I apologize for my accidental 6 month blogging break. I recently moved to Los Angeles and I’ve spent a lot of time settling in to my new career. Here is a short list of what I have been up to since I last posted.

1. After two years of work, we finally finished Justice Never Reloads – A Cop Drama Movie last weekend and I personally dropped it off at the Sundance offices on Monday. I will let you know as it is accepted in to film festivals, and I look forward to your opinion

2. I started working at Hallock Healey Entertainment as an Executive Assistant. They are primarily a reality / hidden camera production company famous for making the hit series Scare Tactics. The job is going well, my bosses are very nice, and they even let me write a bit for the upcoming fourth season of the show! If you look really close, you can see my name in the end credits for the upcoming season of Scare, as well as their new Animal Planet series Freak Encounters.

3. I was accepted into an ABC / Disney Native American Impact television writing workshop last month. It was an awesome experience, I met several current television writers and executive producers, and it was very heartwarming to see that some Native Americans have found success in television.

4. I was asked to host an online travel series. The show is called The Dart. We just launched it last weekend, and it was a lot of fun to make the 6 episode series. Spoiler alert, I got to take a ride in the Goodyear Blimp and have a Lightsaber fight with musician Andrew WK while making the show.

5. I began taking improv classes at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre in Los Angeles. While I am only at the 101 level at the moment, it is very neat and I hope to go as far in the program as I can.

6. Creosity, a “digital signage” company in Bellingham, WA hired me to do voice work for some of their new products.

7. I spent over $3000.00 repairing my 1986 Honda Accord. (sigh)

I think that about covers it. Thanks for your interest in my day to day life, and I hope to blog a little more frequently in the near future. I still need to finish documenting my European backpacking trip after all!

Joey

While the script is coming along well, it is taking a little longer to write then I originally envisioned. I may have to hold off on the travel blog for another two weeks or so.

With that, comes a little good news

1. I successfully moved to Los Angeles, California from Washington State. It’s terrifying, but I am meeting a lot of interesting people. I am really optimistic about the job search as well.

2. Justice Never Reloads is nearing completion. We are preparing for our first test screening at the Wazzu Independent Film Festival in Pullman, WA on April 17th and promotion should start later this week. Myself and a group of about 40 people worked for the better part of a year and a half on this film, so it’ll be good to finally see the fruits of our labor.

3. I had a free night a few days ago and updated my myspace for the first time in about four years. It was fun, and pretty nostalgic. If you still have an account, I’d love a friend request!

4. It’s impossible to not smile after watching this music video.

Thanks again for your patience

X Joey

I was recently asked to write a feature length film script for a production company on the east coast. No official deal is in writing so I don’t want to go into specifics, but it should be a fun project to work on. Whenever I write a script, I sequester myself until it’s finished so my blog updates will be sporadic at best between now and March 22nd.
Also, I am in the process of moving from Washington State to Los Angeles, so this should be a busy two and a half weeks for me. I’m pretty nervous about the move, so any tips would be appreciated!

Have a good day, and I look forward to blogging for you again

Joey

P.S. If you are in need of a travel blog fix, the entirety of my experiences in France and Spain are currently posted in the previous entries section.

P.P.S. As details become more concrete about the film, you can expect a news post about it on my web site!

Spain – Bits and Bobs

San Sebastian, Spain

As I explored the grounds around the giant Jesus statue / fortress overlooking San Sebastian, I noticed a few things of note.

Swastikas were carved or drawn all over certain sections of the monument. Wandering around the town, it wasn’t completely out of place to see the symbol of the German Nazi party scrawled on the occasional street sign or side of a building either.

I asked Elizabeth about this, and she explained to me that General Franco, the fascist ruler of Spain from 1939 to 1975 had a non-belligerent agreement with the Axis powers during World War II. That meant that Spain officially sided with the Axis powers and offered supplies and workers to aid in the war effort, but because of the Spanish Civil War draining much of the countries resources, they could not join the conflict as a military power.

Because of this, much of Spain has a more favorable view of Nazism than the rest of the world. Of course, there were groups within Spain who fought on the side of the Allies during the war, and it’s a very complicated issue I am sure. Long story short, the Swastika elicits a less harsh response in Spain then say, the rest of Europe and The Americas and it’s become kind of a pop culture thing to some people.

