Augury of August starts in the B-City
About a month before August, I had no idea I would be traveling to Spain. Never have I really listed this country as one of my top future travels but when I got that call from Tita Virgie asking me to hop on to this trip with her and her friends, I said YES in a heartbeat! And it was worth every second I was there. Spain was magnificent.
Besides the SEXCHITECTURE which is the main feat of the Spanish culture (orgasmic beauty of its rich architecture), the city’s pride is its abundance of street cafés. Almost every corner has a cozy spot for foodies, coffee lovers, or basically anyone who just wants to get buzzy in the light of day.
I think Barcelona could be described in one word, “sexy”. I like the unpredictability of this city, it’s almost seductively mysterious. It is eclectic and eccentric. I couldn’t tell if it’s the old or the new culture or the mixture of the two that heightens its mystery. I just now this city spells “sexy”.
Always stopping for a hot cup of coffee or a warm croissant in between shopping. :) And sometimes, a glass of wine to match the city’s elegance.
Spain boasts of its masterpieces as if it’s the throbbing veins and arteries that keep the city alive. They are not just landmarks, but they are ICONS that show how the Spanish history has evolved in time. It makes me realize why the country was to-die-for. Knowing a chunk piece of Spanish history, I know they fought in wars to colonize; trying to build christianity and spread their culture. If I was born in that era, I’d welcome the spaniards have I known their passionate love for arts. It would have rubbed off on me, or maybe it did since I have spanish ancestors? We are not talking about small statues and what nots here. These sculptures and historical buildings were gargantuan! I wish I had more time to immerse myself and get to know the intricate arts that makes up their culture but all I had was quick snapshots and second-to-minute glances from the hop on, hop off bus. :(
Enjoying the Spanish sun. It’s warm and cozy at the park so I sat there for a quick stop.
I was just speechless most of the time. I can’t even begin to imagine how they come up with these intricate designs. It’s just amazing I could cry.
Bringing me home some souvenir from Starbucks Cataluña. I am so excited to collect Starbucks mugs from all over the world! And it starts right here. ;-)
Catching our train to Cataluña’s Sta. Maria de Montserrat early AM in España and I am so glad there’s a cup of warm cappuccino and chocolate-filled croissant at the subway to fuel us up.
You can’t leave España without shopping in their homegrown brand, MANGO.
When in Barcelona, never miss Wok Dau’s eat-all-you-can marathon which starts early evening until late night. They have the best seafood buffet ever and you better have the guts for such binge-eating. My tummy wasn’t prepared for this. Uh-oh.
My second night grub is at El Rey de la Gamba. After our night stroll at the beach and tasting the Mediterranean sea, we headed straight here for the most delicious seafood everythang!
Now it’s time to wrap up and CHILL. It was a beautiful day and I haven’t written enough to describe Spain in deets. I guess there are things that are better left unsaid. Or maybe… I am just too lazy to write. Oh wells! x o x o
Anonymous said: who's the lucky guy? and who's Von? :)
Von happens to be a soul I am in sync with. I don’t know anything else that could justify what we are atm, maybe in time i’ll know.
Yup. I am that girl who picks up food on the floor and eats it, chomps off the sticker on an apple and swallows it, who won’t wash her hair until she feels like it. Yes, I am that girl.
Was literally up in HEAVEN
I can’t even begin to explain how beautiful this re-routed Spanish trip turned out to be when we decided to hop on the train to reach Catalonia’s Santa Maria de Montserrat Abbey. It wasn’t one of our itinerary, actually. On second thought, there was really no itinerary to begin with. Ha-ha!
One of my travel chicks broached on this “Montserrat” place which we totally had no clue about. She just heard it from another friend and was supposedly the best place to visit in Barcelona and something we should never leave Spain without visiting.
If you are afraid of heights when visiting the Santa Maria de Montserrat Abbey, you better tuck that phobia somewhere. This yellow cable car lifted us up up in the clouds!
I gasped when I saw the whole abbey. It wasn’t anything I have seen in this lifetime. I could have sworn I was up in heaven. This Benedictine abbey was floating on top of the clouds and you can see the mountain peaks piercing through the sky. It seemed boundless.
Brief history: The Spanish Civil War saw the violent suppression of the Abbey of Montserrat. Of the 278 priests and 583 religious men and women killed in Catalonia by groups of armed anarchists. The republican authorities, and particularly the authorities of the Generalitat de Catalunya, such as Lluís Companys, Ventura Gassol or Joan Casanovas, tried to stop anticlerical violence and helped many priests and religious people to hide and leave the country, 22 were monks of the Abbey of Montserrat. (Wikipedia)
Can you see this happy kid? Yeah… Fatso filled with Paella and trippin’.
The Montserrat is the highest point of Catalonia lowlands. And if you are lucky enough on a clear blue sky, you can see the island of Mallorca from the funicular Sant Jeroni.
Cool trivia: Montserrat basically means serrated mountains. :p
Heaps of thank you’s to this bunch. I enjoyed my Spanish tour because of you guys. Sorry you had to babysit me… :D
Your future travel blogger, I hope? Hmmm nah… I am too lazy to write.
Easy Tiger | The Careful Ones
I’ll steal you away until you’re thinking of me
Does your hand tremble when you call me?
Wait for someone who bumps mouths clumsily with yours cos they’re too busy smiling to kiss you properly. Yeah. Wait for that.
