The Inca Trail and Machu Picchu

I'm back in the US now and I have a lot of blogging to catch up on!  Let me cut straight to the chase and present to you the amazing sights to be seen on the Inca Trail.

The Inca Trail was used by the Incan civilization from the 14th to the 16th centuries to communicate between Cusco, the Incan capital, and Machu Picchu, what is believed to have been a sacred religious site.  We weren't going to traverse the entire 120km (75 mile) distance, but instead were going to pick up the trail starting at km 82 and hike over the mountains for 4 days to our destination.

On Sunday morning the 26th of December, my group of 3 stumbled out of our hostel on almost no sleep after an evening filled with loud Christmas fireworks to catch a 6:30 bus from Cusco, Peru.  A couple hours on a bus put us in Ollantaytambo, the last major town before the trail head, where we picked up breakfast and snacks to sustain ourselves between meals on our hike.  Another couple hours ride on a narrow dirt road put us at the km 82 starting checkpoint.  We did introductions with our group of 24 hikers, 3 guides, and numerous porters, shifted weight around in our packs, and used the last decent restroom to be found for the next 4 days, then we were off on the Camino Inka, the hike of a lifetime!

After passing through the initial checkpoint (passport required), we hiked on the flat terrain along the raging Urubamba River between small villages dotted along the trail, observing cacti and local flowers alleged to have hallucinogenic properties.  Given that we were already at 9000 feet, we needed a good warmup day to get acclimated to the altitude, and no one was complaining about the simplicity of the hike -- there were mountains to climb later.  We stopped for lunch in a scenic mountain valley, then began a gradual ascent up to our campsite in the small village of Wayllabamba (9800 feet).  Along the way we observed the impressive Inca city of Llactapata and some terrific mountain views.

Day 2 started with a bitterly early 5 AM wakeup call from a rooster.  Never had woken up like that before!  In the morning drizzle, we rushed for the dry safety of our dining tent, where we pounded down a breakfast of bread with jam and butter, crepes, oatmeal, and tea. We would need all the carbs we could pound down in preparation for unquestionably the toughest part of the trail, an abrupt and steep ascent climbing 4000 feet in 4 hours!  A couple stopping points along the trail gave us a little bit of rest, but not much.  The climb was as grueling and relentless -- nothing but steps, steps, and more steps.  Even without the high elevation this would have been painful, but throw in the lack of oxygen in the air and it was downright tortuous.  Somehow our whole group made it to the top of the mountain pass, 4215 meters (13829 feet) above sea level!

Chased off the peak by a quickly approaching rainstorm, we trekked down the treacherous descent to our campsite in the Pacaymayo valley (11800 feet), next to a steep waterfall and what would have been an amazing view of the mountains were it not for the persistent fog.  Guess that's what you get for hiking the Inca Trail during rainy season.  After 6 hours of hiking I could barely move, and was hardly filled up by another meal of quinoa soup, potatoes, and a small piece of chicken.  From 1PM onward we rested -- I discussed American politics with Dutch hiker Joop and took a nap in my tent.  In the evening the clouds finally broke and after dinner we were treated to one of the brightest starry nights I have ever seen.

Having expended all of my energy on the Day 2 climb, my body could not get going for Day 3.  After a climb again to 13000 feet, my mind was drifting and all the candies I had packed were not saving me.  I turned to the coca leaf, legal in raw form in Peru and chewed by all the porters and guides.  Bitter-tasting but providing a mild stimulative effect, the leaves gave me the pick-me-up I needed for the incredible Incan ruins and beautiful views we would see during the day.

After the morning climb the trail thankfully was almost all downhill from there.  We stopped at the well-preserved Sayacmarca where our guide Valerio told us the story of the three sacred Incan animals, the snake, the puma, and the condor.  Again views were obliterated by fog, but we were descending into the rain forest, so all was lush and green as far as the eye could see.  After lunch we reached Phuyupatamarca, which translates to "town over the clouds", and almost caught our first glimpse of Machu Picchu mountain.  Another 90 minute hike down a long series of stone steps and we reached the most fantastic views from the agricultural terraces of Intipata.  Wow.  The 9 hour hike felt totally worth it...my camera could not get a bad picture of the valley below.  We set up camp in the valley below, next to the impressive archaeological site Wiñaywayna.  If the hike had ended at day 3, it would have been totally worth it.

But no, we had come to see Machu Picchu, and on day 4 we would get our view of the lost Incan city.  Or would we?  Awakened extra early at 3:30 AM in the middle of a pouring rainstorm, our porters hastily cooked breakfast, took down our tents, and dashed down the mountain to catch a 5AM train back to civilization.  I was all of a sudden grateful for the $1 poncho I had purchased back in Ollantaytambo -- it was going to get used today.

