From one end of the world...

(Editor's note: This is Part One of a story I have entitled "From one end of the world to another.")







Have you ever wondered why the United Kingdom is so filthy rich? There are probably several explanations and among those reasons is Gibraltar. Gibraltar is a town-country (similar to Vatican City) that neighbors Spain's Iberian peninsula. This port is the gateway to the Mediterranean Sea from the Atlantic, and serves as a military garrison for the crown. The whole thing is about 2.5 square miles, and the average piece of real estate goes for $2M (JR, Mom, you picked the wrong area to be an agent). The whole thing is bizarre; "senor" becomes "mate," tapas become fish & chips, pounds are preferred over euros, judges and barristers still wear powdered whigs, and the steering wheel is all of the sudden on the right-hand side.



(From the top of The Rock looking down. To the left you can see a glimpse of Africa, and on the right are Spanish mountains. The barges at bay are in the Atlantic, waiting to get into the Mediterranean.)



And how come you feel like you have heard of this place that was once thought to be the end of the world? Because of the Rock of Gibraltar. I'm sure that most of you have seen images of the "world's most famous rock" in a Prudential commercial; however, many of you may not have realized that The Rock is inhabited by hundreds of cinnamon-colored, tail-less monkeys (macaques). To add to all the weirdom of Gibraltar, if you happen to explore the uppermost points of the rock you must do so while fighting off brilliant miniature apes. The view from the top is spectacular in that you can see both Spain and Africa, as well as the convergence of the Mediterranean Sea with the Atlantic Ocean at the Strait of Gibraltar (above).



(The Rock and insurance are both too expensive)


Back to the monkeys. I mentioned these creatures are brilliant because I witnessed one unzip someone's bookbag, take out a pack of gummi bears, open the cellophane wrapper with his fingers, and then proceed to pop them in his mouth one-by-one, just like a lounge lizard eating peanuts. Later, I watched a pack of these fur-balls sit on a brick wall and wait for taxis to roll by. When a car would pass a monkey would leap onto the passenger's sideview mirror and ride down the mountain for 200 yards, then he would jump off onto the brick wall again. They all waited for each other, then commenced their business of trekking down the mountain. Legend has it that the monkeys traveled from Africa to Gibraltar through underwater caves and tunnels (this could actually be true b/c no one has explored the depths of Gibraltar's caves, and the cave thing make sense because there is a cathedral, known as St. Michael's, built into the rock). No one is sure how long the monkeys have been there, nor how long the Redcoats will maintain this port, but as the saying goes, "When the apes leave, so will the Brits."




(In case you were wondering, it is illegal to feed the monkeys. But, the monkeys have free reign to prey off unwitting humans. Right before this film was recorded a German boy had just left the cafeteria with a big smile on his face and a huge ice cream cone in his hand. Out of nowhere a monkey flies onto his shoulder, takes the cone and keeps the treat intact while he receives several lashes from the German boy's mother. The boy leaves in tears and the monkey dominates his dessert.)

(Editor's note 2: England doesn't own Gibraltar; England is a part of the U.K., and Gibraltar is a constituent member to the U.K.)

When in Sevilla...act like a Sevillan

For our first weekend trip we decided to visit Sevilla. Sevilla is an ancient port city in the Andalusia region of southern Spain and resembles Barcelona in two respects, a) the architecture is very Gothic; and b) its unnecessarily hot- like Columbia, SC. The major attraction is the Cathedral of Saint Mary of the See, which is third largest Christian cathedral in the world (behind St. Peter's in Vatican City and St. Paul's in London), and claims to hold the remains of Christopher Columbus. What I found to be most interesting about St. Mary's is that the church was built on top of an existing Muslim mosque, and several areas are exposed so that you can see where the original concrete framework of the mosque stops and where the cathedral's masonry begins. Also, while we were inside the cathedral, a Spanish soap opera star was being married in one of the cathedral's 40 chapels (I told you it was big). This is important to the story because we ended up following the paparazzi and befriend some of the matrimonial guests, who in turn invited us up to their 4-star hotel's rooftop-swimming pool located directly across the street from the cathedral.