The park itself was very neat. It featured a war cemetery and some amazing views.

I heard from a local that San Sebastian as a whole was devastated in some type of military bombardment within the past 200 years and most of the town is newly built, but considering the oldest sections of my home town in western Washington State are about a hundred years old, the place still looked ancient to me.

Basque Country
San Sebastian sits in an area known as “Basque Country” in northern Spain and southern France. Basque is an autonomous culture with it’s own language, norms, and values and the Basque people are intensely proud of their heritage. Many of the Basque people would like to secede from Spanish / French rule to the point that terrorist group, the ETA formed in the mid 1900s to expedite the process. The way it was explained to me it is kind of similar to The Troubles that took place between Ireland and Northern Ireland.

Bilboa and Guernica

Two areas I would have loved to visit, but I didn’t have the chance.

Bilbao is the location of the Guggenheim Museum. When the Guggenheim was built by architect Frank Gehry it was instantly described as “The most important Structure of it’s time” so I figured it’d be worth a visit.

Guernica is a small town located between San Sebastian and Bilbao. The story goes that it was used as a “target” for practice bombing runs by Germany, Italy, and parts of Spain during the Spanish Civil War. The various generals and commanders in charge of these runs demanded that the bombers “knock over the tree in the center of town.”
After years of effort, and dozens of bombing runs the town was entirely destroyed, but the tree was never hit. Pablo Picasso was so impressed by this story that he immediately traveled to Guernica to paint. His result was one of the most famous paintings of the past hundred years. My goal was to draw a good stick figure drawing of the tree, but it wasn’t meant to be.

Music on the train platform

As I waited on the train platform in San Sebastian, I listened to Blue Scholars Bayani album on my American cell phone. This album is the only piece of music on my cell, and it has done a great job of framing my moments of travel. If I remember correctly, it got a lot of play in my Pension Marmo hostel as well.

Barcelona, Spain

Extra picture in front of the Columbus Monument.

The window in my Pension Marmo hostel room.

I can’t get over how lucky I was to experience the hardships I faced in Barcelona. I feel like I became a more spiritual, and appreciative person out of the situation and I can’t thank God enough for protecting me. I covered my many struggles in the Day 8 – Part 2, Day 9 – Part 1, and Day 9 – Part 2 entries and it was definitely a reaffirmation for me on the power of faith.

La Sagrada Familia

Taken in the basement of La Sagrada Familia in front of a model of the cathedral.

La Sagrada Familia was a beautiful building. For an extra price, you can ascend an elevator to the cathedral’s top floor, but I was trying to save money, so I didn’t worry about it. Also, there is an interesting school turned museum of architecture on the grounds.

Parc de la Ciutadella

As I wandered through the park, I found a tent giving away large yellow “smiley face” balloons to little kids. I politely asked one of the attendants for a balloon, and for my efforts I had a travel buddy. It was kind of like a Castaway “Wilson” scenario, but way less intense. The balloon popped about 30 minutes after I got it, so I didn’t have the time to name it, or develop too strong of an emotional attachment.

The Train from Barcelona to Milan, Italy

The experiences on a night train ride are difficult to predict. Sometimes I was left to my own devices in a large coach with temperature control and enough room for a good night’s rest, other times I was lucky to have a seat. You can save a lot of money by sleeping on night train rides between destinations, but you never know what the accommodations are going to be until the train leaves the station.

I was seated next to a musician and fellow backpacker named Benjamin from Perth, Australia for my ride from Barcelona to Milan. He was in his early twenties, and we talked for a few hours about music, education, and the overly patriotic nature of American passports. He gave me a few tips about travel, and a copy of his latest EP before we both dozed off. Travelers relate to other travelers very easily, and these types of pleasant one off exchanges are very welcome occurrences.

Things I am currently interested in

Death and a Cure
The above mentioned Benjamin’s band. Very “thick” musicianship for a solo act, and I would suggest it to anyone interested in singer / songwriters.

Tamara Shea
Maybe I’ve just been on a singer / songwriter kick lately, but Everett, Washington’s Tamara Shea is seeing regular rotation on my computer. I’m a sucker for optimistic, cute love songs, and “Games” definitely fills that void.

