(RT: http://www.dailykos.com/story/2006/12/7/04913/9030 via @brian_brooks)

The Hasselblad photos below are from that first day, and the polaroids at the bottom are a few of my favorites of Parker’s work on this project so far this year.

Polaroids:

Sunday afternoon  in Spain, driving back to Barcelona along the Mediterranean coast. The landscape is breathtaking and Amos keeps pulling off to the side of the road for us to photograph the beauty. Today is our last day in Spain and we are savoring every last sight. This morning, we awoke again on the coast. I walked the rocky beach for awhile, as Amos was still asleep in the car. We drove into the nearest town and found a bakery, at which we purchased some last minute gifts and espressos. On the road back to Barcelona, we passed a Spanish rummage sale and without hesitation, turned back immediately. This is the thing we love most, finding those hidden treasures amongst the junk. Amos found an old painting of ships on canvas and I a vintage fisherman’s basket. We were quite content with our purchases as they were the perfect way to end our trip.

The past few days have included the most aesthetic scenes I have ever experienced. I am feeling quite lucky to have been able to spend this time in Spain with Amos, being inspired by sharing new experiences. Although we only made it to two cities, we have both decided that we would like to return and explore more of this beautiful country.

En route to Oklahoma City in the morning.

Amos:

The last two days have whizzed by, as should be expected as we speed by so much scenery and the speed at which you see a landscape from the window of a moving car. As Laura mentions, we’ve stopped many times, pulling over to the side of the road to shoot pictures, or to take in the views and the feel of the air.

We’ve been struck since arriving in Spain with how dry and arid of a climate it seems to have, especially as we drive further south along the Mediterranean. Its rather  surreal even in this dry land, which feels like southern California or Mexico, to see mile after mile of orange and lemon fields and the many other things that grow here. Every field we drive by is also littered with the old ruins of buildings, mostly white stucco looking buildings that are likely hundreds and hundreds of years old.

Deciding to rent a car and drive south may have been one of the best ideas we’ve had for this trip. Its given us a great opportunity to explore at our own speed, a bit of a contrast from the rest of this trip. Not at all that traveling by foot and rail have been a bad or dissatisfying experience. We are obviously Americans in that once we got into the comfortable private space of our own car, there was an obvious feeling of comfortability and familiarity that were previously slightly lacking.

The first things we did when getting out on the road last Thursday was to stop for some food at a supermarket, and then making sandwiches on the beach between Barcelona and Valencia. We’ve made many similar stops since then, becoming more familiar with the Spanish supermarkets (which never contain peanut butter) and simplicity of the smaller towns we drive through. They all contain some sort of café/bar at the very least, and some of which we’ve stopped at for an morning or afternoon coffee, but have felt much less comfortable spending time in them than those in the city.

Our original goal in renting a car and driving was to make it as far as Gibraltar or Ronda. Because of the volcano delay and our extra time spent in Paris, in the end we only made it about half way to the southern tip of the country. We knew when we started, however, that if we wanted to explore the countryside, stop for photos when something looked interesting, or get any sleep at all, we should just drive south without a set plan of what most southern point we would reach.

After Valencia and the hostel we’d booked in advance there, arriving in towns and finding a place to stay didn’t seem at all predictable, and I had somewhat of a hunch it would go that way, but we were lucky enough to have rented a car with seats that lay back far enough to fall asleep on. I suppose I speak for myself, because those three nights I felt fine, while Laura wasn’t nearly as satisfied. The first night in the car seemed almost magical because as we drove late into the night, I knew we were still near the coast, and the exit I chose took us to a quaint little beach lined with a style of beach houses we’d never seen before. What was even better was that we easily found an RV parking lot quite near the ocean and the area felt much safer to simply pull over for the night than many places we’d driven through. The next morning, it was only a hop and a skip (which is roughly equal to a quarter mile drive) down to the row of beach houses and cafés for a morning café con leche and a coca cola. That early morning walk on the beach was one of our favorite and most surreal moments.