At 5:30 we set out for the slow hike to Intipunku, the Sun Gate, where on a clear day one gets his first glimpse of Machu Picchu.  But in the rainy season, not so fast.  We couldn't see anything.  Even after another 40 minutes of hiking down, the pouring rain continued and we could barely see anything.  Even walking through the ruins of Machu Picchu we were covered in fog and a damp drizzle.  Clearly disappointed, Anoop Michael and I retreated to the dry sanctuary of the touristy Machu Picchu lodge, where we feasted on restaurant food for the first time in days and waited hopefully for the clouds to clear.

Did our patience ever pay off!  By early afternoon the skies had cleared, and glorious sunshine had arrived at Machu Picchu!  We couldn't believe our eyes, couldn't even believe that we were visiting on the same day.  The afternoon views were absolutely breathtaking.  One could have stayed up there for a week and not been bored by the sights.  It's no wonder the Incans placed Machu Picchu where they did -- the ruins are in the middle of the most amazing lush mountain valley.  Simply incredible.

Again, the journey to Machu Picchu was incredible in itself, but that final day provided the perfect cap to our hike.  Do yourself a favor and visit.

Lima's Culinary Delights

Hello from the Southern Hemisphere!  I am writing you from Lima, Peru, where I have spent the past four days doing little more than walking and eating.  One does eat a lot in four days, so therefore I have plenty to write about!

My trip started with my earliest flight ever -- 5:28 AM Monday morning from Washington Dulles, catching a Copa Airlines flight to Panama City.  I had some fears of traveling through a decrepit Central American airport but everything turned out easy-peasy.  Aeropuerto Internacional de Tocumen in Ciudad de Panama isn't a bad facility at all and has some exquisite duty-free shopping at Lacoste and the like if you have time to burn on a layover.  Copa Airlines is the Latin American little brother to Continental and was a smooth ride, though if you don't like being awakened by a call for desayuno you may not be perfectly thrilled.

Lima is only about 3500 miles south of Washington DC and is on the same time zone, so with such an early departure I was able to arrive in Lima at around 3PM, giving me some time to enjoy the end of the day in the city.  I have been staying at a great hostel in the Miraflores part of town, safer than most of Lima and probably the best place to park yourself if you're a tourist here.  My buddy Michael had already arrived ahead of me and met me at the hostel.

We did some walking around the area, through the artisan market at Parque Kennedy and the tourist trap restaurants on the Calle de las Pizzas down to the Oceano Pacífico.  Strangely, I had flown more-or-less due south and gone from one ocean coast to another.  We walked to the Larco Mar, an American-looking outdoor mall complete with a Starbucks and a TGI Fridays.  Definitely gringo territory.

After enjoying a Pilsen beer along the waterfront, we walked to the elegant Miraflores Park Hotel, quite possibly the fanciest hotel in Lima, where we met up with a few Darden second-years at the Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde bar.  They had just finished the Inca Trail and had the best things to say about their trip -- cannot wait to start our hike in a few days!  At the bar I did some more Peruvian beer sampling, trying Cristal and Cusqueña, with Pilsen being the consensus favorite amongst us Darden folk.  We moved from here to Rafael, quite possibly the most expensive restaurant in Peru!  I had a delicious meal of fried squid, grilled sea bass served in a mushroom sauce, and churros served with Nutella.  I also sampled my first pisco sour, the Peruvian national cocktail, containing a grape liquor (pisco), lime juice, egg whites, and bitters.  Service not good, though, so at $53/head I will call this place overpriced!

Day two started solo.  While Michael and the first-year Darden Peruvians were being courted at a six-course lunch held by McKinsey & Co., I slept in and awoke to walk further around Miraflores.  I was a little afraid I wouldn't find lunch on my own with the five words of Spanish I know, but I managed to survive at a pleasant empanadería.  Unfortunately, empanadas are Argentinian!  I spent a couple hours getting to know the neighborhood, walking through the Plaza Centro America and past the Peruvian Papa John's ("Mejores Ingredientes.  Mejor Pizza.") to the Parque Del Amor, well-known for its rather controversial statue of embracing lovers.

I returned to the hostel for a nice siesta before being picked up by Michael and our Darden Peruvian friend Antonio, who drove us in his nicely-appointed Audi A4 to the posh suburbs of Lima, where we met our friends Javier and Ariana.  Drivers in Lima are crazy and the traffic here is the worst!  I would be in about 12 accidents per day if I were driving here.  Also, pedestrian safety is almost non-existent here -- like China you need to keep your head on a swivel here.

The five of us caught up over a couple Pilsen beers, then drove back to the city and parked ourselves at Bar Huaringas, a trendy lounge, where we met Darden Peruvians Jaime and Melissa.  Our friends were great hosts and made sure we kept the pisco sours flowing (I highly recommend the maracunya sour, same drink but mixed with the juice of passion fruit).  We also ate like kings, feasting on sampler platters with tamales, stuffed peppers, roasted pork (chicharron) and my new favorite, cow's heart (corazón).  From here we taxied to Larco Mar to a club with a cover band playing American rock-and-roll hits from the likes of AC/DC and Journey.  They LOVE American music in Peru, especially 80's music!