Roger Ebert – The Essential Man
An interesting article on film critic Roger Ebert. He lost his jaw, and the ability to speak to cancer and the article details a lot of his struggles and the lessons he has learned going through it. An uplifting read if there ever was one.

Final Draft
Final Draft is THE script writing software for film and television. I will be spending my next few weeks working on a not yet announced project, and I expected to be chained to this program for a lot of that time.

Gang Starr
With rapper Guru’s recent heart attack, I’ve found myself explaining him and the significance of his and DJ Premier’s group to a generation of kids who don’t know what “Steez” really means. Get well soon Guru.
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Check the previous entries section for a complete look at my backpacking adventure.

I left La Sagrada Familia with a few hours to go before my train departed for Italy. The Placa De Les Glories Catalans, a large roundabout was featured heavily on my map and it was within 2km of me so I figured it’d be a good site seeing opportunity.

Unfortunately, the large roundabout was little more than a freeway overpass but it put me really close to the building in the above picture

Torre Agbar is a skyscraper of similar shape and design to The Gherkin in London. Basically, both of them are office buildings that look kind of like a pickle.

I walked Avinguda Meridiana back toward the train station. Along the way a few locals stopped and asked me for directions, but my limited understanding of Spanish relegated me to a lot of pointing at my map, then pointing toward where I thought they wanted to go.

I eventually reached Parc de la Ciutadella, an absolutely gorgeous city park in the center of Barcelona.

The outskirts of the park.

A neat statue inside the park.

Truly, this place is Shangri-La!

I said a prayer before throwing a few Euro cents into the water.

Tired from a full day of walking, I sat on a park bench and ate the remainder of the food in my backpack. I ran out of bread before I ran out of Nutella, so I resorted to eating the Nutella straight out of the container similar to how Winnie the Pooh eats honey.

After finishing off my meal and filling my water bottle in a nearby fountain, I noticed a group of people in a gazebo practicing some type of Spanish tap dance.

I wanted to join in on the dance battle, but my tap shoes were on the other side of the planet so I politely passed at the opportunity.

The trouble with travel, is that it is common to feel a disconnect with the places you visit. Eventually, the languages you don’t understand run together, and you look at ruins and landmarks as “just another set of old buildings.” While I had this feeling on occasion, at least a few times in each town I visited I felt some type of “cultural connection” with my surroundings.

As I walked through this beautiful park, observing hundreds of people napping in the grass with the sound of the tap group echoing behind me, I finally started to feel a basic understanding of Spanish culture. Moments like that make the travel experience worth it.

The park was filled with other sites and statues, unfortunately, my camera battery was dieing so I took a limited number of pictures.

Statue located outside of the Museum of Zoology.

As I left the park, I noticed this neat sculpture positioned on the sidewalk. I am not sure what it represents, but the image of a punch of pieces of furniture submerged in water was cool to look at regardless.

After asking a local police officer for directions to the Barcelona Franca train station, and wandering for about 20 minutes, I arrived with my ticket about an hour before the train left.

With my little bit of extra time, I wandered back outside the train station along the coast where a small market was set up.

I contemplated buying a Diadema (like a mesh headband), but hunger and patriotism got the better of me so I purchased a hot dog instead.

As I sat on the pier observing the market I noticed a few of the counterfeit hand bag sellers from La Rambla setting up their wares in front of the market. Selling counterfeit bags is illegal in Barcelona. Each of the sellers had ropes tied to each of their bags and if a police officer approached the group, everyone would reel in their collection og bags, wrap them in a blanket, and scatter to avoid arrest.

With my stomach full, I walked back to the train station and charged my camera battery.

When my train arrived, I double checked my gear and approached the platform.

Train Platform

One last shot of Barcelona.

This is my “excited to leave Barcelona” face.

Sometimes the most comforting thing when traveling is the knowledge that you didn’t miss your train. Next stop, Italy!

————

Check the previous entries section for a complete look at my backpacking adventure.

La Sagrada Familia is one of Spain’s largest tourist attractions. The cathedral, designed by Catalan architect Antoni Gaudi began construction in 1882 and he worked on it until his death in 1926. The cathedral is still very much being built with an expected completion date of around 2025.

