TravelGal – Page 41 – TravelGal's Notes

July 17, 2015April 20, 2021

Part 1 – Toothless in Seattle…

The trip was going to be epic. After all, we had seriously big plans for it:

We were we going to ride down almost the entire West Coast in just about 10 days.
We wanted to spend some time in all three of its biggest cities – Seattle, San Francisco and Los Angeles.
In addition, the plan included a dip into the Mojave Desert to take a look at the wacky sights around Rachel, Nevada.
We also had a couple of boxes to check in Las Vegas, but all in its turn…

Altogether, we were going to do a little over 2,000 miles (about 3,500 km) in 15 days.

The agenda was full, and dental clinics were not part of it.

Yet, this is what the vacation started with. Still in Munich, having gone out for a meal to celebrate the start of the 3 weeks of freedom the night before the flight, I chipped my front tooth, which made me look like a Frankenstein bride or an aspiring Dracula (make your pick of an analogy – both reflect the reality pretty accurately). Not a bad look for Halloween, but one generally frowned upon by immigration officers around the world. And definitely NOT the look I wanted to carry around with me for three weeks in a row!!!

After a series of desperate calls around Munich, an emergency dental clinic was located and visited. They calmed me down a bit – the temporary fix looked decent, and I could smile again without scaring little children.

Isn’t it ironic, what a difference a tiny bit of artificial substance makes?… You can be dressed in couture and all, but a missing front tooth immediately turns you into a hobo. At the same time, a person in rags but with shiny white straight teeth just comes out as non-conformist. America sure got the memo on teeth – this is the first thing people are judged by. Well, I have to correct myself here – most of America. The redneck states definitely passed on this one… The biker camporee I went to 3 years ago surely supported this sentiment – the average number of teeth in a typical resident of North Carolina seemed to be equal to the median IQ numbers. But I have started straying away from the topic…

After 10 tedious hours in coach, we crawled out of the depths of Seattle Tacoma airport, dazed and disoriented, and stood at the curb, waiting for Cindy to pick us up. She was only 3 miles away, but the traffic situation did not look promising… Our curb-side position presented an ideal spot for people- and car-watching. Judging by our observations, most locals must have been stoned, in a coma, turning into zombies, or all of the above. Bad driving is not really a novelty on the North American continent, but Seattle Tacoma seemed to be beating all records. Women in huge SUVs were stopping in the middle of a two-lane street, seemingly oblivious to the honks and curses from dozens of cars blocked behind them. Half-broken and most certainly illegal vehicles were left idling at the curb with engines running, while the drivers disappeared into the terminal with busy looks on their faces. Tearful reunions were happening in the midst of traffic, and suitcases were blocking the lanes better than police barriers.

Cindy’s car forced its way through the crazies, our suitcases full of German beer (presents), and motorcycle clothing (road trip essentials) were thrown in, and we were on our way in no time. Seattle skyline, thoroughly familiar through the “Grey’s Anatomy” series I have been watching religiously for the past five years, soon appeared on the horizon. To my surprise, the Space Needle was dwarfed by the surrounding sky-scrapes, and seemed completely lost in their midst. We were obviously approaching the city from a wrong angle.

Back to the tooth Odyssey, though. Instead of going home, we went to celebrate our arrival with some wine and snacks in the marina, and enjoy the surprisingly warm and sunny weather (shouldn’t it be raining in Seattle all the time?…). After the first careless bite into a bread roll the second half of my unfortunate tooth decided it liked the roll better and stayed with it. What the fuck!?… We were back to square one… More desperate calls, more Internet search, and one more dental clinic later, I had an appointment for 8 the following morning to fix the damage. Great!… I was toothless in Seattle… Just what every girl dreams about!… Considering our big plans this was especially frustrating, and I was on the verge of a full-blown panic, ready to swear off any kind of food for the weeks to come. Spending the following three weeks toothless riding through America would definitely help blend in with the more mainstream biker crowd, but was seriously NOT in my plans.

My panic was temporarily drowned in bottomless quantities of wine (thank God [who does not really exist] for compassionate friends, who kept filling my glass!). It was permanently subdued the following morning by a fantastic and quick job done on my dentures at the 8to8 dental clinic by a cute and almost completely round Asian guy covered with piercings. Long live American dentistry!!!! The newly-reconstructed tooth looked better and whiter than all his real neighbors put together, but the cute dentist assured me that it would only take a cup of coffee or a couple glasses of wine for the new family member to blend in. I did not hesitate to follow his advice, and within hours after the procedure I was happily sedated from my existential pain, and the bright whiteness of the tooth started to fade out.

While I was being medicated and patched up, Nic & Cindy were catching up in a nearby bar on the last 8 years that they had not seen each other. Never mind the 8 in the morning – the beer was flowing freely, and the waitresses were smiley! When I emerged from the depths of the clinic with my newly-reconstructed smile, both were well lubricated and over-eager to move on to breakfast. Which we did without further hesitation.