Another great place we stumbled upon was by way of a road through the mountains. It was interesting how many mountains we could always see in the distance in Spain. It was like range after range, and at one point we were crossing a hilly rise towards the ocean from a highway further in from the coast. As I mentioned, we saw old buildings’ ruins almost everywhere and as we came around an elevated bend in the highway, we saw a small group of horses down in the valley among some ruined buildings. I was rather dissatisfied with the pictures I got from the road but it wasn’t hard at all to find the little trail of a road that led back to the fence bordering the horses’ pen. The Spanish horses had some form of majesty to them, standing tall among the dry hills and old buildings.

On another similar experience we were driving through a very small villa whose back roads we explored simply out of curiosity. The road we were on for a moment was an old creek bed and as we pulled around a corner I stopped the car because ahead of us were three small dogs sitting simply in the road in a very quaint and orderly perpendicular fashion. I remember it as seeming so odd and surreal, thinking, “Where in the world are we?”. The dogs, however curious they were as I approached them with a camera, didn’t stick around for long.

We packed as much final action into our last day on the road as we could. We knew at some point we would have to condense the whole of our sprawled existence into the few bags we had in order to return home. We complicated the situation by spying what I assume is the how the Spanish hold their garage sales: a lot in town filled with small tents and tables presumably owned by the members of the neighborhood and other traveling merchants looking to pawn their “goods”. Laura and I are good rummagers, and such places are the most likely times for us to find the sorts of items while traveling that we will truly enjoy (as opposed to the silly touristy souvenirs of famous cities or the expensive shopping in Paris). The garage sale of sorts paralleled in our minds the street fair sale we attended with the Burnetts on our last day in Paris.

I haggled a bit with two interesting Dutch gentlemen for an old painting of a naval battle, and then found two great sheets of drape material in their stash as well for only a euro each. Laura made as best of communication as she could with another merchant who couldn’t seem to understand why she was looking for great pieces like the fishing basket she bought from him instead of his silly pieces of jewelry. There were so many additional items we surely would have brought home if we could have schemed a way to get them across an ocean and a continent. Laura’s fishing box is really something, reminding me of my grandfather with its large wicker basket for caught fish, two compartments for lures, and a padded top for sitting on. I found the drapes I bought to be perfect for padding in the extra roller bag I’d purchased in Barcelona expecting to need something extra in order to bring all our treasures home. Interestingly enough, we’ve been able to make it work, stuffing everything into some pocket of the suitcases we’ll take home. That also includes all the items we found in Roma and Paris, a paella pan, a red kerosene lantern, seashells from the beach, delicious chocolate to share with friends and family at home, and a blanket from one of the overnight trains we rode.

The last stretches of road we’ve driven north on were also quite exciting. After making sure everything was properly packed, we had that weight off our minds and enjoyed the hilly, windy road back north through the region near Altea that had been dark as we passed through it driving south. It was one of my funnest driving experiences ever as we drove up and down through curve after curve, seeing the many terraced orchards and white stucco buildings all while enjoying Devotchka on the stereo. In one town we slowed down, turned down the music, and rolled down the windows as we heard the church bells ringing through the narrow streets as we passed.

We made time for one last jaunt into the Mediterranean somewhere close to the southern part of Barcelona, one last swim in the aqua water before arriving in Barcelona for our last night before flying back to the States.

When we arrived in Valencia it was dark and it took us several attempts through narrow alleys and crowded streets to find a parking space. One of the downfalls to driving in European cities. After securing a place for the car to stay, we mapped out the route to the hostel and started walking. A few blocks into the walk we looked up and in front of us stood a towering stone structure that looked like a piece of a castle. The tower looked like every drawing I have ever seen of castles in fairytales. In the moonlight I was transported to a different time and stood mesmerized for several minutes. After walking through the castle gate we entered the old town of Valencia, an area I found to be the most similar to my aesthetic out of any other city we had visited. It was clean, quaint, and embodied the old world charm that I dreamed of capturing in my photographs. The hostel we were staying at proved to be quite amazing as well, situated on the second floor of an old Valencian building with floor to ceiling windows that opened to the street. We spent the rest of the evening together writing, reading, editing photos, and enjoying the time and place where we were.