I saw a family take a photo similar to the above with their daughter in front of the cathedral and it looked like a fun opportunity, so I asked them to take the same picture with me in it. They smiled, and agreed pretty readily.

Being a tourist attraction, La Sagrada Familia has an expensive entry price of about 20 Euro. I was still broke from the previous day’s surprise train fees, but this was a once in a life time opportunity so I tried to track down a safe ATM machine. My recent luck gave me a “softer” opinion of Barcelona over all, but it was still a crime center, and withdrawing money from an ATM is a very vulnerable spot to be in.

Eventually, I found an enclosed ATM vestibule and withdrew enough money to explore the cathedral.

Security guard. I don’t entirely remember why I took this picture.

The cathedral design was heavily inspired by nature, and it looks kind of like a forest covered in cement.

The columns like tree roots

The image of Jesus has a very “blocky” look.

The windows look like honeycombs.

The interior is massive, and it needs to be seen to be believed.

As I said before, the building is still very much under construction.

A board describing the current construction plans.

Another shot of the beautiful ceiling.

As awe inspiring as the interior is, the exterior is incredible.

*The main pillars of the cathedral are resting on turtle statues. When I tried to feed the statue it bit me.

A statue I found behind the cathedral.

The basement of La Sagrada Familia acted as kind of a museum to the cathedral’s construction.

It had several models and paintings showcasing the cathedral. I believe the above model was the “final product” of what the interior columns would look like.

With my need for the close up viewing of Art Nouveau architecture fulfilled, and still a few hours left before my train for Italy left, I wandered the streets toward my next adventure.

* True story, one of my earliest memories was at about 4-years old when I visited a petting zoo with my family. I noticed a goat standing in the corner still enough that I thought it was a statue. Being a 4-year old at the time I figured it was a great idea to reach my hand in the goat’s mouth. Long story short, it bit my hand, I cried, and I got a good story to tell out of the deal.

————
Check the previous entries section for a complete look at my backpacking adventure

I woke up several times over the course of the night, eventually waking up for good at around 6am but my bed was extremely comfortable, so I think I just laid in bed admiring the near miracle of the previous days events for close to an hour.

Eventually, I got up and took a shower. The Pension Marmo had a shared bathroom, but because of the hostel’s minimal advertising, small amount of clients, and the general “cleanness” of the place I was able to bathe without the extreme paranoia and fear of infection I faced in the Center Rambles hostel the day before.

After the shower I still had a few hours before check out, so I did what I could to clean out my backpack.

While traveling, it’s normal to accumulate garbage on your person. I hate to litter, so my bag and coat pockets were filled with maps, brochures, wrappers, and other bits of garbage from the past 10 days. While nostalgia dictated that I keep everything I had picked up on my trip, I only had a small backpack and another 20 days of travel ahead of me, so I did what I could to keep a few things from each area and trash everything else.

With my load lightened by a few pounds, I went through my travel guide and tried to map out a rough sketch of the next few days. I wanted to be in Rome by October 6th, but I had about 19 hours worth of travel between myself and The Eternal City so I decided to skip Firenze and Pisa altogether for the purposes of making it to my destination a day early.

After eating my previous night’s leftovers of Nutella, bread, water, and a banana I checked out of the hostel around 10am. My train for Milan didn’t leave for another 9 hours so I had some time to see the sites.

From the looks of my map, everything I wanted to see in Barcelona was conveniently located along an easy to plot route north of the hostel.

After wandering through several back alleys I arrived at Museu Picasso, a museum showcasing one of the most extensive collections of Pablo Picasso’s paintings. He used to live in Barcelona. Several hostels, and locations within the city are able to get away with charging exorbitant rates because “Picasso stayed there once.”

Unfortunately, there was a long line to get into the museum, the tickets to enter were out of my price range, and I wasn’t all that interested in Picasso at the moment, so I continued on my way.

As I wandered north to The Arc de Triomf (The Spanish equivalent of the Paris Arc de Triomphe) I passed a statue of Rafael Casanova.

The statue features a man wielding a blade, slaying a demon of some kind while a ferret sits on his shoulder. Epic statues are pretty much par for the course in Europe, but I was surprised to see a statue of the romantic Casanova looking so intensely bad-ass.
I found out today that they are actually two different guys, and the Casanova featured in the statue I was looking at was a colonel who is considered to be one of the greatest Catalan Patriots, while Giacomo Casanova was just a poet and a womanizer. It’s a rad statue regardless.