Bloody Marys accompanied by designer grits in Terra Plata, a rooftop bar/restaurant/popular in-crowd hangout on Capitol Hill, were the heavenly balm to my wounds. I had almost forgotten about Bloody Marys!.. How could I?… THE #1 breakfast drink I discovered about 4 years ago in Minneapolis and thoroughly enjoyed!!! Once remembered, there was no way of holding back – Bloody Marys, here I come! Time and place to seriously consider liquid diet for the next few weeks.

Grits is a Southern invention, and I was introduced to it in its natural habitat – a Waffle House in North Carolina. I sort of liked it even there, but the dish that was brought to me in Seattle was a work of culinary art and a designer product! I must admit, the sole reason behind my choice was food consistency not requiring any biting or chewing – I was determined to keep my newly-acquired teeth at any cost. The unexpectedly delightful dish with steamed kale salad, pine nuts, and sheep cheese confirmed to me that I was on the right path.

Teeth and designer breakfasts aside, the biggest surprise of the day was yet to come. We happened to land in Seattle on the eve of the Solstice Day Parade – an occasion that happens to be almost religiously observed by people “up North” in America. Being as close to the North Pole as anywhere in the United States (apart from Alaska) can get, one day a year the Seattle Fremont district throws away the prudish mask, and embraces the freedom of self-expression in its entirety. Hundreds of stark-naked people covered with elaborate body paint flood the streets of the downtown, parading about on bicycles, roller-skates, on foot, and on all sorts of weird transportation.

One such artifact spotted in the crowd was a periwinkle-blue VW flower-power bus made of cardboard and put over two bicycles, pedaled by two naked guys with flowers painted all over them. There were naked Darth Vaders, Pink Panthers, Elvises, Santa Clauses, cave men, dragons and vampires… Unlike most other public exhibits of nakedness, the Fremont happening included not only the old, feeble and ugly (who seem to be the first eager to undress anywhere), but also quite a few fit and good-looking people. Hats off, Seattle – you made public nakedness palatable again!

The whole scene was quite surreal, though – the last thing you can expect to see in the otherwise quite prudish United States, is people parading about naked, proudly showing off their tits and dicks painted into all colors of the rainbow!… Yet, this was exactly what was happening – the sheer volume of clearly exposed and proudly presented “dicks of the day” was not a sight for the feeble-minded.

Even though the parade covered only one street in the Fremont district of Seattle, it went on for a couple of hours (!), with people running and riding around in circles up and down the street. The locals came prepared – people brought chairs and parasols, the most dedicated spectators hauled in sofas and coffee tables, positioning them on both sides of the street to get the best view, and spreading out refreshments and picnic food.

After the parade the party continued at the nearby abandoned gas works on the hill with a stunning view of the Seattle skyline. The Space Needle no longer looked small – either the alcohol was working, or we finally found the right angle! The sun was shining, the view was spectacular, the bands were playing, the nudies were playing Frisbee – all in all, a perfect ending to our first full day in Seattle.

June 7, 2015December 14, 2021

Barcelona! – Day 2: Queues, Processions & Freaks

Inspired by the previous day’s serendipity with the market, we were intent to catch up on the sightseeing program. Reconstructed from memory, today’s agenda had Park Guell and Sagrada Familia on it – two of Barcelona’s main landmarks created by the visionary architect Antoni Gaudi.

We took the underground and climbed the hills to Park Guell (and, shit, was there climbing involved! The park lies on top of some really steep hills, and even though some of the streets leading to it were equipped with escalators, the climb was not for the weak or faint-hearted!). Catching our breath on the way, we came face to face with the first queue of the day: about a hundred people were lining up for entry tickets, and the welcoming sign at the door announced that tickets being sold were valid for entry 3 hours from now. After short contemplation, we weighed our options and turned away, deciding to try our luck the following day, and booking said tickets online.

Heading back into town, we read up on the possible itineraries, and found a day’s architectural walk through downtown, starting at Sagrada Familia. Nic had his mind set on the place, as, technically, this was the main reason for our choosing Barcelona as our next destination in the first place. I had only vague memories of the whimsical cathedral from my first brief acquaintance with the city, and was also curious to explore it in more detail. Turned out, both our hopes should not have been held too high. Upon arrival we faced yet another queue, coiling like a big fat snake all the way around the cathedral, and looking pretty desperate. To add to the disappointment, two of cathedral’s eight towers were completely covered with scaffoldings – either being built, or renovated. Sagrada Familia is a work in progress, stretching over a hundred and thirty years, and still not anywhere near the finish line. The fact that the original Gaudi’s designs were burned in the fire a while ago, and had to be reconstructed by all means and imagination possible, did not speed up the process. Still, looking at this unfinished masterpiece, one cannot help but admire the genius mind that imagined it. Even with the existing 8 towers the building looks humongous, but the original design called for 18 (!) When (and if) all 18 are finished, Sagrada Familia will be the tallest church in the world.

