Yes, We Cannes!

Let me tell you about the French: They are the most giving, charitable, polite people in Europe. Always smiling and waving hello, holding the door, never pushing in line, and always willing to help you understand whatever is being spoken. They never pee on the street, and when a girl walks by, they simply keep their comments to themselves and tip their hat in respect. And they smell great.

If you believed any of that, Ive got some Francs I'd like to sell you. I hate to perpetuate stereotypes, but for the most part, everything you've heard is true. Rude. Arroagant. And that's just the cats. The French believer that everyone in the world should speak French, not English. Yet many deperately want to be and act American. Many times here in the South of France, Ive encoutered people who immediately start speaking French to me, and when I tell them (in French, thank you) that I dont speak French, they all do this little thing where they lean back and go "Ohhh..." and look me up and down. It's the only country in Europe Im told where they are surprised when they encounter someone who doesnt speak French. Yet they all speak English here, but dont want to admit it.

The French Rivera! I arrived in Marseille to find that the Sun was still shining somewhat. Apparently, the locals say that the weather is uncharacteristically (i spelled that wrong) wet. Here's me in a border town of Spain and France. Not my first baguette, but my first apparently that Ive tried to play like a guitar.





I took this really awesomely cheesy tourist train to the top of the hill to go to a church that looks out over Marseille.





Here's me being American.





So many building way down below, and they all look the same. And check out that pink eye dispenser - only 50 cents!





Very windy hear. I was happy to be wearing a new shirt. H&M is everywhere in Europe. (yea!)





The first thing I noticed when I arrived in Marseille: trash. Trash is everywhere.





My host Jorin (left) and some of his friends. He was one of the lucky ones to have a balcony. We spend time angering birds with our presence.





Jorin jamming on the guitar, and me on the harmonica. Theres a sweet video of this, but like everything else in France, this computer is stubborn, slow, and hates me.





NICE! Here in Nice the beach is all covered in rocks. No sand. And there are bulldozers combing the beack 2 or 3 times a day. Is this a weird sight or what?





A cool sight here: This boring sculpture is only mildly entertaining because its the birds favorite bathroom. Zoom in and look at the top. ahahaha





I snapped this Asian couple videotaping themselves throwing rocks into the ocean. They were having so much fun. This was fun to watch.





This woman, Theresa, is famous here. She was actually in my guidebook by name. She makes this egg type pancake called "socca" and its really good (pictured in front of us). She found out that i was from America and started showing me pictures of her two very attractive daughters who live in New York, and boasted that she was going there tomorrow. I dont think I ever saw her without a cigarette.





This old French man caught on that I was trying to take his photo.





Today took a day trip to Monte Carlo, which sounds great but actually turned out to be a snoozer. They are all set up for the Grande Prix, so until that happens, all the streets are blocked off with these big bleachers. But just imagine fast cars here.





Then I took the train the other directions and went to Cannes! I met up with this other couch surfer guy I had never met before and we explored the city.





Today was opening day of the Cannes Film Festival! It was PACKED.





Check out all of the semi professional photographers trying to catch a glimpse of the celebs. A French policeman grabbed my arm once because i wasnt walking exactly where he wanted me to be. By this time, I was sick of the French, so I shook him off and told him to watch it, and then he and three other policemen mad-dogged me as I walked away. Whatever, Pierre.





Here's all the professional photographers in tuxs snappig pics of celebs on the red carpet. I saw Sean Penn, Dennis Hopper, Eva Longoria, Aishwarya Rai, Natalie Portman, Julianna Moore, and Danny Glover. Click here to see Eva Longoria.









Here's Natalie Portman.





My new friend Adam caught me in front of the free beach movie screen. They'll be showing such films as Enter The Dragon and Blazing Saddles here for a week and a half.





The gem of the Festival - Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull preimeres on Sunday here. I thought about trying to come back for it, but seriously, its a zoo, and it would just be arm and arm with tourists. I cannot wait to see this film!






I dont think my videos are gonna appear in this post. Again, I blame the French. Off to Italy tomorrow for some more beach action. Dont know where Im staying, but it will be an adventure for sure!

The Rain in Spain falls Mainly on the Plain....and apparently, its all Plain

Musings from a Starbucks window:


They mostly scrunch their shoulders. The few that are planners brought an umbrella, not that it helps. Inside here, it's warm and familiar. A motely crue of travlers and locals in dark clothes try to make the most of a rainy day. Starbucks is Starbucks anwhere. Same "art", same music, same soft and carefully planned lighting.


