Born to Run…to Rome and Barcelona

There's this saying out there, a school of thought, a religion, perhaps…

You Never Regret Traveling and Seeing the World, Regardless of What Happens.

One year ago, I wouldn't have had any true opinions on the above sentiment. Sure I'd traveled somewhat (throughout Canada and the United States, a trip to London when I was 15), but those were all, save for my trip to Minneapolis for the NHL Entry Draft, insulated experiences where I was with family.

I knew that both Italy and Spain were on my list of countries to see, and I am incredibly fortunate that I was able to travel to both cities, the only regret being that I did not have more time.

As surprising as it may sound, traveling to Rome and Barcelona was really only my second time traveling completely alone, save for the Minnesota trip. After all, I had a teacher waiting for me at the airport when I flew from Calgary to Paris. Amsterdam/Brussels was with a mate (granted, we had known each other for only two weeks). I had no one waiting for me at Rome Ciampino Airport. I was a bit nervous, but who wouldn't be excited? What a crazy adventure. Armed with my passport, directions to my hostel, and a sense of adventure, I arrived.

I stayed at The Yellow, mainly because of its price (14 euro/night) and 90% rating for atmosphere. Traveling alone, I wanted to make friends. The hostel was nearly perfect in that sense. Small rooms (six per room), a very lively bar (open past 3am most nights), and cheap food and alcohol (one euro vodka shots, beer for under three euro, breakfast for five euro) meant that it was only a matter of time before you began meeting new people. The entire place had a loud but cozy energy to it.

A bonus was The Yellow's location, being a five minute walk from Stazione Termini, Rome's main coach and subway station.

I had a very big job interview the night before I flew out and that, combined with having to wake up at 3am to get to Paris Beauvais Airport, meant that I really was tired and clueless as to what I wanted to do in both cities. Rome I knew the obvious…Vatican City, Colliseum, Roman Forum.

We're all different animals when it comes to traveling. I have a few rules. I suppose you could call it the Optimal Salim Experience to Traveling:

• One night to go absolutely crazy. Line up the shots, because I will go and go hard for one night, with no inhibition or care as to when to call it quits. The other nights, I'll stick to the cheapest beer I can find. For one night, vodka, tequila, gin…it's all on the table.
  

• One day to do nothing but walk around. Don't have the alarm set, wake up, have a pressure free day where I've got nothing to do but take in the ambiance of the place.

•  Speak the language and talk to locals. That, to me, is the most genuine way to get a feel for the city and country. Make an effort. It wasn't hard for me in Rome. I genuinely think that Italian is the most beautiful language on Earth, and speaking it was fun. I'm a friendly guy, striking up conversations with locals is something I love doing. 

• One nice meal, over 15 euro. A nice, relaxed, high quality meal. 

• Reminding myself that it is, in fact, a vacation, and that I'll be back in these places again. No need to rush and force myself to see everything. At 21 years old, I'll have another European adventure in my creaking bones. "It's supposed to be fun, you know?"

The first night in Rome, I was exhausted. Stressful job interview the night before, waking up at 3am, fearing I'd miss my flight…I was wiped. I arrived at the hostel around 1pm, and relaxed for an hour before getting my bearings. I went to Stazione Termini to buy an Italian phrasebook, then figured out how to get to The Coliseum (right at via Cavour, continue for about 25 min, look on the left side for one of man's greatest buildings). I arrived, took some pictures, and called the family back at home. The building is phenomenal, truly. I took some pictures of the scenery surrounding The Coliseum, grabbed a slice of pizza, and headed back to the hostel. I made friends with the lads in my room, we went to the bar for a bit before I turned in. Party animal Salim called it a night at 11pm.

The next day, a roommate and I figured we'd, you know, actually go in The Coliseum and Roman Forum. The best part about traveling in the off-season is the lack of lines. Our 12 euro ticket took us exactly 30 seconds to buy. For those traveling, the audio guide is a great investment. For just four euro, the guide gives a great deal of complementary information, very easily understood.

We had a nice lunch at a family owned pizzeria, one that was quite close to The Pantheon.

Dinner was at a restaurant right beside the hostel. A group of about eight of us, including two other Canadians, had some nice pasta and wine. Very cheap place too, most dishes being around 7 euro.

That night, I had my wild night. Vodka shots for one euro, combined with the great people from the hostel and live music, meant that others were getting wild too. By my estimation, I had four beers, and eight shots. Somehow I survived, singing some karaoke with a crazy Australian too (Springsteen's Born to Run. We were awful, but it didn't matter). I remember most of the night, including the part where a security guard gave me a can of beer at 4am, six of us going through the early morning ritual of trying to find an open McDonalds (mission failed), and eventually diving headfirst into my pillow.