After a half hour of exhaustion induced walking I found the Arc. The following pictures have one vital difference, you can decide your favorite.

With Joey, taken by a nice Spanish couple

or without Joey, taken by me!

The Arc is a running theme in many European landmarks. I believe most of them were built by the same guy, or they were at least all built around the same time but that is based on a tour of the Arc de Triomphe a few months ago so my memory is a little fuzzy. Regardless, it was neat to see the different cultural takes on the same theme.

My next goal was to visit La Sagrada Familia a truly beautiful cathedral that is Barcelona’s centerpiece. While walking toward it I passed a statue on a roundabout whose significance escapes me.

Covered in sweat, and low on water I stopped off at the Plaza Tetuan, a small park with a fountain in the center.

Fitting in with the theme of “Epic Spanish Statues” the figure in the center of the fountain has a flowing cape, with peasants and monsters pleading at his feet. Much like the metallic peasants featured in this work of art, I approached the foot of the statue to fill up my water bottle.

Next stop, La Sagrada Familia!

————
Check the previous entries section for a complete look at my backpacking adventure

I sat in the the lobby of the Barcelona Franca rail way station for close to 45 minutes. Updating my journal on the trip so far was the only thing I could think of to take my mind off of my current predicament. Once that was over with, I went through an accelerated version of the five stages of grief.

It’s been a few months, but I remember the emotions tied to this moment of my life very clearly. I was nearly out of money in a train station in Barcelona with no place to stay, little food, and I had about 30 hours before I could leave the city thanks to some confusion with the train times. A laundry list of problems and solutions were shooting through my head, and I pondered everything for more than a few minutes.

Eventually, I realized that the only way I could truly hurt myself in the situation, was to stand still. I had two choices, sit and pout about my bad luck, or try to actively find a solution to my problem, so I stood up and walked.

I wasn’t sure exactly where I was heading, but I figured my number one and two priorities at the moment were to cancel my Firenze hostel booking, and find a place to stay in Barcelona for the night. Everything else was an afterthought.

I happened across an internet cafe while wandering through some back alleys near the train station. I had enough pocket change strewn throughout my backpack and pockets to pay for an hour, so I got to work.

Canceling my Firenze hostel was a painless process, and a received a confirmation e-mail and a complete refund within minutes of logging in to the computer. Unfortunately, booking a hostel for the night wasn’t so easy.

After looking through the main hosteling web sites and cold calling all of the Barcelona hostels in my travel guide, I found that every room that I could afford was booked for the night. I’d heard good things about couchsurfing.org, a web site designed to help travelers find free housing, but with my recently created account, no feedback, and the extremely short notice of my visit I couldn’t find anyone willing to house me for the night.

With my hour up, I left the internet cafe without a place to stay. I relegated the dream of sleeping indoors as a pipe dream, and decided to spend a few of my last Euro on food. Homeless or not, at least I wouldn’t go hungry.

In a small bit of good news I found a corner market that sold cheap produce so I was able to buy a loaf of bread, some apples, some Nutella, and a few bananas for only 3 or 4 Euro. After stocking my backpack with the kings bounty, I checked my map for any buildings of note. The Santa Maria del Mar Cathedral was within a few blocks of my current location, so I headed in that direction.

I was looking to clear my head, and take my mind off of the previously mentioned problems so I entered the cathedral.

The cathedral was massive and awe inspiring, especially considering the building was built almost a millennium ago.

A wedding was in progress so I sat at a pew near the back and quietly watched the ceremony. The vows were in Spanish, but it was still touching to see. I knelt on my knees on the far edge of the pew near the isle and said a prayer asking God to protect me, and help me find safety for the remainder of my time in Barcelona.

I consider myself to be a religious person, and I regularly stopped in cathedrals and chapels to say a prayer and light a candle over the course of the journey. Most of my prayers were aimed toward my friends, family, and the health of the world in general. I hate to inconvenience the omnipotent super being who created the universe, so I try not to mention myself when speaking to him.

Drastic times call for drastic measures, so I emotionally unloaded, quietly explaining my fears to the big guy.