Outside the window, compacted pedestrians struggle with incorigable unbrellas that pop in and out of shape with the crankiness of a small child in a high chair. All sizes and shapes, it doesn't matter, they all got the same memo. And all these people respond the same way the their dilemma: frustration, irritation, and impatience. A non verbal argument takes place: "Ok, if you work for me now, then I promise to fold you up properly when we get home, and even tie that little strap around you and fast it with the velcro".


I love watching people come through the door from the rain. It's like they've crossed some sort of finish line. Congratulations, you've made it kind soul. For your efforts and courage in braving the elements, you are rewarded with over-priced legal addictive drugs, and a random rotation of John Coltrane and bands that want to be U2. Take a load of in any of the four first class seats (purple plush chairs by the window) or second class seats (wooden chairs everywhere else).


Those who choose to pass by this mecca continue on in playing the same game. Unbrellas shapped like martini glasses tell me the wind is still working just fine, yet the trees are amazingly still. Being trapped indoors on a rainy day is like being on time out. Sorry, you can't go out and play. Sit there until you're ready to be sorry.

~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~

Barcelona was mostly a bust. Over a couple of hours sitting there at that Starbucks reading and writing, I talked to several people, and in the evening went out with a few new friends. But when I woke up the next morning in the hostel (to a very loud French guy on the floor below - who I shushed through an open window), the rain was actually pouring harder than the day before. When I found out that my hostel was booked solid for the evening, I took that as my cue to leave. I really only walked up and down a very crowded tourist boulevard, saw one church, and hung out with a few friends at night. So, not really an entirely wasted day, but instead of 3-4 sunny days in Barcelona, I was back in the train station 24 hours later buying a ticket to Marseille. I've been in Marseille for a day now, but that's the nest post. Here's at least some pictures from my rainy day in Barcelona.


Next to my hostel off of the "Ramblas" (main drag), was this awesome market. Very huge, and selling sooo much fresh food and goods. Overly crowded as well because of the rain. This turned out to be the main attraction for me in Barcelona. I went here three times.





Countless stands like these sold every kind of fresh seafood you could imagine. Lots of tourists taking pictures, sure (guilty), but many serious shoppers too.





This lady was a master with that cleaver. Every time I came by she was there, cutting fish with broad chops within an inch or so of her fingers. Everyone was mesmorized by that cleaver. She wasn't the only butcher with one, but she knew how to use it. A prime location near the entrance to the fish area didn't hurt either.






The colours in this market were amazing. It made me so hungry. I ate a lot here, not to worry.





This was probably about the 4th attempt at this next picture. People kept walking right in front of me, so that half of the frame was all elbow. By the time I got this one, the butcher here was wise to me, and was giving me the stink eye. Click on this to check out that stare.





It's almost beautiful, until your realize it's all dead pig legs hanging there. But then you realize that ham is soooooo tasty, and it's alll right.

**warning** The picture after this one is pretty graphic in terms of animal parts, so put a hand over it or something to skip to the one after if that kind of thing makes you squirm**





This is totally crazy. They have certain butchers who only sell organs. I can't imagine a recipe calling for a skinned goat head, but just in case, this is your guy. Check out the brains in the plastic container at the top right corner. Dont miss that one tag in the goats eye.





Out on the Ramblas, there's always a show for pedestrians. Also doubles as a distraction for pickpockets.





With new friends, I went to this restaurant where all the food is on counters like this in appetizer portions. Your bill at the end is determined by how many toothpicks are left on your plate. It works on the honor system. Very good food here - a bit pricey - about $2 a stick, but very good.





We found this red V. I think I may have relatives here??





After this I stayed up chatting with people at the hostel, but the next day I was one my first of three trains to the south of France. More on that in the next post...

The Weather Had Other Plans

So, Barcelona is supposed to be great, right? I´m sure it is, if it didn´t look like a swimming pool right now. It´s dumping buckets. I got in this morning from Madrid, and since I stepped out of the Metro, its been raining at varying intensities. I tried walking around with my guide book to look at the sights, but trying to hold an umbrella that continues to turn inside out and a guidebook at the same time is pretty impossible.

So, three cheers for Starbucks. I sat inside for an hour and chatted with some peeps from Iceland. Now Im back at the hostel - couldnt get a couchsurfing host for tonight - drying off. I may read for a while or something, I dont know. The TV behind me has gifted me in the past half and hour with: James Blunt, Lionel Richie, and Jewel.... yeah. If the weather (or music video selection) continues like this, I think I´ll just go on to the south of France a couple of days early. I guess not every city is gonna be great. Too bad though, everyone and their dog was telling me that Barcelona was the bees knees.

Off to continue my adventure in the pages of a Hemingway classic...