Surprisingly, the next morning I woke up fairly hangover-free. The weather was beautiful, I'd gotten two free pancakes from the hostel, and life was peachy. As the timing worked out, the Canadians I had dinner with the night before were going to The Vatican. Atoning for my sins was probably a good thing, so off I went.

St Peter's Basilica was amazing. Over 10 acres on the inside, the artwork, museum, Sistine Chapel…it's interesting how much energy walking through a museum can take, but your mind gets a workout with all the incredible art. We had a great, but pricey, lunch outside the Vatican afterwards.

That night happened to be the Canada/US Olympics ice hockey match. I was intent on watching it somewhere, but Europeans don't generally gather to watch hockée sur glâce. We were tipped that an Irish pub near the Coliseum would be showing the match. Us three Canadians went, and were rewarded with a crowded pub, five Euro beers, and more Canadian friends. The pub, aptly named Scholars, was lively, with many Americans watching the game. A few cheers erupted after the final whistle, with our Canadian contingent having grown to five. Sidenote: the Americans in the bar were pretty upset.

After that, it was another lively night at the hostel bar. I met even more Canadians, had a couple beers, and called it a night shortly after midnight.

My final day in Rome was spent strolling around, with the Trevi Fountain the only real touristy thing I had left on my agenda. I went there alone. The fountain is fairly close to the Coliseum and Roman Forum. This was my most relaxed day, where I could take as long or as little as I pleased. I grabbed more pizza and pasta before spending my final night at the hostel bar with some Scots who had flown from Edinburgh to watch the Scotland/Italy rugby match. I was in bed by midnight, determined not to miss my flight.

The next day, I hopped on a RyanAir plane and headed to…


Barcelona

I arrived in the morning, with the thought in the back of my mind that the gold medal hockey match was on. The weather was perfect, and the airport bus dropped me off fairly close to my hostel, Sleep Easy Green Hostel on ronda Universidad.

The hostel was great, but I'm not sure if I'd stay there again. It was in a great area of Barcelona (in the heart of the action, across from Plaça Catalunya), and priced quite well (13 euro/night), but it didn't have an atmosphere really. The Yellow in Rome made it impossible not to meet people, whereas there was very little energy at Sleep Easy. The fact that the hostel didn't have its own pub was a big reason for that, I think. It was the type of hostel where families would stay, not a 21 year old who likes a rowdy time and good adventure. That being said, the staff was excellent, I slept well, the showers were great…I'd recommend it, depending on the type of traveler you are.

I walked along ronda Universidad before ending up at George Payne, an Irish pub that had a sign outside saying they were showing the hockey game. I walked in, saw a table full of Canadian jerseys, and immediately asked if I could join them. Being Canadians, of course they said yes, and I had made some new mates. They all worked for the CBC and had just finished covering the olympics, which made for some cool stories about Sochi.

The bar, unlike Scholars, was full of Canadians. The atmosphere was surreal, with lots of Ohhhs, Ahhhhs, Shooots, and YEAAAHHHs. When the final horn went, chaos erupted. High fives, hugs, cheers…it was the greatest chaos I had ever experienced. Minutes afterwards, about 100 of us Canadians linked arms, belting Oh Canada at the top of our lungs. Someone had even brought a huge Canadian flag. What a moment. Us Canadians are one big happy hockey-loving family. All 35 million of us.

I strolled around Barcelona the rest of the day, and sigh ate my dinner at McDonalds. No crazy adventure for my first night; I was in bed before midnight.

The next day, I had a cheap breakfast at the restaurant next to the hostel. Two euro got me a nice croissant and big cup of coffee. Easily triple the price in Paris. I chatted briefly with a friendly Barcelona man, who said that I was welcome in his city. He showed me some points of interest on a map, including where not to go (Barcelona is notorious for petty crime). I walked around the city, exploring the Gaudi architecture, harbour, and las Ramblas, the famous main strip of Barcelona.

I took a free tour in the afternoon that taught me a lot about the city's history. We went to a number of historical buildings. Tom the tour guide was outstanding; very charismatic, funny, and well informed. Among the places we went to were the steps where Columbus walked to propose his trip to China (where he eventually landed in North America), the old Jewish quarter, and several 13th century churches of Barcelona.

That evening, I made a last minute decision that I'm so happy I made. I decided to go on a tapas tour. Tapas is the appetizers that Barcelona is known for, consisting of meat, seafood, and spices. I had tried some earlier in the day, but was apprehensive of eating any more due to my allergies. I figured, why not, and signed up for 13 euro. The tour was at 7pm, I barely got there in time.

On the tour, we went to a number of different bars and restaurants, sampling the food and drinking beer and wine. Oh and, of course, it was a chance to meet people. There were several Canadians on the tour, and many of the people were around my age. A group of about nine of us had been chatting for a while at the tour's final stop. It was around 11pm, and there was an appetite to discover the Barcelonan nightlife.