Still kneeling on the ground with a tear welling up in my eye I turned around to find a 10 Euro note on the ground behind me. I picked it up, examined it, and made sure it didn’t fall out of my pocket. My money was where I left it, so I stood up and tried to find the owner.

No one was directly behind me, and I didn’t see anyone visibly looking for dropped money so I figured the honest thing to do would be to donate it to the cathedral.

As I approached the collection box, a light bulb went off in my head. My inner voice screamed “this money can be used to help you out of your current problem!”

I paused with the note half in the box, contemplated the dishonesty of spending found money. After about 30 seconds I put the bill in my pocket.

A sign I found near the collection box.

The total of 20 Euro I now had in my possession was enough to pay for a cheap room, but with my inability to find a single affordable free bed in Barcelona, I wandered the streets in deep thought.

After only about 2 blocks of walking I found Pension Marmo located above a bar. I pressed the doorbell hoping for an answer.

The person running the desk of the hostel spoke little English, so I did my best to explain my current predicament. After trying to pantomime “do you have a free room for the night?” and putting the last bit of money I had on her desk she paused, nodded, took the 20 Euro, and handed me a key.

The building was old, and the bed and fixtures looked like they hadn’t been replaced in a while, but it was clean, safe, and there wasn’t a bed bug in sight, so I literally jumped for joy after the desk worker left me alone in my room.

After getting situated, I spread my feast out on the bedside table.

While it was still early in the day (about 5pm), I decided I had experienced enough excitement to keep me satiated and exhausted so I ate a meal of bread, Nutella, water, and a banana, wrote in my journal, and called it an early night.

Thank God for faith.

————
Check the previous entries section for a complete look at my backpacking adventure

I woke up multiple times over the course of the night due partly to fear and partly to the general ruckus heard in a big city hostel on a Friday night, but I was alive and my stuff was intact when the morning rolled around. Unfortunately, the bed bugs I’d found infesting my bunk the night before weren’t a dream, and I was covered in bug bites.

The Center Rambles offers an early morning breakfast but the meal cut off, and my hostel check out time of around 11am was fast approaching, so I rushed to the shower. Due to the shady nature of the hostel, I did what I could to watch my stuff while I bathed.

It was kind of like the old game “Lava” a lot of people played when they were kids where you pretend the floor is lava, but with the imaginary image of molten rock replaced by the actual filth of this hostel’s bathroom floor. To avoid having myself or any of my possessions touch the ground while simultaneously keeping everything in eyesight so I knew it wouldn’t be stolen I found myself bathing in a pair of cotton slippers I’d purchased in the UK, while constantly looking over at my backpack, clothes, and shoes balanced precariously on the hook outside the shower.

Luckily, I was able to bathe without anything getting too contaminated. As I brushed my teeth, a few guys from Australia in their late teens entered the bathroom. We talked about our mutual impression of Barcelona and the hostel and they agreed that this was one of the sketchiest places they’d ever seen.

I gathered my things and went to the lobby for my breakfast of Nutella, jam, bread, and juice, the standard meal for most larger hostels. After eating my meal, and doing some online research as to the location of my room in Firenze I headed out the door. It was about 11am, and I had some exploration time before my train left for Italy so I took a short walk around the block.

Perusing through a local market, I found a mysterious beverage called “Coconut Drink.”

After drinking the sweet concoction, I walked back to the Center Rambles to figure out an itinerary for the day.

An art exhibit celebrating Authenticite was set up across from the hostel on hospital street. With few exact plans established I wandered in to the FREE exhibit.

The exhibit was created by a person named Sabal Gavaldon. I am not sure of the exacts because a lot of the writing was in Spanish, but I am lead to believe it had something to do with art.

There were a few sculptures playing interviews about the movement, and a few neat interactive exhibits featuring shredded vinyl records skipping on repeat on turntables but the full spectrum of the event was lost on me.

I wandered toward La Rambla hoping that it would be a kinder place then I bared witness to the night before, and the sunlight did a lot to soften the impression. La Rambla stretches from the center of Barcelona all the way to the beach. It is kind of like a carnival with impressive street performers, various people in costume, booths selling food and trinkets, and the previously mentioned guys selling counterfeit purses. My mother always wanted to visit Spain, but because of a general lack of funds she has yet to make the trip, so I bought a silver bracelet for her while walking through the bazaar.