On Wednesday, Michael and I went to the Barranco neighborhood, the bohemian part of town also along the coast.  The neighborhood was quiet with little to see during the day, so we sat down for lunch at a cevicheria named Canta Rana.  Ceviche is a dish of fresh raw fish marinated in lime juice and peppers.  I ordered a mixto plate with octopus and fish -- delicious!  I also ate some of Michael's plate of calamari (chicharrones de calamar) and drank a couple more Pilsen beers, then pretty much needed to be rolled out of the place with a food coma.

We taxied back to Miraflores to visit the Huaca Pucllana, a pre-Incan mud-brick pyramid.  A pretty random bit of history in a bustling city, sort of like the ruins you see scattered around Rome.  From here we headed back to the hostel for a break, then back out to the San Isidro neighborhood, the richest part of the city.  We sampled the espresso at a local cafe and ate at a great little Italian place, one of those little 10-table restaurants, with served some great cannelloni.

This morning we set our alarm and met Jaime and Melissa for a trip to the city center on Lima's new city bus, the Metropolitano.  From Miraflores to the Centro in 15 minutes would have been unheard of with Lima's traffic, but this bus gets its own lanes and is a super easy ride.  The four of us visited the Plaza de Armas, home of the presidential palace, then toured the catacombs underneath the Iglesia de San Francisco.  Unfortunately no cameras allowed, but super cool, especially if you like bones!

Melissa's family is from China, so she knows all the great Chinese restaurants in Lima (called chifas).  We ate brunch at a great dim sum place near the city center, eating Cantonese-style dumplings, pork, and stuffed rice noodles.  From here we walked around the busy markets of the city center watching desperate Limeños struggling to find last-minute Christmas gifts.

This walk turned out to be much needed as we were heading to our next meal with Javier and Ariana at Panchita, a modern Peruvian restaurant headed by local celebrity chef Gaston Acurio.  Gaston was eating food and greeting visitors -- gotta love when the chef is hanging around his own restaurant.  I couldn't believe how much food our hosts ordered -- anticucho (skewers) of corazón, delicious potatoes, stuffed peppers, more roast pork, goat served with beans, a savory chicken with a yellow sauce (Michael's favorite), flan and picarones (donut-like fried treats) for dessert.  For about $25, perhaps the best food value I have ever experienced!

So, as you can see, Lima doesn't have a whole lot of traditional touristy things to do, but it has a ton of great food to eat!  You don't need a big budget at all (unless you're dining at Rafael) to eat really, really well.  From here we are onward to Cusco.  Our friend Anoop arrives late tonight and we fly up to 11,000 feet in the morning!

My Spanish is improving slowly and I hope to be communicating at the level of a 2-year-old by the time I leave Peru.  Feliz Navidad to all my American friends!

Six Days to Peru!

My whirlwind Darden semester has ended and now it's time for winter break!  To celebrate successfully completing 25% of business school, a couple of my business school buddies and I are heading to Peru for the holidays!  While there, we're going to explore with some of our local Darden Peruvian friends, eat some amazing food, and hike the Inca Trail.

Traveling to Peru with Michael Barnett (to my left) and Anoop Singh (to the left of T.J.)

The itinerary is as follows:

December 20-23: Lima, Peru.  The capital city.  Not much to do there is the way of tourism, but all of the native Darden Peruvians live in Lima, so we hope to meet up with some of them in their native land.  Also supposed to be the home of some great eats!

December 24-25: Cusco, Peru (part 1).  We hope a couple days at the high altitude (11,000 feet) will acclimatize us to the thin air we will be hiking through on the Inca Trail.

December 26-29: Inca Trail.  A four-day hike with a guide through the Peruvian Andes, ending up at the famous Machu Picchu!

December 30-31: Cusco (part 2).  A New Year's celebration in Peru's most hospitable tourist destination.

January 1-2: Puno.  On the shores of Lake Titicaca, this place is home to 41 man-made floating reed islands, still the homes to many Peruvians!

January 3: Easy day in Lima.

January 4: Return to the USA

The backpack is back!

First trip to South America for me.  Clearly a continent missing from my summer trip, I'm glad I'm finally about to make a visit!  Have pulled out the old backpack from my basement and am trying to make room for all the important essentials again.

I'll try to post pics while I'm on the ground there.  Wherever you are, have a happy holiday season!

Photos Posted and Around-the-World Trip Epilogue

The whole 11-country trip

 At long last, I sat down with the 3000 photos from my trip and went through the arduous task of captioning and figuring out what the heck I was doing in all my pictures. Good thing I had the blog to reference!