Off we went to a salsa bar (I can't remember its name). It took two metro rides and a walk to get there, but we made it. The music was great, atmosphere non-touristy and local…this was where Signor Salim would go if he was living in Barcelona. By the time our group decided to "call it a night" it was around 3:15am. Wild night: check.

As it so happened, our hostels all happened to be in the same area, so we decided to walk back (yes, a bit of an unsafe decision). I had hit it off with one of the Canadian girls on the tour, and we didn't have the appetite to call it a night. So, what the heck…we ended up strolling the streets of this foreign city. Probably not what our parents would have wanted, but we still threw inhibition to the wind. 

We had joked about watching the sunrise from Barcelona's famous Parc Gueill, a huge public space designed by Gaudi. By 7am, it was not a joke. The view of the city was phenomenal; the night unforgettable. What a crazy scenario. If I had decided not to go on the tour, none of it would have been possible. Spontaneous decisions always seem to lead to the best stories.

I got back to my hostel at 8:36am, after having left at 10am the day before. Out for nearly 24 straight hours. I'd call that a traveling win. 

I slept for an hour and a half, well aware that it was my final day in the incredible city. I woke up around 11am, had another inexpensive breakfast next door, practicing the very little Catalan I had picked up with the nice server, and went to Sangra Familia, the famous modernist church designed by Gaudi.

Originally I figured I'd take some pictures from the outside, but the structure was calling my name. 17 euro for the ticket and audioguide, and it was worth it. The church will not be finished until 2026, one hundred years after Antonio Gaudi died. Side note: Ted Moseby mentions Gaudi a few times in How I Met Your Mother, once referring to his beard as round, pointy and unfinished.

Inside is marvelous, unlike any other church. Trees serve as the pillars, the nativity scene so delicately carved on the outside, the four-winged cross…so many features that aren't present on any other churches.

The rest of the day, I strolled around, taking in the atmosphere of the city. I decided to have dinner at a Turkish restaurant, where I encountered the first hallucinations of my entire life…

In Paris, I rarely do the allergy dance (I can die within 20 minutes of ingesting any type of nut). I'm fairly conscious of what is on the menu, and what may send me to the hospital. At the Turkish restaurant, I told them of my allergies. They said I wasn't going to die. I suppose they were right.

I knew about five minutes into the meal that I was in trouble. I'm generally a very calm person, not reacting too much to the situation. In that respect, I didn't really indicate to the staff that I was in a serious predicament. I gently told them that I was having an allergic reaction, hence the pills I was taking (Benadryl).

Credit to the staff, they were quite nice and kind during the situation. They brought me water, took the food away, offered to make me something else, didn't charge me for the meal. This is where being friendly comes into handy…maybe they treated me better because I had made a few jokes and shaken their hands when I walked in to the restaurant a few minutes prior. They checked up on me every couple of minutes, and were quite genuine. 

What I didn't realize was that not having slept the night before, combined with four Benadryl tablets, means that you will begin seeing things. After the restaurant, I met up with the lady from the previous night for a quick beer. While with her, I began seeing cartoons in walls and animals on people's clothing. I also saw one of the seven dwarfs.  It was an interesting experience, probably the closest I will ever come to doing mushrooms. Eventually the hallucinations disappeared, and I went back to the hostel around 11. I had another early flight to catch.

I arrived in Paris Beauvais Airport the next day, tired, exhausted, and armed with some incredible memories.


And that's why I hung out with your Uncle Barney, kids…I never got where I thought I wanted to go, but I always got a great story.

Traveling and living abroad is a strange investment…you're paying to be uncomfortable. You're paying to do things you're afraid of and test your own limits. Going to strange places where strange languages and strange people live. On paper, there's no real benefit.

But maybe the best things in life aren't measured with statistics and numbers. You're only young once, they say. How many years in your life are you smart enough to navigate the streets of Rome but crazy enough to spend an entire night with people you met just hours before?

My favourite novel of all time is Tom Sawyer. I love how he'd go on his raft, up and down the Mississippi, discovering new forests and towns, not understanding the word caution. I'd like to think I'm a Tom Sawyer-type character, always up for an adventure and taking a risk in the name of a great memory. That's why I love the above quote from How I Met Your Mother. The best things in life are often the result of spontaneous decisions where we amaze ourselves with how unbelievable the results turn out to be.

After all, has anyone in human history said, "Last Thursday afternoon, I knew that on Tuesday night I'd have the greatest night of my life,"?

Memories like that tend to keep you going when life knocks you down, which it tends to do. I'm grateful for the fact that the trip reinforced the idea to me that you really have no clue where a day can lead you, and the potential magic that is out there, waiting to be believed in.

Beer, hallucinations, romance, sunsets, McDonalds…how's that for Leaving It All Out There?

À Bientôt,