Until Next Time (or lottery win)

Well there it goes. A month of unreal memories in the bag.

Stayed at a hotel last night in Madrid's finest suburban office park near the modern Barajas airport. Hotel Nuevo Boston is the second 10/10 accommodations that we've found, so we felt obligated to kick back by the pool for the afternoon and argue with the lifeguard about why she was not letting us seek shade. Perhaps she thought that Jessasita, my Portuguese wife, was immune to the sun.  

Naturally migrated to the hotel buffet (whaaaaat) at 9pm and ate our faces off before 14 hours of traveling. Flight to Frankfurt was easy and we had a spare seat - which is good as Graham's hips now occupy 1.25 regular seats, ate some Bratwurst at the airport and then loaded onto our Air Canada Rouge flight/sardine tin. Much to our pleasure, this was somehow not a Rouge flight but rather a real airplane with real flight attendants and tv's. Add in bulkhead seats, free wine, and excessive legroom and we're doing just fine! Still scratching our heads how it turned into a decent Air Canada flight. 

Thanks for reading along and if you're interested in financing our next trip to the South Pacific, please send post dated cheques to either one of us. 

Jess's final memory of Europe:

Graham tries to hop the moving sidewalk handrail in Frankfurt airport. Upper body makes it over, foot gets stuck under handrail. Desperate scramble as ginger faceplants onto tile floors with foot still in moving handrail. Nervous laugh, dented shin, sore ego.

Til EurAwesome2019 hits the Southern Hemisphere,

Jesserschnitzel + Grahamburgler

Tho Many Thingth to Thay

If Barcelona was a food, it would be pumpkin pie. Graham loved it that much. 

If Barcelona was a drink, it would be wine... and Jess would drink too much of it, which she did. We're still trying to figure out who is enabling who in this relationship. Also, Jess's Oath of Sobriety (v2.0) sounds like it'll be making its infamous return. 

What were we going to say again?

Oh yes, Barcelona. Or "Barthelona" since every Spaniard seems to have a lisp... lithp?

For a city that is the second largest in Spain, what a beautiful place. It feels as laid back as Valencia, has beaches as nice as world famous Wasaga Beach (whaaat?!) and people in the service industry who short change you where possible. 

Now, where to begin? Let's start by talking about how we've been finding our way in these foreign cities because it is a process. The night before we go to a new city we Google the hotel in relation to the train station and then we take screen shots on our iPhone. When we arrive at the station we look at the screen shot and then follow the map. Seems like a good idea, right? Well it is until the 28th day of travel because on this day when we came out of the station we looked at the map and did not have a clue which way to go. Sometimes we forget to plan our next day whilst totally clear in the head. This was apparently one of those times, so we flipped a coin and went left. Nope. So we went right. Nope. Forwards? Nope. Surely, it must be behind us then! Nope. 15 minutes later it was to the left. Wandered a bit and found the brand spanking new Hotel Ayre, which was a pleasant, modern surprise. The only thing missing from the room is one of those lovely little facewashing basins that strangely sit beside the toilet in most of our other hotels. 

Dropped our bags, tended to some uncomfortable sunburns and headed out for lunch. Graham jokingly told the waiter to fill Jess's wine glass/stein up to the brim and he happily did so. Jess was quite funny touring around for the rest of the day. Saw the Arc de Triomf (yes, the real one), Sagria Familiar church (wacky Disney-esque castle church, obviously under repair because we showed up), and homeless people. 

We found some salami, cheese and Cava to snack on before dinner and watched some Spanish music videos while doing so. Headed over to the city's Gothic Quarter which is a funky collection of artsy buildings, narrow cobbled streets and Chinese vendors selling everything from YOLO tshirts to flamenco dresses. Ended up finding a tapas restaurant which offered sangria jugs and tapas plates ranging from chicken curry to chili con queso. Very delicious and fun spot. Being true Spaniards, we didn't finish our meal until 11:30pm.

Woke up the next morning to housekeeping knocking at the door at 9am asking if we'd like our room cleaned. Call us conventional, old fashioned even, but we both prefer to be out of the bed before it is made. Grumpypants Graham and Shutyourpieholegraham Jessica emerged but disappeared once we went to find some caffeine and the best pastry experience to date for Jess. Then headed down to the waterfront for a lengthy tour, some drinks and tapas, obviously. Naturally sat down at a lovely patio but for some reason the conversation wasn't flowing between us. Some may think it's because we've been traveling for 28 days and we've run out things to say but actually we were both fully involved in taking in our surroundings. We've added two pictures of the two different views we had. We'll let you decide who was looking at what. 