The 500 or so best pics can be found on Facebook in 4 albums:
New Zealand and Australia
Shanghai and Hong Kong
Singapore, Phuket, Malaysia, and Dubai
Istanbul, Croatia, Ibiza, and Barcelona

With four months behind me since returning to the US, I now realize just how busy I was this summer. Unless you're flying on Air Force One, 11 countries in 63 days is pretty hectic. If I were to embark on a similar trip I would take it much slower, maybe spend a couple weeks in each country before leaving.

The around-the-world trip gave me some good talking points when I met international students during my first days at Darden. Classmates from Dubai...hey, I've been to Dubai...it's hot! Classmates from China...look, here's the three words of Mandarin I picked up in Shanghai. The ESADE exchange students from Barcelona...your city can be a little sketchy.

My passport expires in about a year and it is definitely a keeper. I only have two full unblemished pages left, sort of what I imagine happens if you're an international pop star or a super spy (though those guys tend to have the suitcases of fake ones).

I'll keep this blog active as a travel blog, and just FYI I have a couple more international trips in the works, so stay tuned...

Mom’s House == Best Hostel Ever!!

Coming home to the USA made me every bit as happy as I thought it would. No more trying to decode foreign menus or communicate with shop workers using nothing but hand pointing. No more uncertainty about how I would make it from Point A to Point B or where my next meal would come from. For once, I was in a land where everything already made sense for me, and after two months of traveling I no longer had a need for serendipitous adventure.

Not much had changed at home since I left. I thankfully had missed much of a brutal East Coast summer in milder climates. Top story in the news before I left was the BP oil disaster, and sadly that was still the case two months later.

New developments were minor. My mother had acquired some sheep for her farm, so now I could wake up to see furry animals munching on grass. My brother was at French camp. One sister needed surgery on her shoulder and the other was pulling long hours at two summer jobs.

Understandably, my mail pile was massive. Thankfully my mother had opened up anything that looked important while I was away. My first two days were spent tediously making sure I had paid bills and otherwise had my life back in order.

I made my return to DC on Friday. After a doctor’s appointment confirming a clean bill of health (travel raised my cholesterol but lowered my weight), I met up with a couple former coworkers for lunch at our old favorite pizza joint. Afterwards I poked my head into my old company’s new headquarters, and hadn’t expected to spend two hours working my way around to talk. People were curious about my adventures and a surprising number had followed my blog. I received two comments from almost everyone in the office: “You look very tan” and “You look very healthy”.

In the evening I sat myself down at my favorite bar in DC, Local 16 on U Street. The unruly heat prevented me from enjoying the roofdeck, but I was able to meet up with other old friends from the air-conditioned comfort of the lower levels.

In my mind I reflected on how little I had taken in DC ask your typical tourist. Granted, over 6 years I had taken in almost everything imaginable, from the White House and Capital tours to climbing the Washington Monument to gazing at the planes at the Air & Space Museum to running through Rock Creek Park to bar-hopping in crazed Adams Morgan. But in my camera I had taken very few photos of a very photo-worthy city. Here’s one of what is today the Obama residence, from the archives.

Onwards to Charlottesville, Virginia, home of Thomas Jefferson!

Really Long Travel Day, But Home!

Monday was the last day of my two month epic journey. It felt really good to be getting back to recognizable territory, and I had no idea that two months of travel would make me miss home so much. Traveling was wonderful, particularly at the beginning of my trip when I was full of energy, but by July I had worn down, and even the best of travel destinations I was willing to trade in for a home-cooked meal and some familiar faces.

The final piece of my journey was not going to be easy. Given Barcelona's status as a non-hub airport, and given the high airfares to Europe this summer, I needed to sacrifice convenience to get a flight within my budget. Tracking gyrating flight prices in April made me a little nervous, and when I saw Orbitz advertising Barcelona to Dublin to Boston to DC for a couple hundred dollars cheaper than the next closest option, I frantically clicked "Buy Now", purchasing the first flight of my journey. As a friend put it, "You're either brilliant or insane for booking the last leg of your trip first."

As I had managed to arrive in Barcelona as scheduled, the stars were aligned for me to arrive home on time! Let me provide you with the play-by-play commentary I wrote down during my 24 hour travel day:

06:05 Central Eastern Summer Time (UTC+2): I am woken up by Australians returning from a late night out in Barcelona. Bloody hell. At least I'm not going to miss my morning flight. Love them or hate them, the Australians definitely take the crown for heaviest partying nationality I encountered on my trip.

06:55 CEST: I check out of my hostel, strap on my money belt, and venture out vigilantly into the pickpocket infested streets of Barcelona.

07:55 CEST: I arrive at "El Prat" airport, well in time for checking into my 10:50 flight. There's no one yet staffing the Aer Lingus counter and a queue has formed.

08:20 CEST: T minus 2.5 hours to the flight, and still no agents available for check-in. When I had booked the flight, Aer Lingus was teetering on the verge of bankruptcy, and I hope that there isn't a labor strike today that I didn't get the memo on.