Having admired the masterpiece in progress from the outside, we ventured off on our foot walk through the architectural downtown. Much to our amazed satisfaction, not only did the buildings mentioned in the Lonely Planet exit, but they actually were worth looking at, and could well compete with the publicly known tourist attractions. We went past a string of amazing art nouveau buildings, randomly scattered through downtown Barcelona – each a more unusual projection of architectural grandeur of the century.

By way of architectural musings: during our walk through downtown, I could not but notice some common features in all the beautiful buildings populating the city. Where Verona was distinguished and united by balconies, Barcelona was definitely a city of windows. Long and vertical, decorated with wooden shutters of all forms and colors, they made the buildings look more open and slim, reaching for the skies like city trees deprived of sunshine.

We seemed to have been the only ones, straying off the beaten path – our walk through the side streets and forgotten alleys was mostly solitary, with barely a tourist in sight. However, every time we came out into the opening or crossing marked by a famous sight, it was so besieged by fellow-travelers, patiently queuing in endless lines around it, that we had to turn away in frustration mixed with disgust.

The only place we managed to get in that day was La Cathedral (aka the Barcelona Cathedral), that in addition to its beautifully Gothic architecture boasts its own garden in the yard, with flowers, palm trees, a fish pond full of koi and a flock of 13 white geese proudly residing on premises.

Beautiful and unique as downtown Barcelona is, with its phantasmagorical art nouveau buildings and mysterious-looking streets and alleys, the strongest impression of the day and our whole trip was yet to come. We happened to be in the city at Easter, and although we briefly read somewhere about Catalan Easter processions, we could not, in our wildest dreams, imagine just how gorgeously creepy and magnificently scary they were!… But all in its turn.

Aimlessly walking around downtown in the late afternoon, we stumbled upon the first, most regular-looking one of all. The clergy of the Barcelona Cathedral, serious, yet cheerful-looking, all dressed up to the nines, were taking Jesus for a walk around the block. Jesus was relaxing on a huge cross, towering over the crowds. The priests of varied ranks, were marching in slow and dignified order around the cathedral, stopping every now and hen to give the crowds an opportunity to cheer, pray, cry, or sing, according to their tastes and inclinations. The procession was stylish, dignified and despite the guy on the cross had an overall positive mood.

Cheerfullness did not last long. The second procession we caught up with while exploring the neighborhood alleys was headed by an oompa-band playing funeral marches, followed by severe-looking Catalan women, in black clothes and high head dresses, carrying tall body-size lit candles and hugging gold-encrusted Bibles to their chests. Behind them moved a maxi hearse made entirely of flowers, on top of which the statue of Mary Magdalen dressed in what looked like bridal gear was hugging the dead and bloodied body of Jesus. The dead body looked a bit too realistic to my taste, but the crowds gathering the procession did not share my sentiment – everybody was gushing simultaneously, and taking selfies with iPads… Upon closer inspection the hearse turned out to be hollow inside, and carried by on shoulders of a dozen or so people guiding the thing from the inside. This was only the beginning of the fun, though. The hearse was followed by a festive-looking Ku-Klux-Klan gathering in black dresses and purple cassocks with only little holes for the eyes. They were silent and concentrated, carried heavy lanterns, and included both, grown-ups and children, all in black and purple clan gear. In the falling twilight, walking slowly and solemnly along the narrow dark alleys of a medieval town, the procession looked freakishly weird.

Following the Klan group in a mesmerized admiration, we walked back into the main square, where thousands of people gathered to greet the third and the biggest procession of all. This one was made up of two walking hearses at a respectable distance from one another. The procession was headed by scary-looking group of a couple of dozen men dressed in black pointed cassocks with little slits for the eyes, all carrying torches or lanterns. Judging by the air of authority, they seemed to be the higher-ranking members of the same medieval Ku-Klux-Klan revival, and looked like they meant business. By now the twilight thickened, and the black figures looked especially menacing and spooky.

The first hearse of the final procession was a lushly decorated golden flower-bed with the statue of Jesus in a crimson robe carrying the cross on top.

Right behind it a group of middle-aged and elderly women, dressed in black robes, was walking barefoot and in chains, each carrying a decent-size wooden cross of their own on their backs. A couple of women were also making simultaneous attempts at flogging themselves with whips they happened to have handy.

They were followed by yet another group of Klan guys – these in white robes with dark green pointed cassocks, followed by the main attraction of the evening – the last hearse that looked like a cross between a throne and a bed. It was made of what looked like heavy gold, decorated with white flowers, and filled with candles. Amid all this luxury sat a big figure of Santa Macarena, or the Catalan version of the Virgin Mary. Suspiciously Mary was wearing a bridal dress and a golden halo crown, although, I am by far not an expert on Catholic Easter traditions…

Looking at the processions in the quickly thickening twilight, you could not help but think that a sight of cassocked men with torches and women flogging themselves with whips was probably the last thing you could imagine seeing in the middle of a 21st century European capital… This should definitely be on every self-respecting Goth’s list! Another one of the lesser-known weird sights of this world added to the bucket list of our collective experience…