Distracted perhaps, we tried to find our way home. Like a couple of complete boobs (uhh?!), we took an hour to walk a route that should have taken 20 minutes. This includes walking around the same church TWICE somehow and for those of you that think Venice is a bitch to navigate, I encourage you to try Barcelona. 

After resting our feet for a bit at the hotel bar (and researching Groupon for 2 for 1 rehab specials) we were back to the waterfront for our final nice dinner in Spain. Barcelona has a waterfront promenade that attracts alot of characters, so we settled on a seaside restaurant where we could observe both the sunset and the trainwreck of inexperienced rollerbladers trying to avoid first time bicyclists. Truly a very memorable and dare I say romantic evening under the stars to tell the truth UNTIL AMERICA SHOWED UP. Bizarre couple that felt the need to read aloud (and very loud) online reviews of our restaurant as they were waiting for their drinks. And then discuss what it feels like to go unconscious. And then when they asked the waiter for a suggested fish to try, they also asked to use his phone to they could Google what the fish tasted like. Amurica apparently wanted something not too fishy but not white; muscle-y but not fleshy; and something local, "not from Alaska". Who needed a dinner show!

We splashed around in the sea for a bit and got an Emma Rohmann moon-tan amongst the homeless people sleeping on the beach, and who likely woke up the next morning in another city (the waves were massive!). Enjoyed a casual walk home and learned that the Indian guys selling water by day turn into marijuana retailers at night. We also came across an Armin van Buuren concert, which appears to be the biggest thing in Barcelona since The Wiggles World Tour. And then of course we came across a... ahem... pantsless obese prostitute on the walk home. Luckily we had a side/back view. 

Never a dull moment in this land of selfish, deodorentless people. 

Til next time,

Jessasita and Grambino 

Totally Topless Tanlines

Well it seems that out last angst-ridden post got some attention, so thanks to those who sent a message back! On that note, we'll provide a more positive and detailed update on our experiences living on the sun.

Took the late train out of Seville after touring around and finding and tapas places that were open on Sundays. Some good finds (spicy potatoes, tuna steak with peppers, potato and prawn salad, etc) and in line with our alcohol marketing theme, some delicious Cruzcampo cervezas - the beer of Spanish champions since 1904.

Turns out that we'd accidentally booked first class tickets for the evening train to Valencia. Had to go through security, get a patdown from the bouncer, meet the DJ, and then we boarded the train, which had rich, mahogany walls, and leather-bound seats. We appeared to be the only tank-topped patrons aboard. Didn't get kicked out of our seats, so did something right!

We enjoyed some more Cruzcampo aboard the cafeteria car, where a small Spanish child kept pointing at Graham saying, "Rojo , rojo". The father smiled and said in english, "he likes your cap". Now, I don't know a lot of Spanish, but I'm pretty sure the boy was pointing and saying "ginger, ginger", as if he was seeing an extinct species. "Extinct, no. Precious, yes" whispered Graham.

Arrived in a sweltering Valencia around 10:30pm. Very impressive city and the 3rd largest in Espana. Checked in right downtown at Hostal Venezia and headed out for dinner. Food is easily 3x more expensive (than Seville) in the touristy quarter but enjoyed some shrimps in a vat of oil and garlic. Came back to find that our room had heated up nicely to about 50'C (no joke) and after trying to convince ourselves that we were being soft, called down to the front desk. Got a new room at 1am and the AC worked just fine. Crisis averted.

Awoke shivering in 16'C air, and then headed to the Mercato Central for some meat, fruit, pastry and caffeine for breakfast. Huge flea/farmers market right in town where Jess pondered purchasing her first pigs feet or goose with head intact... Figured it wouldn't fit in luggage so she held off. 

Then we made the bright decision to get out of the middle of the city where it was already 39'C at 11am and head to the beach. The topless beach. Boing! We rented an umbrella and shade bed to sit and enjoy the Mediterranean. Graham lost his sunglasses to the sea so it made it very difficult to covertly stare at all the women around him. One of the gyspy's obviously saw him in crisis and quickly came over to sell him 10euro oakleys. Graham haggled him down to 4euros and then was able to creep again... With even darker lenses? Hopefully these took the attention away from Graham's helmetcam (set up to take time lapse photos, thanks to Kyle and Kathy Jordan).