(Here is a view of the hotel pool from the cathedral's tower about two hours before we got up there).



The sensation of jumping into a swimming pool on a hot summer's day is refreshing. Hanging out poolside in Sevilla with rich Spaniards is unparalleled. We didn't fit in at all, but we soaked up every moment like we were meant to be there. And we certainly didn't fit in when we had to strip down to our boxers to let our shorts dry (didn't exactly plan for the occasion).

(This is Will, Dain and I in the pool. We were pretty much giggling like teenage girls all afternoon.)




After drying off we headed across the street to a local pub to catch the Spain v. Sweden futbol match. Everyone in the bar was standing shoulder-to-shoulder and most people had either red and yellow face paint or they had Spain's flag draped across their back shoulders like a Superman cape. The game was tied 1-1 at half-time and every minute of the second half felt like a cliffhanger. You know that outburst that everyone makes when watching your favorite college football team recovers a fumble in the fourth quarter? It felt like that every single time someone from Spain had the ball inside Swedish territory. Spain ended up scoring a goal with 55 seconds left in Stoppage Time and this sent everyone into a frenzy. There was high-fives, bear hugs, and beer slinging everywhere. For a brief moment everyone was Spanish. You don't need to speak Spanish in order to scream "Gooooal!!!" at the top of your lungs. Okay, I'm no poet, or sportswriter, so I won't attempt to put anymore words into this story. Instead, watch this video. I love technology. (Caution: my film work wasn't steady so it will seem like Blair Witch Project. Or is it Cloverfield these days?).




To end the night we went back to our hostal for some complimentary wine (generous huh?), and then celebratory drinks with the Spainards. The rest evening was filled with classic hooliganism as anyone could guess. We didn't exactly feel our best on Sunday morning, but for one afternoon Dain, Will and I felt like Sevillans.

ICE STATION: ZEBRA

When I signed up for this trip I didn't know anyone else going. This meant that my living situation, particularly my assigned roommates, would be pot-luck. Being an eternal optimist, I was never too concerned with this reality, but the anticipation of living with strangers can be daunting (see, MTV's The Real World). As luck would have it, I arrived to find that a first-year student from CSOL, Dain Reardon, was here and that we were assigned to a room together with some guy named William Waring from Mercer. Turns out that Will went to Rhodes College with Douglas Rushton, Hamp Markel, and Laura Caroline Johnson, and that one night Patrick was at a late night party and ended up giving Will a US History lesson. Small world.

Our room is not big, and none of us are small guys. To illustrate, I am the third biggest guy on the trip, but the smallest in our room. Dan played football at University of Colorado, and Will thinks he is a body builder. Actually, not only does he resemble my sophomore year roommate, Steve Notery, but they act a lot alike. Our room is smaller than most hotel/motels, and we just so happened to have been assigned the room with a leaky ceiling (caused by the unit above). Dan was here first and got the double bed, I got the cot and Will has the fold-out couch. The running joke among us is that our landlord might as well throw some Granada snakes in here just to make things interesting. Quickly, we have become fast friends and we all share a common interest in blasting our Air Conditioner to full-speed in an effort to combat the sultry weather. In this vein, we decided to name our room, "Ice Station: Zebra." Anyone who has lived in Charleston for a summer would understand the luxury of A-C, and the overwhelming sensation of walking into an ice cold room on a hot day.

Time for a siesta,

Hunter

Tapa-less bars

I love tapas, I love bars, and I love free shit. Whoever came up with the slogan, "there is no free lunch," must not have ever visited Andalusia. In Granada, when you sit down at a bar and order a drink, it is delivered to you with a complimentary tapas dish. A tapa is an ambiguous Spanish term used to describe an appetizer. I say ambiguous because a tapa could be anything; it might be some bread and cheese, it might be a plate of olives, it might be a sandwich, anything. The only thing that is standard with these little culinary delights, is that they improve in stages for every drink you order in succession. Its kind of similar to the degrees of Free Masonry- the more you buy in, the more that will be revealed. One such establishment, La Bella y La Bistea (Beauty and the Beast), is very forthcoming with their tapas, and I frequent this place a lot. For 2 euro ($3.60) you get a cold beer, 2 ham and cheese sandwiches, french fries, and pasta salad. For the second beer, two pork barbeque rolls and tater tots. By the fifth beer you have to turn them away. This is the kind of heaven that Kelsey dreams about.