No Drawbacks in Drøbak
The Lost Havfrue in Scandinavia
Suddenly, I miss childhood.
A vivid sensation of the smell of an aquarium and the cold stingy glass pressed against my nose flooded my brain. I remember the blurred and murky water behind the thick glass, the overhead lamp making the fat-bellied gold fishes visible, and the uneaten pellets aimlessly floating atop. I was one with the fishes and the plastic seeweeds (at least pretending to be). These were childhood memories I never even thought had hung around in the depths of what was tucked and forgotten. Now I am remembering every detail like a light that has been switched on.
I had those silly imaginations where I shrunk and dove into the aquarium. I wanted to swim into its slimy, algae-riddled water, and throw myself onto its bed of pebbles and watch it explode in midwater and fall back down slow-mo until I am all buried in it. I was in love with the ocean in whatever form it took. I have wanted to become a Mermaid since then—a silly dream that lingered as far as I can remember. I wanted to live in the ocean where there is absolutely no boundaries. Its depth and vastness used to haunt me as a child, but as much as its mystery gave me chills down my spine, I wanted to surrender to its perils or maybe the absence thereof in its tranquility. To be a mermaid was a ludicrous dream, yet I held onto it as if it was the only thing that ever mattered in this life. I still feel that same throbbing LUST when I see the ocean, so much that I have convinced myself that I was indeed a mermaid from a life before this.
Now as I write this little note down, I am actually at work. Graveyard shift causes survival hormones to send jolts of electricity to my brain, hence the flood of thoughts. Or maybe this is my way of wasting the hours til I am bound home and, finally call it a day. Because now I realized that this is REALITY. There’s no such thing as magically turning into a mermaid and returning home to friends and family who reside in the abyss off the Marianas Trench. There is only me now worrying about every minute where one thing could go culpably wrong and praying that everything will be alright. Someone is under my care and supervision, and this is now my job. I’m not exactly charmed about it but it isn’t grim as well. Undaunted despite of this not being my comfort zone, but what scares me actually draws me close even more.
Everything that I chose to be now is downright the opposite of the magical creature I wanted to be. Life is as real as a knife slitting through my skin. Don’t get me wrong. I am where I wanted to be. It takes an intestinal fortitude to face life realistically, they say. Because at the end of the day, no other sh-t can pay the bills than what you earn for a living. Being a magical creature cannot buy you a bottle of Ginger shampoo from the most rip-off french cosmetic shop. And definitely, the ocean is not a livable niche for a two-legged woman like me.
But does this mean everyone of us should stop dreaming and let reality bore us to death? Not with me. I have made an ingenious map of my behavioral pattern… relating my surrealistic ideals as a child to my adulthood ambitions. Maybe just like my young self, I am drawn into unliveable niches in life. I find an ocean with zero chance of survival so luring that I like swimming through its perils. Maybe being safe and comfortable, doesn’t make me feel safe and comfortable. I feel like I know nothing about my new role. In fact, I am terrified. In fact, mortified. But just like the young version of me who wished to become a mermaid and pretended to be one, I lived through life with that redundant thought and it became my reality. Maybe this play pretend, this repetitive make-believe that I have the guts to make it through unliveable niches eventually becomes the palpable truth.
I have packed my bags and left a place that was my home for 27 years. I am lost in translation in Scandinavia. I have the faintest idea how life is gonna be from hereon.
But I am a mermaid. And I can f*ckin do this.
It gets harder everyday to be happy with someone else, when I am already happy by myself.
The city winks a sleepless eye.
Been stuffin’ me self to the brim
At the end of the day, I just want someone to walk me home, clench my hands in his warm pockets, and never let them go.
That even if we have nothing exciting to say, that even if it gets repetitively mundane… he knows that we can’t last a day without each other.
Flowers and chocolates are not obligatory.
You know, just someone who’d love me honestly and completely. Who’d look beyond my flaws.
Someone who’d stick around hrough my shitty-ness and hormonally imbalanced days. Not necessarily forever but forever is allowed in my vocabulary.
Til then, I’m gonna curl up here and feel queasy about that corny little blog I just impulsively wrote… like an armadillo.
Don’t be another. Be another original.
Among all things, I think pizza is an indulgence. Today, I had my second chance at eating at Pepe’s Pizza here in Oslo which I somehow never felt guilty for. The past few days have been a marathon of multigrain cereals, multigrain crackers, and multigrain shit everything. I ate away all the stress and sadness and somehow relived what once was an enthusiastic version of myself. I enjoyed our shrimp pizza with garlic sauce and found a piece of heaven on earth with the 1 ½ slices I devoured, indeed. Thank you for the treat, Ate Hesa. On our first month of salary, I swear I’m gonna do just the same for you. AND AGAIN, at Pepe’s Pizza where we could also ogle the cute waiters? Just kidding.
Lovin’ my new bag so much. I just had to snatch it off the H&M rack.
Mai Quel smiling at whoever he was talking to. Lovebug I suppose?
Three hungry people at Karl Johan’s Gate.
Oh you one dirty bastard, you! I just wanna eat you all up.
Our favorite hvitløk saus (meaning garlic sauce) of all time!
Ta med! = Take out! There are so many uttryker (expressions) I gotta get used to.
Meanwhile at Aker Brygge, there’s another branch I really think has also an eye-catchig interior.
Im coming back again for another indulgence. :) Fo sho.