08:25 CEST: I make friends with the family of 4 behind me in the queue, who are also transferring to the Boston flight in Dublin. They finish their day with a 90 minute drive to Maine, and have been on a 3 week cruise in the Mediterranean. They ask about my trip and I mention that I have been traveling around the world for two months. The father, slightly unimpressed, comments, "I did something like that once for a whole year...started in India." Once again my trip has been outclassed.

08:30 CEST: Some airline agents appear but no one is being checked in yet. The Maine guy speculates that it's their first day and they therefore need to be trained. Indeed it does appear that the delay is due to someone needing instruction.

08:45 CEST: Passengers finally start getting checked in, and I'm relieved that I will have time for a leisurely breakfast at the airport.

08:50 CEST: My discipline for getting to the airport early is rewarded with a window seat in the exit row for my first flight. As the New Zealanders say, sweet as!

08:55 CEST: I start my day off with a delicious jamon bocadillo, a fruit cup, and a big water.

09:20 CEST: I have some euros to burn and need a pick-me-up. I order a cappuccino.

10:15 CEST: Boarding for the Aer Lingus flight to Dublin commences by walking onto a bus and riding to an Airbus A320 in the middle of the tarmac. We are really out there.

10:20 CEST: My exit row window seat is blocked by two teenage Irish girls who don't seem to understand that seat "C" is on the aisle. I don't enforce my seat assignment and take the aisle seat, promising in my mind to be very passive-aggressive if either of the girls dares to use the restroom during the 2 hour 10 minute flight to Dublin.

10:50 CEST: Airborne for flight #1, on time.

12:05 CEST: I awaken from a nap. Pull my iPod out from my bag, as I'm in serious need to listen to some America-inspired music. Homesickness has hit a crescendo. I have a fair bit to choose from, such as "American Woman" by the Guess Who, "American Boy" by Estelle & Kanye West, and "American Idiot" by Green Day.

12:30 CEST: I move to "Born in the USA" by Springsteen.

12:40 CEST: Now listening to Jimi Hendrix's "Star Spangled Banner". Realize why old people in the 60s hated hippies.

12:50 CEST: Pilot's announcement about impending arrival to Dublin. I feel the need to fire up some Irish music on the iPod, and switch to the Cranberries.

12:15 Irish Summer Time (UTC+1): Arrival at Dublin airport.

12:20 IST: Disembark the plane via stairs and observe that summer has temporarily ended. It's overcast and 17 degrees C (63 degrees F). Am glad I am wearing long sleeves.

12:25 IST: The boarding area at Dublin Airport is one of the worst I've ever seen for what is not a small facility. I take a long walk to my connecting gate down a tight crowded hallway.

12:27 IST: I'm amused by the use of the Irish language on all the airport signage, as I thought everyone in Ireland spoke English. I've never visited Ireland (besides the airport of course), but am I wrong?

12:30 IST: I see that I will need to clear passport control, odd as I'm not leaving the airport and I traveled between EU nations.

12:36 IST: I officially enter Ireland and receive yet another stamp in the old passport. Very friendly Irish agent directs me to the Aer Lingus transfer desk.

12:40 IST: Receive my boarding pass for the Boston flight and instructed that I need to report for boarding in 5 minutes, despite scheduled departure not being until 14:00. Bah. Plans for lunch in Dublin airport are thwarted.

12:45 IST: Long trek towards my connecting gate.

12:50 IST: The airport quality has improved considerably beyond passport control, and I'm now passing lots of good restaurants and Guinness pubs. Dammit. I really want to catch my US flight, though.

12:55 IST: Finally reach my gate area, and see that I will actually need to clear US passport control to board my flight. Novel pre-clearing procedure -- I had only seen this in Canada before. Fill out my customs form and proceed.

13:02 IST: I officially leave Ireland after a 26 minute stay. DHS agent comments, "You've been to a lot of countries on this trip, haven't you?"

13:05 IST: "Entering the US" consists of gaining access to a cramped holding pen with people waiting around for the Boston departure. Walls are plastered with information about "The Irish in America", "Emigration from Ireland", "Contemporary Irish America", and "Ireland and America in the 21st Century", containing pithy statements of important knowledge such as, "Emigration from Ireland to the United States is a long established practice."

13:10 IST: I need some food and water, but all I see are a couple vending machines and a tiny cafe. I enter the latter, purchase a Danish and a bottle of water. Rings up to €4.59, and for the first time in my life I receive back the €0.01 coin. What a piece of rubbish.

13:30 IST: Receive notification from the gate agent that she apologizes for the brief boarding delay which is due to a "minor" technical issue. Update promised at 13:45.

14:00 IST: The "13:45 update" arrives 15 minutes late, and we have bad news. The flight is delayed and we won't receive another update until 14:45.

14:15 IST: I fire up the iPod again and turn on "Zombie" by the Cranberries, because I feel like one now.