In the morning, we set out to explore the city of Valencia. I was immediately captivated by the vibe of this city. We stopped at a small café for brunch that had the feeling of an artist’s space. There was handmade jewelry for sale on the counter, a few locals discussing fashion and sipping espresso, and a large white dog lounging in the middle of the floor. We ordered our usual café con leche and baguette with proscuito and queso. From there we wandered the streets some more, stopped at a wine store where we were enthusiatically greeted by the owner and given several samples of wine. We bought a bottle for our walk through the city and continued to explore.

Amos:

Valencia has definitely been one of our favorite moments of this trip. Not only did it feel smaller, older, simpler, cleaner, and quainter, but it presented us with the first definitive vehicular challenge of the trip. Renting a car, we didn’t hesitate to acquire a gps as well which easily took us through the city center. Not only is driving through the narrow streets a novel and stressful experience (following where the gps demands we go) but finding a parking space among all this was nearly impossible. This challenge seemed to provide us with some triumph, and the rest of the single day we spent there was among pleasant weather and a easy scenic walk through the old district of town.

Valencia is such an old city that its maps have concentric circles drawn where former city boundaries and walls once stood, or now partially stand. In the morning I wandered up the foyer stairs in the building who’s second floor was occupied by our hostel. The banisters and tiling remind me of those European cities you somehow imagine exist in some form of style but feel completely surreal in actually seeing them. The same feeling exists in walking through the thin streets over cobblestones below and shuttered windows above with laundry hung out to dry.

In the Plaza Mayor we came upon a somewhat touristy street market but still enjoyed the styles and the bits and pieces of authentic Spain that we found.

The visual presence of Spain is overwhelming. Since Amos and I wanted to see more of the countryside, we decided to rent a car and spend a few days driving down the coast. The plan was to see how far south we could get before having to return to Barcelona for our flight home. This was the best decision we have made on this trip. However, it has left me wishing we had more time to explore this country and all its unique cities.  Spent the morning on trains to get to the airport where we picked up our car. By the time we finally had our car, it was mid-afternoon and we were ready to be on the road. Our first stop is Valencia, though we took several detours before getting here. Having the freedom to stop when and where we wanted was so amazing, especially because we both like to explore more off the beaten path. Amos kept surprising me by turning off onto side roads and random exits. We stopped at a Supermarcado and bought groceries for a picnic and ended up on the beach. This was one of my favorite moments of the trip. An hour or two at the Mediterranean, eating sandwiches in the sand, watching ships sail by, drinking wine, and swimming in the turquoise water. We drove the rest of the way to Valencia with the windows down, enjoying the beautiful Spanish sunset.

Amos:

Renting car to drive south, we set out from Barcelona on Thursday afternoon. We were told in Barcelona that every part of Spain we’d likely want to see would be represented by staying in the city, but our instincts and a bit of a desire to for a more relaxed couple of days driving though the country caused us to venture forth.

We really didn’t make it very far before finding multiple excuses to stop and shoot pictures. Of course the drive itself has been somewhat surreal. Most road signs are easy to understand but I think there are a few whose meaning will remain a mystery. The car we rented was a zippy little Citroen C4 with a manual transmission (which means I’ll be the only one driving). It’s big enough that the front seats will lay back enough to snooze if we decide to catch some sleep one of these nights without staying at a hostel.

