San Sebastian

Hopped on a bus headed north. We arrived in San Sebastian after a long trip of knitting scarves and eating freshly made red-pepper hummus. The hostel was a little trek, but the "Olga's" were friendly, and thanks to Ana's Russian, we got extra special treatment.

The pintxos, or Basque version of "tapas," are not to be missed. Even for a vegetarian like myself, there was plenty to enjoy. Mushrooms as usual were the favorite. The cider, although known for being outstanding was not my favorite.

The city, a quaint sea side town with an amazing beach, was calm being that it was fall and the draw of the beaches had diminished. Perfect for our enjoyment. We hiked "to Jesus," walked along the beach, and spent a majority of our time hanging out in pintxo bars talking. The Spanish phenomenon of talking to your friends, is one that I think is lost on many Americans. I rarely go into a bar and talk to someone I don't know. In Spain, it is all about spending time with your friends. In the states I find it much more common to play games, or be in a bar with the full intent of getting drunk. I prefer the Spanish way.


The colors changing, the leaves falling, the earth consuming its waste. On our way, exploration. It is the Spanish way.
Making it to the top, being met with Jesus!

Cake Capers

no one knew what was coming . . .
Moustache Caper. . .
stolen purse . . .
finger pictures . . .
slow motion dancing. . .
surprise attacks. . .
poor Carlos. . .
goodbyes to Rach. . .

Friend's Band, sweetness at Sala TabooMoustache Pablo

romeMANIA

The potholes will never be filled, the dogs run in packs, the people have kinds eyes.

Visiting my parents in Romania for a week, I found the country to be full of beauty and sadness. Where my mother lives is one of the wealthy areas of the city, a little outside the actual metropolitain area, but run over with packs of wild dogs. The likes of which leaves my marathon runner mother, to not even atempt to walk down the street. The pot holes to their house so big that cars have been totaled getting through. The garbage in piles, but the grocery store charges 5 euro for a ripe avacado. The contrast astounds.

We tour the city a little, the variety of architecture unriveled in any European city I have been to, from amazing wood lattice work to fanciful organic balconies of art nouveau. The problem is none of them are kept up, what could be a city with some incredible prime examples of such an amazing variety of buildings, is really quite a run-down one. Getting out of the city we traveled by car, past the heaps of garbage into the countryside. Stopping off at Bron castle.
Bron Castle, the rain just as perfect as can be...