the boys take me home when the night was just beginning, but nor did I want to fall asleep against a wall at some club somewhere. (I feel like the end of that sentence is what a lot of “Taken”-esque movies are premised upon.)

Turns out I was TOTALLY underestimating the power of the siesta. I was good to GO. We had the best night. We just wandered around and went into different clubs Aaron and Mike knew. I am also not a club person, but the term “club” when it comes to Spain or at least Madrid or at least the clubs we went to that particular night is a bit of a misnomer. These were not techno/house/electronica establishments. They were basically just bars that were open later. They had tables and dance floors but also conversational areas, etc. I hate going to places where the music is so loud you can’t talk and everyone is skinnier than you and the girls are mean and the boys are sleazy and you just jump up and down like an idiot because it’s so crowded you can’t really dance… to me, that is a “club” and it is not an experience I enjoy. But these were not “clubs” in that sense of the word, but rather just bars that were open past 2:30.

Anyway we were legitimately out til 7. ME! I WAS OUT TIL 7 IN THE MORNING! Nerdy little wimpy me! And it wasn’t even difficult! We saw the sun rise on our way home! As we were going back into Aaron’s apartment I asked if I should set an alarm, if anyone had anything to do that day, and they were like, “no! The Spanish do not set alarms! Just sleep!” I woke up at 1:30 and was so incredibly refreshed. It was the best sleep I’ve had in a long time and I was so ready for the day and so alert and happy. (sidenote: before we went out that night, Aaron’s roommate Nikki was trying to convince us to go hiking with her on Sunday, and we were all pretty into the idea. Then she said, “I’m getting up pretty early though….like 11,” and instantly the boys were like, “oh, sorry, not gonna happen, no.” I thought they were being silly but now I completely understand. Eleven would have been HELLA early.)

Sidenote: something ELSE that surprised me about myself (besides my ability to party like a Spaniard) was that my Spanish is really a lot better than I give myself credit for. I was able to largely follow most of Aaron’s interactions with his roommates (and they were speaking FAST), and I conducted entire conversations with people without them switching to English or slowing down their speaking considerably. At one point, right after I got off the Metro in Aaron’s neighborhood, I went into a hotel because I wasn’t quiiiiite sure what I was doing and I figured a hotel receptionist, if anyone, was going to be able to help me/give me directions, and we had about a 7 minute convo, during which at no point did he have to switch to English or did I have to speak English, and I understood it so completely that I was able to navigate my way to Aaron’s with complete confidence. I mean, I’m sure it was totally obvious Spanish was not my first language and that I didn’t speak it fluently, but for instance when I was in Germany, as soon as I started to speak in German people would just say, “Yeah, how can I help you?” Here I totally knew what was going on and even managed to produce some Spanish myself. I was proud.

So ANYWAY on Sunday we woke up and went to lunch at like 3 at an Indian buffet. Then we spent the day park hopping. They just took me to all their favorite parks and we walked around and hung out and talked to Spanish people and laid in the sunshine and it was beautiful and magical and perfect. On the way home we stopped and got delicious sushi and were home by like 11. Aaron had to work the next day so we just hung out and chatted and went to bed around midnight/oneish.

On Monday I had to leave, which broke my heart. However, my flight was at 9 p.m. so I had pretty much a full day. We woke up and went to the school Mike taught at last year (when you do a Fulbright, you can either teach in a high school or do research at a university) and everyone went NUTS over him. Teachers, students, everyone. They seemed so happy to see him. He taught science and I guess became very close with the head of the science department, because when we walked in she squealed and then hugged me, kissed my cheeks, and excitedly asked Mike, “Esta mi hija nueva?” (Is this my new daughter?) It was really freaking adorable.

Mike was then a good Fulbright alum and at the end of the day we took the new Fulbright teacher out to lunch. Her name was Noelle and she was from Kansas City and went to Haverford in Philly (I got really excited and told her that my aunt, uncle and cousin used to live in KC and now live in Philly and she was like… that’s nice [because, let’s be real, what else was she supposed to say?]) and she was very nice. We had a nice extended lunch with her (we got to the school around noon and then the day was over at 2, so we just went straight from escuela to lunch) and then after that, because I insisted on doing SOMETHING touristy, Mike was very obliging and took me to the Reina Sofia where I saw Guernica and lots of other Picassos and some Dalis. Guernica is HUGE, just as a sidenote. It is immense and like, the entire height and length of one wall in the museum. (Guernica is that painting Picasso painted sometime in the 30s after Hitler was like, “hey, Franco, can I test out my bombs in Spain?” and Franco was like, “Sure, go for it, it’s not like I ever liked the Basques.” If you have no idea what I’m talking about, google it and I’m sure you’ll recognize it.)

Then, tragically, it was time to leave. After the Reina, I just went back to Aaron’s, collected my stuff and Metro’ed out to the aeropuerto. And now I am back in Ireland and it is not sunny and no one wants to buy me food and drinks anymore. But, ah, Madrid. You were wonderful.