Boomerang

In the last 72 hours, I´ve been to Lisbon, Portugal and back to Madrid in Spain, where I now sit in a musky, sweaty internet cafe listening to random conversations in Spanish and the clickedy-clack of dozen of keyboards. You see, I was all on track to fly out of Portugal this morning on the plane flight that I purchased several months ago to leave at 10:10am. Well, this certain European airline decided to change my flight to 12 hours later, to leave in the evening. They leat me know about a month ago (I got the email in Liverpool), but since I´m traveling so much, I cant really keep track of every little detail. I pinned it in the back of my mind, and when the time came that it was about 3 days from the flight, now they tell me its too late to get another flight. I guess I could just be typing here "I missed my flight", but I paid for an hour here and I might as well use it all up, eh?

So, I got my money back, surprisingly, and took another overnight train back to Madrid. On Friday I take a morning train to barcelona, and get this - both train tickets combined are cheaper than the plane ticket! Bahahahhaha, take that stupid airline.

I´m so glad to be back in Spain. Portugal, while charming, had crappy weather, much like the UK. I think I saw the sun once, right before I left, of course. Portugal is kind of "old Europe" - not as develped and not as loud and brazen as say Spain or Germany (i hear). Sounds quaint, but you can spend a lot of time twiddling your thumbs in Portugal. So peace out I said, and back to big cities with all kinds of culture. Madrid is hopping right now - they are celebrating 200 years independance from Napoleon, and the celebration goes all the month of May. Im hoping to catch some Flamenco dancing tomorrow night before heading off to Barcelona.

And now, some pictures of the last three days......

First, starting with my most recent Madrid host, Mike. He´s an English professor here. Just imagine that really cool professor you had in college that made you understand or like something you had previously been uninterested in, and became a friend to you as time went on. I get to stay with that guy. Take a close look at the two pictures on the wall. Mike snapped the one of the right of a woman rushing out of a subway to kiss that guy. Then he snapped the one on the left a second later, and noticed that the guy reading the book was in both pictures, so he put them together (almost) on the wall. If you cant see it because of the glare, trust me.

Here I am on the night train to Portugal. L-R; Christian, from South America, Hiro from Tokyo, me, and another Brian, this one from Dublin. Hiro was so funny - not your typical Japanese guy. After two beers, he was slapping us all on the back like a Texas oilman and handing out his card to keep in touch. Brian was Irish, but had lived in Austrailia for a time, so every other sentence sounded either Irish or Australian. At 2am when we crossed the border, the train stopped for over a half an hour, so we all crowded out onto the platform. The bartender, Claudio (taking the picture here) had befriended us by then, so he was one of the guys at that point.




In Portugal now. First stop: a great flea market. I picked up a cool little blue army man that will be making appearances in future photographs. Here´s me testing out this bicycle.





Being riduculous, yes.





This one´s for my friend Tyler back in CA. This is the Portuguese Tyler. Even looks like him! This guy made all his own shirts and designs on his own screenprinting machine and sells them at several flea markets. I saw him at two different ones. My fav designs: The trumpet blowing butterflies on the little girl, and the flowers emerging from the machine gun. love you tyler, man. Follow your dreams, baby.




Just a beautiful little part of Portugal. Dont miss the man smoking in the window.






One of my favs from Portugal. Old men gather in parks everywhere and play cards like its the world championships everyday. They take it so serisously. About 10 seconds after I snapped this, the game was over and they all dispersed. Just in time!




You could hear this ice cream man about a quarter mile away. His motorbike sounded like a Kamakazi airplane. The pollution coming out of the back didnt let you forget it anytime soon either.





Can someone please explain this one to me?





This old woman was the third woman in five minutes to fuss over the correct way to wrap these flowers. I just stood there in the doorway and watched. I´m not sure she even saw me.




A dinner of sardines! They were soooo good. Very salty.





Here´s the coast.








Back to SPAIN! I arrived this morning on a night train - the same one from three days ago. Yes, not only the same train but it was the same bartendar that hung out with us out on the platform, the same staff and porter, and even one of the same guys from my room! And he and I had the same bed number assignments! Although last night, instead of hanging out with the guys, I spend 2 hours talking with an eldery but feisty Australian couple and their daughter-in-law. The man, who introduced himself as ¨Montgomery¨ (which I soon found out was his last name - he just liked saying that better first than ¨Frank¨), took pride in the fact that he had never worn or owned a pair of jeans or a T-shirt. Crazy. We all sat around, ate cheese and bread, and talked about everything from American politics to Japanese karaoke to how much they loved South Park. Sooo awesome. Sleeping on night trains is over rated. I wish i had a picture of them!



The celebration in Spain continues. Today I got to see a wonderful free concert outside of the Royal Palace.








These soldiers all took pretty good pleasure in making the rookie soliders they just passed (not pictured) salute every single one of them seperately. hahahaha






That´s all for now folks! Gonna go read some Hemingway now.