We thought that the Portuguese sunscreen we bought would have been helpful for protecting us from the sun. Maybe that's a poor assumption on our part, because Graham looks like a piece of medium rare roast beef today, and Jess looks Portuguese with a large patch of Sriracha on her back. Carrying the packs this morning was a bit of a dance, to say the least.

Wound things down with an evening visit to the restaurant district and enjoyed some paella and wine. More meat and pastry for breakfast to satisfy The Chins. 

Now sitting in poverty- I mean second class on the train to Barcelona. All out of sunscreen so we'll just see how bad the sun could really be.

Hasta luego!

Gingerbeef + Jessradish 

***Edited per Todd's request for risqué topless photos. These were the best ones that I saw all day:

To Whom it may concern:

Seeing as 1 to 2 people appear to be reading along, please refer to below for a rather factual summary of Seville, Espana:

1. It is hot in herre. Arrived and it was 43'C at 7pm. Has not cooled down since. 

2. We've been chasing shade since our arrival. 

3. We like tapas. Except 99% of this godforsaken town is apparently closed during the summer and on weekends. 

4. We've seen the sights a bit and Jess bought a fan (Graham is happy about this too).

5. If we don't hear anything further, we understand that it is no longer necessary to make these internets postings for your viewing pleasure. If this is the case, please enjoy one final picture of us in Europe. 

Hasta luego!

Grahumpy y Jessacynic

An ode to Portugal

Bom dia from a bus somewhere in the Portuguese desert!

Well, it's official. The rest of our accommodations and hosts will suck in comparison to InPatio Guesthouse of Porto. Had a good flight from Rome to Porto on TAP Airlines, kind of the most amazing airline ever. Delicious lunch served on the plane (cod filet + chicken) and free, unlimited wine. Bravo, TAP.

Porto airport was brand new and the transit system is clean, cheap and efficient. Got down to the waterfront in about 30 minutes and found InPatio. Things seemed to good to be true from the minute Graham received his gluten free meal on the plane so we (mostly Jess) were hesitant to see our accommodation. But man did Fernando and Olga deliver. The room was spectacular and it took 3 minutes to walk to the best part of Porto. We say "best part" because there are about 40 patios, restaurants and pubs lining the waterfront, which in turn is lined with old port-carriers (boats). See pics for details. 

We happened upon Porto's once a year food festival which had a large concert by a very greasy Portuguese man (Ricky Martin we thought?). Then found beer for a euro and people watched. Lots of tourists around but very laid back place. Then had a a jug on sangria right on the water, as it seemed appropriate for the moment!

That evening we of course, could not eat with all the tourists so Graham found a hole in the wall restaurant where they were serving meat on a stick. This is also where we learned some Portuguese tourist tricks. They give you bread, butter, olives, and pate when you sit down and we take it as hospitality. In reality, they take it as another 10 euros added to the bill. Lesson learned! 

Stickmeat was amazing and hosts were very friendly - not a word of English but we survived and even got what was ordered. Then off to the harbour for a nightcap of port and off to bed at our retreat. 

Next morning awoke to a wonderful 5 course breakfast with buns made for Graham's digestive requirements. Too kind of you, Olga. Add meat, cheese, yogurt, jams caffeine and fruits and we were set for the day. Rented some bikes and toured the Atlantic seawall for about three hours and earned some sore asses as a result. Big leather bike seats + 25'C x ( time/cobbled streets) = the purchase of 2 donuts for comfort. Took a ferry (read: man's personal boat) across the rio for a buck in order to get a taste of old world Porto. Small fishing village with authentic fish fry for lunch. We had shrimp the size of sausages and salmon steaks the size of... steaks. Very cool experience!

Dropped the bikes off and headed to Graham's birthplace (we think). W+J Graham's Port is located up a large hill and we opted to work up a thirst that only a pint of port could satisfy. Took a tour, saw bottles from the 1800s and they will soon be releasing a few bottles for 5500 euros each. Please wire money if you would like some. Jess sampled her first port glasses too. Very diverse woman! Dinner was right on the water and again delish.

Next morning was time for a train ride to Lisbon. Showed up midday, hostel was good, Lisbon is the oldest city in Europe, etc. Blew through there and don't have much to write about it. There are lots of hills and tourists. 