So when will America wake up to this awesome trend? All of you should feel deceived because a tapas bar is not a place for bachelorette parties, or somewhere for women to dress up, share drinks, and gossip over some spinach and artichoke dip or spring rolls. Meritage and Cazbah are not tapas bars. If we remain willfully ignorant of this trend any longer, then we are just like the Chinese who continue to deviantly eat rice with chopsticks even though they know we got the fork and spoon.

Maybe I am wrong, and tapas bars are the last vestige of a complimentary society that doesn't believe every enterprise has to be capitalistic. If that is the case, then I hope you get the chance to come to Granada sometime in your life.

Salud,

Hunter

Video tour of Granada

Here are some videos about Granada. Hopefully, this will give you somewhat of an idea about where I am living for the next four weeks. Enjoy.

This one is narrated in Spanish, but the scenes are awesome.



This one is in English and very informational.

Madrid

(apologies for the late response. I just got free access today.)

If you ever decide to travel out of the country I suggest not planning anything to do on the day of your arrival. When Pat and I arrived in Madrid on Thursday morning (June 5th) we were going on 30 straight hours and needed a break; except I was too excited to take a siesta. Instead, I forced some city explorations and we needed up just getting pissed about things. Friday was much better. We decided against extending our stay in a hostel in an effort to save money. So we stored our bags at the train station and headed out town. We visited The Prado museum, Spain's Royal Palace, and Madrid's Cathedral before dining out on Plaza Mayor. There, a stage was set up for some sort of traditional dance recital- they rolled out the red carpet and cameras followed Spain's high-rollers dressed in gowns and tuxedos. Afterwards, hit up the town and ended up hanging with two Guineans (West Africa) who didn't speak English. We communicated through charades and my broken Spanish and singing Bob Marley songs together. Good times.

At around 4 am, we headed to the train station (opened at five). Along the way I decided to jump out of the bushes and frighten Patrick. I ended up missing my landing and twisting my ankle. And so my inebriated bad luck has continued. To add injury to insult, I get seated next to a lady and her one-month old crying machine for the 5 hour trip to Granada (the train stopped for an hour in Aqumonte? while the engineer did some repairs). I am not sure how to describe my feeling at that time other than saying it was probably similar to Bennett's feelings after tumble-rolling down a hill in Germany and suffering a concussion.

The Trip

Patrick and I will be flying out of Greenville on Wednesday, June 4th and should arrive in Madrid early on Thursday morning. We have until Sunday to get to Granada, so we intend on making a side trip from Madrid to Seville or Cordoba on Friday afternoon. From there our paths will diverge.

Patrick's Trip: June 4 - June 26
Bascially, Patrick has no set agenda for his trek other than having to be in Munich by June 26th for his flight back to The States. Hopefully, he will stick around Granada for a few days and won't be too far away for a weekend excursion. Although Patrick hasn't made any solid confirmations he has talked about stopping in Barcelona, Nice (France), Florence, Rome, Salzburg/Vienna, and Munich, so expect something similar to that path.

My Travels: June 4 - August 4
I have to be in Granada by Sunday, June 8th to check into my apartment. Classes at Universidad de Granada (www.ugr.es) begin on Monday morning. Each week I have four hours of class on Mondays - Thursdays, and then we are free for the weekend to do any traveling we find necessary. As luck may have it, we have Friday, July 4th off; however that is only because it is a reading day before our final exam on July 5th.
After my exam on July 5th, I am catching a flight to Den Haag (the "Hague"), Netherlands for two more weeks of class scheduled for July 7 - July 18. From there, I leave for Freiburg, Germany for another two weeks of classes scheduled for July 21- August 2. And at long last I shall finally, and officially become a law school graduate.