Our first day’s goal in driving south was to make it to Valencia where we’d reserved a hostel in the old town. We were sure it would be an amazing place and we were right. After a few photographic stops, sandwiches and wine on the beach, and a quick lesson in finding a parking place in European cities, we made it through the narrow alleys and busy night streets of Valencia to our hostel. Unfortunately we didn’t feel like venturing out to find food so we finished off the fruit, wine, sprouts from the earlier sandwiches, and baguettes that we still had with us before doing some photo editing and going to bed. The next day’s plan was to explore Valencia and then continue south.

Some of the random people and conversations we’ve found on this trip have really been amazing. Not only was our pre-arranged meetings like that with the Burnetts great, but we’ve come across people in the midst of their unique or coincidental lives and we’ve enjoyed so much the interactions we’ve shared, made so much more beautiful by the known fact that soon we’ll go home and life will be back to normal.

Pauline, on the train from Rome to Paris, had intriguing stories and recommendations about Paris as a person who’d lived there and didn’t like it. The Burnetts are Americans living an inspiring life outside of much of what I’m use to seeing day to day at home.

Laura and I spent much of our time the last day in Paris finalizing some gifts and taking some photos with Craig and Lora and thought we might miss the train by the time we finally got to Paris Austerlitz station. On the train to Barcelona it just so happened that two fellows in the compartment next to mine are from Nashville. Tennessee born and raised, a couple pre-med graduates seeing the world before committing to med school. Thankfully we got to share quite a bit of conversation and even game of scrabble with Austin and Andrew during the overnight train ride. It was definitely a good bit of luck because the end of our Paris time had been a bit stressful and it was comforting to share time with more Americans, some who even live in a city we’re so familiar with. Sharing stories and the details we’ve learned about how to get around on the trains or metros or other systems is really great when you come across people to share with. Normally staying in hostels puts you in contact with quite a few who are also traveling, but of course we hadn’t stayed in a hostel throughout all our time in France.

Then we finally arrived in Barcelona and as Laura mentioned, I think Santi has been by far one of our favorite things about the city. I’ve never seen anything like the atmosphere at the Garden Hostel. Typically the the paella + sangría meal they offer at that hostel (for 7€) is suppose to only take place if six people sign up for it, and though it was only Laura and I signed up, Santi still made his phenomenal dish and a pitcher of sangría just for us.

Unfortunately we couldn’t stay a third night at the Garden Hostel (now affectionately referred to as Santi’s Place). We did book one final night there before we fly home since it was several days out and they still had open dorm rooms. That will be the the day we get back from our road trip.

Meanwhile, we also met up with Bryan Decán, a friend of some friends, (who also knows my cousins in Oklahoma, it turns out) who I’d met once before when he visited Portland. Bryan is an Austin, Texas guy who is now studying Spanish and living in Barcelona. He’s been here four months and has accrued a great amount of knowledge about the city and culture, all of which he loved to share. Exploring the city with Bryan, we stopped by Sagrada Familia, we found the shoes Laura’s feet desperately needed (a pair of El Gansos and some leather sandals), some delicious tapas, and quite honestly the absolutely most amazing bar I’ve ever seen in my life, deep in the Gotíc district of Barcelona. Words, photos, memories cannot explain the incredible aesthetic of Bar Marsella. We were all three speechless, its a place worth traveling to Barcelona just in itself.

Before leaving Barcelona we didn’t make quite as complete of a round of monument/museum sight-seeing as we had in Paris. Part of that was due to our less organized plans and the afternoon chocolates, tea, tapas, and wine offered at the hostel. Before leaving for this trip, Ryan Sharp warned me that “that Spanish siesta thing is legit” and he was right. Unfortunately for a couple days by the time I was able to catch up on sleep, writing, and the trip planning, it was around 2 or 3 pm, which is siesta time. There’s a very distinct deadness to many of the streets and shops during the late afternoon but the city certainly comes alive after dark. We were also in the city immediately following what I understood to be some major victories by the Barcelona fútbol team, which, in celebration by the fans in the streets, provided us with some additional novelty and entertainment.

