CADAQUES

So my parents are way smarter than me, and told me to go on a group trip to Cadaques, despite my distaste for the organizational skills of college students. Okay, okay, okay—I confess, I also am a control freak (to an extreme degree). Anywho, it was awesome.

Cadaques is a little place tucked into the mountain on the northern coast of Spain in Catalunya, called La Costa Brava. It is north of Barcelona and about an hour and forty-five minute train ride, then forty-five minute motion sickness testing bus ride through the mountains. I left after class Friday and got there around seven I think, after a very sweaty transit. Sweaty. Sweaty, because I ran to the Passeig de Gracia metro stop where you get the Renfe train to Figueres.
View Larger Map Look at the map in case you were doubting the extreme running I did. The train itself is barely, if at all air-conditioned. Not good with all those Europeans in hot weather. Then I just barely made the bus from Figueres to Cadaques. The information deskman seemed helpful, except NOT. I’ll spare you the details of that interaction, but needless to say, I also ran to the bus. The bus ride was gorgeous, but also gut wrenching. In case you were wondering driving in a BIG bus on narrow, climbing mountain roads is scary. I also can’t say much for the sanitary condition of the bus. I also discovered the presence of highway prostitutes; these Europeans are so innovative!
The girl in our group who was on the bus with me and I also had some issues locating the apartment in Cadaques, granted it is small, but you still need more direction than ‘follow the signs to the centre of town’. My anxieties of travelling with kids my own age was realized, but we did manage to get there after a bit of a hike from the road to the apartment.



The apartment was beautiful, mostly because of the view, but for what we spent the accommodation were great. In the end there were enough sleeping areas between the eleven of us (utilizing couches and armchairs). That first night we made a delish dinner: steak tips, potatoes, salad, and garlic bread. YUM. We get really excited about cooked food since we are limited to our temperamental hotplates. We had a nice, noisy dance party before we hit the town. Apparently Cadaques has some things in common with Province town—small and large gay population. The problem was that it was so apparent which bars were gay bars, so we got a bit miffed when a bar owner told us “Mujeres no pueden quedar aqui sin comprando bebidas”…essentially girls had to buy drinks, a lot of them. No thanks. We had more fun in the apartment anyway…more space, and all the music we wanted.
The next morning I was the egg lady; my secret fried-egg cooking talents were discovered. We were at the beach by 12, and it was beautiful. The town was incredibly quaint, reminiscent of the cape or Martha’s Vineyard, but a European version. The water was incredibly clear and calm, perfect since it was SO hot out. We applied sun block liberally in between swimming expeditions to the boys and working on the sandcastle fortress. We probably should have worn American flag shirts that day. I’m okay with it.
Dinner was chicken scampi and yummy rice. All thanks to Sydney, who is an awesome cook. That night we stayed in the apartment then hung out at the house of some people (three couples around 50) we had met. The lived right above the path behind our place, and had a pool! They interrogated us about colleges in the US since they had some 17 year olds. It was an amazing night and we didn’t get to bed until 6 a.m. Now, that time isn’t that unusual in Barcelona, but I have to say I didn’t think I could be that entertained for that long with 50 year old (aside from my mom and dad of course!)
I was egg-lady again on Sunday and we relaxed a bit before cleaning up the apartment. We walked around town a bit after we gave back the key. It is such a small, small place—interesting the people live there, permanently. We were back in Barca by 5:30, after another sweaty train ride, and I have been doing homework ever since.
My first exam is Thursday, my biggest one. I don’t think I have enough room in my brain for all the stuff I need to remember. Silly art history. But, the good news is that my hardest one will be over first. My next two are the 25th: one is an exam, another a paper. The paper is just 5 pages! I can’t believe that. A five-page final. I don’t think I’ll ever higher someone from Europe if I’m in a position to, but it is good news for me!

Okay, back to work, I have a meeting with the Art History TA in 20 minutes. Blech. Oh, btw……SEE YOU IN 13 DAYS!!!

xxxxxx