14:20 IST: I need some American music again. iPod switches to John Denver's "Take Me Home, Country Roads".

14:30 IST: The airline gods had been so friendly to me for the past two months. Had taken 20 flights and each was within an hour of being on time. And I hadn't lost my backpack despite needing to check it each time. My luck appears to have finally run out.

14:40 IST: I realize I now stand little change of making by 18:02 connecting JetBlue flight in Boston, and run through the scenarios in my head of what to do if I get marooned in Dublin.

15:00 IST: "14:45 update" arrives late to inform us that, in fact, they have no new information and will update at 15:15.

15:05 IST: I've reached my breaking point. In need of food, drink, and psychological relief I head back to the cafe, by now picked clean of almost all food items. To alleviate all 3 ailments I choose a bottle of Guinness, which appears to have been placed there for precisely this scenario. There probably hasn't been a run on these because you just don't get that full Guinness experience from a bottle.

15:10 IST: Guinness rings up at an outrageous €5.50 ($7.09). Feels even more extortionate considering it's brewed just down the road, it's served in a bottle without a widget, and I don't even get a glass to pour the beer in. In spite all this, the Guinness is still pretty refreshing.

15:15 IST: For once we receive an update on time. We're now promised a 16:30 departure with boarding commencing at 15:50. Relieved that at least I will end up in the US tonight.

15:20 IST: With my foreign currency balance dwindled to €2.26, I decide I need to clean out. I finish my Guinness in the cafe and hear a guy at the counter order a bag of chips for €1.40. I decide that's what I want and I jump back in the cafe queue, which is now quite long.

15:30 IST: Still standing in the cafe queue, chatting with the American in front of me. Turns out he lives in Appleton, WI and went to college at UW-Madison. A Badger connection! He also knows someone in my incoming Darden school class -- when I meet Veneet in a couple weeks I should tell him I ran into his college buddy Taej at the Dublin airport!

15:35 IST: Taej and I order the final two bags of chips. I drop my residual €0.86 in the tip jar as the poor cafe lady looks exhausted.

15:40 IST: Have entered airport hell. The United States on Irish soil is pretty terrible.

15:55 IST: We finally start boarding for the Boston flight.

16:00 IST: A lot of ads for the New York PD covering the interior of the jetbridge to board the aircraft.

16:50 IST: The captain apologizes to us for the lengthy delay, which he attributes to a supply truck barging into the original aircraft. As the damage couldn't be repaired the solution was to bring us a new plane. I don't see how this qualifies as "minor".

16:55 IST: Aer Lingus flight 137 bound for Boston has taken off!

17:20 IST: I've locked in the window seat in a favorable 2-4-2 configuration, but my seatmate has now entered the "demilitarized zone" by laying full claim to the armrest and digging his elbow into my side. I once again promise some passive-aggressive fury if he needs anything from me on this flight.

18:00 IST: First movie I select from my in-seat screen is "The Last Station", a new movie about the end of Tolstoy's life. It's confusing.

19:40 IST: First film ends. Still 3.5 hours to go before we land.

19:55 IST: Shift to TV, and start watching an episode of HBO's "Entourage". Hadn't seen it in months -- great show!

20:00 IST: These shows are all preceded by several minutes of advertising for Irish restaurants located in midtown Manhattan. I didn't realize there were so many. Too bad we're landing in the wrong city.

20:15 IST: Halfway through a hilarious "Entourage" episode guest starring Matt Damon. Are there any women actually named "Sloan"? This has always bothered me about the show...

20:30 IST: Show over, time for a bathroom break. Still 2.5 hours, ugh.

21:30 IST: Watch episodes of "Frasier" and "Family Guy", then fall asleep for another nap.

22:15 IST: Awakened by in-flight meal service. Devour a cheese scone.

22:45 IST: An episode of "30 Rock".

18:30 Eastern Daylight Time (UTC-4): We arrive at the gate in Boston! Technically, however, I've already been in the US for 10 hours.

18:40 EDT: Am thankful that my backpack is one of the first bags to pop out of the luggage carousel, and that I won't be greeted by an interminable line at passport control.

18:45 EDT: Stuck in the bowels of Logan Airport, again at the Aer Lingus transfer desk.

19:00 EDT: Thankfully Aer Lingus has rebooked me on a later JetBlue flight scheduled to depart at 20:20. Switch terminals and check in seamlessly to my third flight. That was easy.

19:10 EDT: Sit down in food court for a quick meal so I'm not starving when I arrive at home. Order my first burrito in two months. It's huge! I need to get re-acclimated with American portion sizes.

19:30 EDT: 20:20 flight has already been delayed to 20:40. Call my mom to let her know -- this day just won't end.

20:20 EDT: We have a plane on the ground here but no crew, which is still airborne on a flight from New York. Boarding has been delayed until 21:00.