Eventually, I reached the beaches of Barcelona. A statue of Christopher Columbus was perched on a large pole at the end of the street.

The Columbus Monument signifies the site where Columbus returned to Spain after discovering the Americas. I felt a divided emotion when standing before the monument. Columbus’ voyage is a major moment in American history, and we even have a bank holiday in the states celebrating his arrival in 1492. Without him, the mass exodus of Europeans to the America might not have been as pronounced.

Unfortunately, my American Indian ancestors were largely slaughtered, diseased, or otherwise genocided during the above mentioned exodus, so Columbus’ “discovery” is seen as a little bit of a touchy subject by my people.

My emotion was heightened by the appearance of a Spanish man, dressed in full Native regalia posing for tourists next to the monument. Was I standing before a monument of a man who wrote the first chapters of American history, or a man who signed a death sentence for my culture?

That’s a different story for a different day, but the historical dichotomy of the location was not lost on me.

I went to Barcelona with little knowledge of the sites, and it was intended as a quick stop off location between San Sebastian and Barcelona, so I felt little regret when I walked along the coast to the Barcelona Franca. railway station.

It was a hot day, and my trusty multi-pocketed green GAP jacket bought from a UK thrift store was beginning to give me a feeling of heat stroke under the Spanish sun.

I pressed on, half delirious from exhaustion to the station, passing several booths and small shops along the way. The city was a beautiful site with the aqua blue of the water giving a nice backdrop to the brightly colored businesses.

I arrived at the station at around 2pm. According to my railway guide the last train for Milan, Italy left the station at around 7pm. All I needed to do was reserve my ticket and I’d have enough time to check out la Sagrada Familia and maybe a museum or two. I approached the ticket window with my train number written down, and a smile on my exhausted face.

This is when the bad news started.

1. For whatever reason, Spain runs on a slightly different system than most countries under the Eurail pass. Where it costs free to about 5 Euro to reserve a train ticket in most countries within the Eurail network if you have a pass, The reservation alone for my ticket from Barcelona to Milan cost upwards of 50 Euro (About 80 USD) to book a seat. I noticed a slight price bump on my ticket from San Sebastian to Barcelona, but considering I spent about 600 dollars for the Eurail, granting me unlimited travel across most of Europe, the random extra fees tacked on by the renfe got really annoying really quick.

2. When I stated my intentions to board the October 3rd night train from Barcelona to Milan shown in my rail guide, the gentleman working the counter informed me that that particular train didn’t exist. We argued as best as two people who don’t speak the same language could argue and to our efforts, we kept things going for about 5 minutes, but the conversation inevitably ended with him telling me my best bet to get to Milan was to take a night train leaving the next day at 7:30pm.
I stormed away from the counter to cool my head, and eventually found a worker who was more patient with my concerns. I had a hostel booked in Firenze on October 4th, and my goal was to be in Italy in time to make my booking. After going through every train route on the renfe with me, the train worker informed me that because it was a Saturday, train service in Spain was limited, so my best bet to was to take the Sunday night train the previous worker suggested.
I sighed, and emptied my Oyster Card Holder turned wallet of all but about 15 Euro so I could afford the reservation fee.

3. With my wallet basically emptied, my hopes of spending time in Firenze, Milan, and Pisa dashed against the rocks, and no plan as to how I would afford food and a place to sleep while in Barcelona for an extra night, I sat on a bench in the train station in a state of meditative shock.

I went backpacking in search of adventure, but university did little to prepare me for a night of potential homelessness in a crime center, surrounded by a massive language barrier in a place where I only had myself to rely on.
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Check the previous entries section for a complete look at my backpacking adventure

(I apologize for the small amount of pictures in this entry. I was a little worried my camera was going to get “jacked” which was not wasn’t an entirely paranoid fear based on the area.)

Barcelona, Spain

Barcelona is one of the most populous cities in the European Union, with over 1 million 500 thousand people living in and around the city. I chose to visit it partly at the suggestion of Baby Cow Productions producer Ted Dowd, partly because it was an easy natural stop through destination on my way to Italy, and partly because Freddie Mercury, Queen’s front man wrote a song for the city and Queen can do no wrong in my eyes.