I’m not exactly known to be a shopper but I’ve particularly enjoyed Barcelona because in our short times in the streets I’ve been able to find some items I’m very excited about (to add to the typewriter and other antiques and the brown plaid blanket we kept from the overnight train from Rome to Paris). In Barcelona, a few of the things I found were a Spanish Bible from 1859 in the most amazing little bookstore complete with an old Spanish shopkeeper and a cat, a beautiful pair of leather shoes made in Spain, an assortment of fine cigars (whose origin I won’t mention here) and Dutch pipe tobacco, and, after stumbling into a huge photography gear store on La Rambla, a 1965 Zeiss Icon Contraflex Super B 35mm. The Zeiss is a beautiful machine and I’ve already begun its inaugural roll of film here in España. I think it will make the perfect companion for my Hasselblad 500 c/m which has lately been increasingly lonely for another European camera in my camera bag.

Speaking of the film cameras, we’ve made it through most of the 120mm rolls purchased before this trip but the 35mm is holding out better. I was predicting for a few days in Paris that I’d be out of 120 far too soon, but all attempts to acquire additional rolls of Kodak Portra 400NC have been thwarted. First by holiday closings (ProPhot in Paris) and then by empty shelves (the mega store in Barcelona). I managed to find some rolls of Fujicolor 120 but would prefer to never use them and they’ll serve as last resorts for the rest of this trip.

Onward to Valencia..

We have been in Spain for two days now and it is amazing! Arrived in the morning by train from Paris to a quiet station. Not sure what to expect, we began our search for a hostel. I had researched a few places and wanted to try to find one of those before we settled. This required a map and a new understanding of the subway system which seemed more confusing than Paris’s. Thankfully, Amos has a quick understanding of directions and we arrived at a quaint Garden Hostel within an hour. It was located in a quieter section of the city and I like it immediately. We stayed in a 6 bed dorm room, always a unique experience. (Amos: The first night our room was shared with some Canadians from Nova Scotia who were on their way out early in the morning, bound eventually for London and hoping the volcano gods would allow them to do so, and the second night was shared with three fellows from Finland who spoke only a little English and didn’t seem to mind that there was a girl in the room when putting on pants in the morning.)

Having no plans, we spread the maps out again and began to take a closer look at this sicty of Barcelona. A few minutes later we met Santi, the hostel gourmet chef. (Not his official title) He introduced himself and told us about places of interest in the city. We also learned that he was living at the hostel in exchange for some services including providing the hostel with an assortment of treats for guests throughout the day. Santi is a self-described nutritionist and chocolate chef. His treats included 1 pintxo + 1 cup of wine or 3 raw chocolates + 1 cup of tea for one euro. I immediately thought of my sister Jill and how much she would love this hostel and its ammenities. Santi also informed us that he taught guests free chocolate making classes and would cook us a meal of paella (the traditional Spanish dish) + sangria for 7 euros.

Our time in Paris seems to be marked by one thing in particular, the search for shoes. Neither of us are too happy with the shoes we brought (only one pair each) and it would be nice to upgrade shoes to save our feet closer to the beginning of this trip rather than the end.

Ok, so that was the thought. By now, we’re half way through the trip, on a train to Barcelona still having found no shoes. We kept a eye out for shoe stores during our exploration of Paris (the French word for shoes is chaussures, which we pronounced in a very American way every time we saw a shoe store) and eve made a few trips specifically for shoes but without luck.

I think both of us would enjoy having a pair of shoes bought in Europe. As for me, my feet don’t hurt that bad anymore and I’d prefer a pair of Spanish shoes over French shoes if they are yet to be found.