20:30 EDT: I'm getting really tired -- it's already 02:30 Barcelona time, and I slept 4 hours last night.

21:45 EDT: JetBlue flight to Dulles airport finally taking off. My re-booking onto the later flight has forced me into a middle seat, but I really don't care. So tired.

23:05 EDT: We land in Washington! So close to ending my day.

23:25 EDT: My backpack pops out yet again...22 for 22 on my trip! Somehow Murphy's Law hasn't struck yet again -- it's not as if today's 3.5 hour delay crippled me.

23:30 EDT: My mom is at the airport almost immediately to pick me up. Greets me with a big hug.

0:05 EDT: 24 hours after waking up, I've finally reached my mom's house. Home sweet home! My mom wants to tell me about everything that's happened over the last two months, and I need to shoo her away so I can sleep.

Barcelona – City of Contradictions

The final stop on my world tour was the romantically alluring city of Barcelona, Spain. Though I had looked forward to this stop for months I was now like a rock star on his last legs, desperate to get home. I had 4 days and I looked to make the best of it.

I was done with vapid Ibiza and needed an infusion of history and culture. One of the important old European cities, Barcelona certainly had both to offer. Unfortunately Barcelona also has enough urban grit to deter the squeamish. Every guide I referred to screamed about the city’s rampant pickpocketing epidemic, and it also has its fair share of poorly lit dodgy streets to be fearful of at night. You see a lot of graffiti and most shops fence themselves off after closing. At times Barcelona was one of the most beautiful cities I had ever visited, and at other times it was one of the sketchiest.

One of the first things a visitor notices upon arrival at Barcelona’s airport is the trilingual translation of all the signs. There’s English, there’s Spanish, and there’s something that looks French or Italian – must be Catalan. It’s a common misperception that Catalan is simply a dialect of Spanish; it’s very much its own language.

I took the airport bus to the city center at Placa Catalunya, then raced to the Metro subway and made sure to cover my pockets. With all my stuff on me I felt very vulnerable, and my eyes darted back and forth as people approached. The Metro tunnels are unbearably hot in Barcelona. Lugging around a 25lb backpack, I broke quite a sweat.

I checked into the Mambo Tango hostel on Poeta Cabanyes street and appreciated the cool air conditioning on a hot summer afternoon. Despite being only 100 miles away Barcelona felt much warmer than Ibiza, and I understood why people in Spain embrace the afternoon siesta. I embraced it myself with a nap.

I woke up feeling much better and made my way towards the Parc Montjuic, a big hill overlooking the city, which was also the home of the 1992 Summer Olympics. Really beautiful – if all of Barcelona was this pretty I was really going to enjoy the place. The old Olympic stadium had a great classical architecture and was very well done – must have hosted a terrific games 18 years ago.

I walked a little further to a building that looked like a palace. “What could that be?” I wondered. It looked like a palace for a great kingdom, but no! It was an art museum! The Museu Nacional D’Art De Catalunya. An absolutely massive structure…how could they possibly find enough art to fill it all?! Being on a hill, the art museum provided a great view of the city – no skyscrapers like many European cities but a couple important buildings do stand out (more on that later). Also a grand view overlooking the Placa Espanya.

By the time I was walking back to my hostel it was getting late, a little after 9PM. Perfect time in Spain to eat! Spain’s timing is unusual for Americans – you eat late, you go out very late, and don’t try to get any errands done mid-afternoon.

I wasn’t super hungry, and there was a famous tapas place next to my hostel. Would have been the perfect introduction to Spanish cuisine, but there was a line out the door, leaving me to scamper around looking for the next best option. After wandering around the block for awhile I poked my head into a bar and sat down. The bartender was an Asian immigrant so I felt safe using my 20 word Spanish vocabulary with him! I recognized “chorizo” on the menu and tried to order it, but it came in two forms. I went for the “bocadillo” variety, and was pleased to see a sandwich come out of the kitchen. It was tasty too, and washed down with a local Estrella Damm beer my total only came out to €5. Great success!

My next day started at the museum of the world-famous FC Barcelona at their stadium, the Camp Nou. Though I’m game for all things soccer, this museum does more than just describe a sports team – it also showcases the Catalan identity and the sometimes violent struggle it has had with the Spanish national government. The club’s Catalan slogan, “Més Que Un Club”, translated as “More Than A Club”, highlights the club’s history as a symbol of Catalan nationalism and pride during the dark days of the Spanish Civil War and the totalitarian Franco regime.

The stadium tour is cool – you get to sit in all three tiers and check out the club president’s box, the finest seats in the house. You then get to walk through the players tunnel to the field and imagine walking out to play in front of 98,000 fans. There are all sorts of cool interactive video exhibits and I think you can watch every famous Barca goal ever scored.