Next day, off to the Algarve coastal resorty unofficial British tourist destination town of Faro, Portugal. Never ending train ride of 4 hours on the milk run train that stops at almost every hamlet on the way south from Lisbon. Bloody milk run! Train was full of characters - teens drinking white wine on the way down, woman "secretly" smoking in the washroom and Spanish-Portuguese arguments about wrong seats. Swear the train ran through New Mexico for about 3 hours with nothing to see. I feared that Graham was going to run out of things to say but fortunately the gerbils kept running in his head.

Arrived in Faro mid afternoon and had the same feeling you get upon arriving in the Caribbean. Not a cloud in the sky, 30'C and very coastal feel. Hotel Eva is located right on the towns central marina and thanks to B+P for putting us up here in swank luxury of a 4 star hotel. Rooftop pool got swam hard, poolside bar got familiar with a certain ginger and sunscreen did it's job. Given that we're getting a reputation in the region as avid festival attendees, Faro decided to put on their biggest party while we were in town - the once a year Festival Rio Formosa! 

Dozens of restaurants dishing out paella, shrimp, sangria and dirty white wine to a few thousand of our closest friends. Add in a huge show with dancing/singing/guy with skullet playing keyboard, and you've described Graham's dream come true? Nope, just the Festival. Jess got into a danceoff with a woman in a Canadian tuxedo, both dancing casual-aggressive to unknown Portuguese pop music. 

The next morning came early (WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING?) and we feasted on a gourmet buffet breakfast. Examined some nasty British sunburns, did some laundry and then repeated the previous days festivities. To a tee. See previous 2 paragraphs if you're unclear. A totally relaxing and charming town for these two bronzed Canadians to hang out, that's for sure.

Now we're sitting on a bus listening to what I can assume is the world's biggest douchbag as he is whistling and singing some merry tunes for all to hear. 

Hopefully neither one of us gets too fed up and proceed to act on the thoughts running through our head. 

Obrigado!

When in Rome!

Buon giorno!

Train ride to Rome remained dull, thank goodness. Arrived midday and immediately felt the heat and more so the humidity that everyone has warned us about! Thermometer said 32'C but Jess swears it was at least 49 with humidity. 

Lots of gypsies upon arrival and the train station is very impressive/huge! Luckily our hostel was 5 blocks away so we didn't have to carry our packs too far. Checkin took about 30 minutes because of an overly-inquisitive French broad infront of us (Ted + Thomas, I'm looking at you). However, the hotel seemed very nice on first impression. 

When we finally checked in the custodian of the nice hotel came out of a back room and told us to follow him to our room. So we did. He took us outside. Down the street. Around the corner. And past 2 Italian army officers,  who were standing guard on the corner. Turns out we were in the hostel part of the hotel, which was located behind the Russian embassy. Saved our Ukraine jokes for another day. 

Dropped our bags and headed out to explore the city for a good chunk of the afternoon. Naturally, we ran into Kyle and Kathy Jordan again randomly on the street. They'd just finished a 5 hour walking marathon around town and were saturated (still smelled ok though ie. Not like an Italian). Just a bit of a glimpse into our next few hours. 

We boogied around Roma and checked out the Colloseum, neighboring ruins and the Palazzo to name a few. Took alot longer than anticipated and by the 3 hour mark, these native Ontarians realized they could no longer take the humidity. We ended up paying an absurd price for water and Gatorade to try and quench our thirst but not too long after realized a beer was the only thing that would help us home. We stopped at the closest pub and replenished before making our way back to the hostel. 

It was pretty late by this point so we went to the nearest restaurant for an okay meal and then off to sleep. A great sleep!

Next morning, went for breakfast at Rome's BEST rated bakery and it did not disappoint! Then grabbed some tickets for a hop on hop off (HOHO) tour which made life much more pleasant than walking. Took in a formal tour of the colloseum. Guided by ultra-ripped sex bomb historian, Paolo, we learned lots and enjoyed staring at Paolo. Of course this entire paragraph is written through the eyes of Graham. 

The rest of the day was relaxing and lots of ruins are under repair. There was no water in Trevi Fountain, but lots of scaffolding; Spanish Steps were under repair and unrecognizeble; the Pantheon was free with nice line up so we toured in our risqué tanktops and used flash photography accidentally. On a side note, our tank lines would have us in the running for Mr. and Mrs. Alabama. 