A lazy Sunday morning in Paris. Sitting on a balcony with the Eiffel Tower in view, sipping a strong cup of Craig’s coffee, eating a baguette with Nutella and reflecting on the past three days. Paris has been a whirlwind of sights and sounds. Some highlights include: our wonderful accommodations at Craig and Lora Burnett’s flat, their chihuahua, Twig, waking up every morning with a view of the Eiffel Tower, expensive cappuccinos at street cafes with Amos (all the chairs face the street for people watching), shopping for shoes, exploring the streets with a baguette in hand, and sharing all this with Amos. He has been teaching me a lot about photography, a little more each day. I feel so lucky to be able to watch him as he captures the epic scenes of these cities with his Hasselblad and Canon AE-1, cameras that mesmerize me with their beauty. Traveling with such a talented artist is quite amazing.

A quick recap of yesterday, my favorite day in Paris. We were planning on catching a train to Seville, Spain but booked a train too late. Tickets were purchased for a Sunday evening train to Barcelona instead, and we had another two days to spend in Paris. This happened to be the best day yet for me, as we were able to see a more quaint and artistic part of the city. A morning market meal of Nutella and banana crepes and a metro ride to a street filled with antiques. The Burnetts spent the day with us and it was wonderful to share conversation and coffee with them as we discovered treasures together. There were several vendors with items that reflected an aesthetic that both Amos and I share. I love to find these items with him because his eye is attuned to the unique and vintage. He found a French typewriter and we debated for about twenty minutes as to whether we could actually put it in our luggage. Of course the answer was yes, and Amos has yet another typewriter to add to his growing collection. For me, the prized item was a worn leather wallet, found by Amos and desired by me to compete my year-long search for a worthy wallet. The rest of the day was spent in the many amazing shops that sold separate items in each: bread, cheese, meat, fruit, flowers, fish. I adored this way of shopping, stopping in each small store to buy a piece of the meal. I purchased to best brie I have ever tasted and it made the rest of the afternoon euphoric. Amos and I also stopped at a unique sushi restaurant with beautifully photographed menus, something we would like to see more of in America.

Back to the present moment: Amos is sitting across from me writing and Twig is on his lap in the sun. We will set out for Spain in this evening.

Spent the second day in Paris wandering a bit, seeing some famous places, shooting several rolls of film. Montmartre was one of the first places we visited. It was actually super touristy. We were particularly intrigued that day by the nature of street performances, both of the performance and spectators, and then in a perfectly meta-moment, admitted to each other our own often intrigue.

From Montmartre we walked down the butte through the much more ritzy shopping district around the opera house. We even walked through the obelisk’ed courtyard of the Ritz Paris on our way to the Louvre, which we didn’t actually visit or tour. Due to limited time and our desire not to spend the rest of the day on our feet we instead got sandwiches and a coke at the only food cart in the entire Louvre courtyard (which is quite massive). I can’t remember the particular type for the types of sandwiches, but mine was tuna of some sort and Laura’s had brie and lettuce. The end of the day took us also through a greek district and through the Cathedral of Notre Dame before heading back to the flat at nightfall.

The third day in Paris we visited the Cimetiere Pera Lachaise (Paris Cemetery) to see the ancient gravestones and mausoleums. I remember Michal telling me the cemetery is a must visit, especially because Jim Morrison is buried there. It wasn’t hard at all to find his grave when we got there, we simply found where the large crowd was standing, slightly resembling an onlooking crowd at a red carpet event. It began raining at midday (it had been overcast and cold since we arrived in Paris) and the rest of the day, which consisted mostly of searching for shoes (unsuccessfully) was slightly uncomfortable. That night Craig had found us some live music to attend, a small close-quartered jazz bar where we found an American jazz singer who had skills but was not as impressive as my roommate MIchal, who will be happy to hear this). This jazz singer in Paris did, however, have an accompaniment on the lute and an occasional wooden flute.

Craig and Lora Burnett‘s flat is in the 15th arrondissement of Paris on the 6th floor of a classic 7 story Parisian which Craig informs me comes from the approximate era of the 1850′s. About the time Napoleon III decided to knock down one of the lower-income neighborhoods in order to build up housing with a more consistent appearance. The 6th floor flats in these buildings have balconies that wrap around and connect separate doors while most other flats have small individual balconies at best.