I headed from there back to the Placa Catalunya, more fun now that I didn’t have all my gear with me. Right off of there is the famous La Rambla, one of the most vibrant streets to be found anywhere. It contained all the cheesy tourist souvenir shops that I needed to visit, as I hadn’t yet purchased anything for my family and I couldn’t return from two months of travel without bringing gifts! The street also has a wide array of street people in costume, pet salesman (you can purchase anything that fits in a cage), and of course pickpockets! Walking back to my hostel I got a little lost and stumbled upon what I believe was a street full of daytime prostitutes. They started yelling at me in English and I ran away real fast!

When you travel you meet people, and sometimes they have a way of popping up again. Remember Pam, the friend I made in Hong Kong? She was in Europe on business and heading over to Barcelona for some sightseeing, so she's back in my blog!

After Pam arrived Friday evening we went out for some beers to catch up, then needed to find some food in a foreign country. Sadly my Spanish was even better than her’s, which meant we would have problems! Along the same street where I had been the night previously we walked into a different bar, this one with a picture menu. I picked out a couple tapas and started to try to order in Spanish. Again the waiter was Asian, so when we hit a communications snag after my 20 words vocabulary was exhausted, Pam starts speaking to the waiter in Mandarin. They have a perfectly fluent conversation, and soon food appears! So lesson learned; if you speak Spanish OR Mandarin, you’re fine in Barcelona!

We capped the night off with a beer at a place popular with absinthe lovers and which probably hasn’t seen a paintbrush in 30 years. We got lost looking for a second bar and were guarding ourselves tightly on the dreary urban streets around La Rambla – I’m really glad my hostel was in a safer-looking area.

On Saturday, Pam and I woke up early to catch a free walking tour of the Old City. We started in Placa Reial and wandered a couple hours in the historic Gothic Quarter, learning the histories of Barcelona and Catalonia along the way. This included the majestic city hall and regional parliament buildings, the Barcelona cathedral with its 13 white geese, and Roman ruins.

We stuck to the Spanish schedule, eating their typically big lunch and then retiring to our lodgings for afternoon naps. When we woke up, we returned to the Parc Montjuic and took a cable car ride to the Castell de Montjuic, a big fortress built to protect the city in the 17th and 18th centuries. Though we were too late to go inside we were perfectly timed to see a superb panoramic view of the city near sunset.

We stumbled down the big hill and were heading in the direction of the waterfront when we heard music. We walked towards it and found an exciting street festival! The music was accompanied by “gigantes”, giant mannequin-like figures of traditional Catalonians propped on the shoulders of people who make them dance up and down to the music. Pam and I didn’t quite understand what was going on; a local told us that this was a traditional neighborhood festival.

After a tasty dinner we walked to the Columbus Monument, then along the marina where a pack of racing sailboats where stowed for a regatta. Passing by the aquarium we walked to Barceloneta, the city’s beach neighborhood. Pam and I were disgusted by what we saw – easily the most trash-filled beach I have ever seen!

My final day in Barcelona began with another free walking tour, this one of the buildings by the world-famous architect Antoni Gaudi. His buildings defy traditional form and are uniquely his own – almost every famous residence in the city belongs to him.

Our Argentinean guide showed us the famous residences of Palau Guell, Casa Batilo, and La Pedrera. We learned that what are now some of Gaudi’s most famous works were highly controversial when first constructed.

The tour ended at Barcelona’s most famous landmark of all, the Sagrada Familia cathedral, 125 years in the making and still going! The construction has long outlived Gaudi, but his architectural legacy lives on to this very day as modern contractors try to assemble his intricate masterpiece.

Another long lunch and another nap followed. When we reconvened, Pam and I headed for the final two big landmarks we hadn’t seen – the Parc Guell and the Magic Fountain.

Parc Guell was also designed by Gaudi, but would have been too vast for a 3 hour walking tour. It is, without question, my favorite of Gaudi’s works. The best part is an elevated terrace held up by classic pillars and lined with mosaics. The stonework here is very colorful and appealing to the eye.

We took the long walk from the Parc back to Metro. On the train halfway to the Placa Espanya stop a man boarded screaming "STOP IT! DON'T YOU EVER DO THAT AGAIN!" The use of English was surprising, but the man was a tourist, and he held out his finger to point at a stone-faced woman who had just boarded the car and taken a seat. "SHE TRIED TO PICK MY POCKET! SHE'S THE ONE!" We all sat there dumbfounded, not sure what to do. I can see why a city would have a pickpocket problem -- this incident illustrates how hard they are to pin down -- but I can't understand why the problem would be so much worse in Barcelona than other cities. A greater cultural acceptance of thievery??

The Magic Fountain, a nighttime event at the art museum, is visually catchy. Not as good as the Bellagio fountain in Vegas but similar idea – moving fountains set to music against a stunning backdrop.

Having seen both the good and the bad in Barcelona, I’m now intrigued by Spain and would like to see how Madrid compares. Spain can be difficult for an English speaker, so before I make my next trip I need to improve at my Spanish speaking!