Met up with Kyle and Kathy at a local Bangladesh-Italian restaurant around the corner (our places were 2 mins apart). Graham owed Jess a litre of prosecco from a lost bet, and settled things with a jug of the good stuff. 

Hanging out at the Rome airport awaiting our flight to Porto. Flight to Ibiza is boarding at the gate beside us and looks like a mix between Jersey Shore and a Vanilla Ice concert. 

See you in Porto!

Jessicaolo + Grahamcules 

And when in Rome, why not unite under Restaurant Africa?!

Reflections of Italian People

For those following along, the woman on the train did not throw her son out the window (and he knew it).

Let's call this next post a study of humanity. 

Siena treated us well, and next up was the Amalfi Coast town of Sorrento. The train ride into Florence, then Napoli was good (and 300kph) so we arrived in Napoli and of course thought we should venture to the land where pizza was invented. Turns out this was a horrible idea. We later learned that this city had an east side and a west side. West side has lots of money, history, tourists. The east side is comparable to East Hastings...guess where we toured around? After refusing our first tries at heroin (I know, live a little, right?) we 180'd back to the statione and waited for our train to Sorrento. 

Here things went from bad to a whole lot worse. We had to go to the basement of the train station to catch a regional train to Sorrento. But of course, first it had to stop in every gyspy camp along the way. We had a 6 year old kid with a mystery limp... Only when he passed tourists. We had a 10 year old "mother" with a 1 year old baby... Begging while on a cell phone. Then the train broke down. Sweating more than Graham on a good day, Jess was about to murder the next accordion player that came through the packed railsauna. And then I saw them coming. 

Held jess back as the duo of accordianists played great oompa loompa music in her right ear... and then they made the mistake of asking for money.

Fast forward a couple of court dates, bail money and an hour and a half of standing holding on to our packs for dear life and we made it to Sorrento! We found the first place that sold cold beer and threw our bags on the ground. Sweet relief! Then wandered the resort town in search of Sorrento Inn Guesthouse. The street it claimed to be on does not exist, but with intuition and walking every street in town, we made it. Biggest room of the trip to date and was in a bustling area of town, right near the Napoli Bay. Hosts Maria and Luigi (not even a joke) were perfect. 

Lost approx. 6 pounds of sweat that day but chins are still intact. Went to the beach and water was divine. Made friends with owner of Peronius Pub in town proceeded to start our evenings each day with pints of cold Peroni. Delicioso!

Then came a dose of Italian reality for dinner, a funny dosage at that. Got lured into a lovely, family run garden ristorante by a gracious host and then we met his Nonna. For lack of a harsh enough Italian name we called her Helga. After ordering from a nice young, maybe a little slow, man Helga approached us and spoke to us in Italian. After trying so hard to understand her, she got fed up, muttered something and then threw her hands in the air. 

About 5mintues later Helga was back and she brought a basket of bread. She again tried to talk to us in Italian and we understand pasta and pizza. So we said yes pasta, thinking she was asking what we ordered but nope we angered her again. She took the basket of bread,  shoved it into the side of Graham's arm and yelled, what we only assume was, TAKE IT! 

So we took it and enjoyed.

Turns out even Italians in the place thought she was cuckoo, but I guess everyone needs to put up with a few crazies in their family and even keep some on payroll....

The rest of our time in Sorrento was quite relaxing. No gypsies trying to sell us umbrellas, no more Helgas, just pleasant laid back people. Have enjoyed many Peronis on the beach, some GF pasta, and octopus from a fisherman. Saw a 6 year old boy whip it out on the beach a pee in between people's beach towels. Was all fun and games til his urine made it's way onto another woman's leg. No apologies from the mamma (of course).

Opted to take a van shuttle back to Napoli and learned lots from the driver Roberto. As in, driving in Italy is like Super Mario - hit an old person and get 20 points. Hit a police and get 100. More if it's a female police. But if you hit a mother and baby, its game over (all his words).

Found 1euro Peroni in the Napoli train station and enjoyed very much. Now on the train to Rome and it seems uneventful - will update you if that changes. Wish us luck finding the next hostel via a 3" iphone map!

Ciao ciao!

Jessapedo + Grespa

PS. Graham has "accidentally" walked into 2 women's bathrooms in the last 2 days. 3 times and it's no longer accidental.