I arrived at around 10:30pm at the Barcelona Sants railway station. A brief stop at a hotel near the station gave me an accurate map of the city. My Center-Ramblas youth hostel was a few kilometer walk from the station and a metro line ran pretty close to it, but I was in the mood to save money, so I hoofed it the whole way.

As I had read in several travel guides, Barcelona is the pickpocket capitol of the world. Besides my passport and digital camera, I had few valuables of note with me on the trip. My backpack was secured by several small padlocks so I wasn’t worried about a loss of property, but violent mugging stories aren’t uncommon, and I wanted to see my friends and family again so I kept my “Sheffield” brand pocket knife (given to me by my father prior to leaving the United Stated) in an easily accessible flap on my jacket.

It was late at night on a Friday, and something about the place screamed  out like a caution sign. As I walked the streets toward my destination, I noticed everyone walked quickly, as if they wanted to prove to any would be bandits that they weren’t a confused, and easily taken advantage of tourist. Unfortunately, I was a confused and easily taken advantage of tourist, so my head was on a swivel, and the adrenaline was pumping.

As I approached a beautiful looking square about halfway between the train station and my hostel, I had some trouble with the directions I wrote down a few days prior. I stepped inside a Quality Burger restaurant and asked the manager for help. He didn’t speak much English until I showed him the location of my hostel on the map.

“Be careful, La Rambla is very dangerous at night and you are a stranger.” were the words he spoke with a look of deep concern on his face.

La Rambla

“You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious.” – Obi-Wan Kenobi in reference to Mos Eisley Spaceport in the star wars film series.

The above quote played through my head as I walked through the highest crime part of one of the highest crime towns in Spain. My hostel was located about halfway down La Rambla, and it was a long half kilometer walk. The streets were covered in peddlers selling counterfeit handbags, prostitutes, jugglers, and other street performers. I walked as quickly as I could, avoiding groups of people and keeping a heightened view of my surroundings and my person.

After a walk that felt like a marathon, I reached the hostel on hospital street, a dark alley just off the main strip. The Center Rambles has a set of locked sliding glass doors covering the entrance, and the people running the desk only unlock the door for patrons as a means to keep seedy characters out. I walked inside the hostel with a sigh of relief. After composing myself for a moment, I looked down at my jacket.

Crap.

Every zipper on my jacket was undone.

I knew the exact moment that it happened. The pickpockets move quickly, and they look for any distraction in the faces of their targets. If you stop to watch a flaming torch juggler, you probably just had your purse stolen. In my case, an oncoming container truck forced me to step further onto the sidewalk into a group of people. I thought that they were tourists, but in the few moments I was surrounded by them, they must have tried to grab anything they could.

Luckily, my pockets were only unzipped, and nobody had a chance to take anything of value, but it was a close call.

The young, but haggard looking desk workers gave me the key to my room. While they were putting me into the system I took a moment to use the lobby computers. Signs on the computers showed the high percentage of online identity theft in Barcelona, and the computers were riddled with viruses. I hesitated briefly before checking my facebook.

With my key in hand I climbed the large spiral staircase to my top floor room.

I signed up for a bed in an 8-person dorm room to save money, and the sketchy nature of the clientele I had noticed up to that point made me wish I’d splurged for a single room. At least I was a short walk from my bed.

Opening the door at the end of the hallway. The room was dimly lit, and a shirtless man with bloodshot eyes and a face covered in scars greeted me with an annoyed look. He was one of my room mates for the night, and the thought did little to ease my tension. I tried conversing with him in Spanish, but he simply shook his head, and pointed at one of the empty beds.

I examined the sheets before climbing in, and they were covered in bed bugs, small insects similar to fleas that become the bane of your existence in dirty hostels.

The entire area had a bad aura about it, but I needed a night’s sleep, so I climbed into bed, fully clothed, using my backpack and shoes as a pillow to further reduce the risk of theft. I drifted to sleep with a prayer to the heavens pleading that I’d wake with myself, and my possessions intact.

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While my first night in Barcelona was a miserable experience, there was one slight positive. The above bar on hospital street was playing Paul’s Boutique-era Beastie Boys as I walked past it to my hostel.