Our immediate notion on arriving in Paris was that it was so much easier than Rome. Our second notion was that Paris is much more expensive than Rome. A cappuccino in Rome at a small shop may cost €1,50, and in Paris it is more like €4.

We were rushed onto a metro right away when the train from Rome arrived by our new friend who we shared a cabin with, Pauline. Pauline lives in Orleans but drew some recommendations on our map of Paris and felt it was necessary to get us on the subway as quickly as possible.

We exited the metro at Dupliex Station well after Pauline got off at her stop and our fist order of business was finding Craig and Lora at Rue de Alençon. That was actually quite easy and at their house we also met Twig, their nine year old chihuahua with only one tooth. Twig and I were instant friends.

Laura and I spent the first afternoon in Paris on a walk in the general direction of the Seine looking for shoes to buy and other general novelties. Paris is much more shopping-oriented and the style of buildings seemed almost monotonous even on the first day. We did come upon several monuments and cathedrals and spent an hour or two in a small café where we had what will surely be the first of many Nutella crépes.

Craig and Lora offered to make us dinner that evening so we soon made our way back to their flat. Laura was instantly in love with the salad and baguette slices with chevre that Craig had prepared and is now compiling a list of meals we’ve had in Europe to recreate and share with friends when we get back home. We may or may not have had three bottles of wine between the four of us, depending on who you ask, and I was quite content when finally going to bed.

I woke up this morning looking out the train window at the French countryside. Hedgerows and rolling hills covered in vibrant green grasses. Small towns nestled between or on tops of hills, occasional squared fields of intense yellow flowers.

We just now pulled into Dijon and are stopped at a station. The town’s gothic cathedral and ancient houses loom on the hillside. A brick wall embankment against the train station looks 300 years old and holds a sign that says “Dijon-ville” and is rusted with its age.

I told Laura yesterday evening that the last two days of exploring Rome, having no cell phones or internet, the styles of the Roman shops and coffeebars, and travelling by train makes me feel as though it were 1935. The aesthetic of Dijón only reinforces this feeling.

Laura:

Awoke on the top bunk of a sleeping car on a train to Paris. Peered out from under a plaid wool blanket to see green countryside dotted with old french farms, churches and clusters of cows. What a wonderful start to the day! Cherries, cappuccinos, and croissants for breakfast. A quick recap of a day spent in Rome. We arrived on Sunday, May 10 at 10am. The airport was calm as we walked through the terminal and anticipated the next 24 hours. Passports stamped, money transferred, train tickets to Roma Termini, arrived at the train station and began our search for a hostel. This is the point where we should have immediately stowed our luggage because walking through the streets of Rome with even our small bags proved quite difficult. Many stairs, cobblestones, and crazy traffic left us tired and frustrated. We finally located an internet cafe and looked up some hostels. The majority were booked, but we found one possibility and proceeded to make it our mission to locate it. Another metro train to Termini, luggage stored, our first meal of the day at 5pm: cappuccinos and proscuito with brie on a baguette. We sat in silence. I will admit to feeling overwhelmed and tired already, wishing we had booked a hostel in advance, bought better shoes, and packed only backpacks. We walked out of the station and into the rain, realizing I left my raincoat in the luggage locker. Thankfully the hostel was close, had a room with six beds for 17 euro each, and a rooftop garden with fig and lemon trees.

I fell asleep almost immediately; awoke to darkness and loud laughter on the street below coming though our open window. Even though we felt disoriented from the days events, we shook off the jet lag the best we could and walked into the Roma evening. Already late, many places were closed but we found a small wine bar across the street from our hostel. A bottle of vino and a pizza proved to be the perfect meal and a remedy to restore my spirit. Amos and I shared a cigarette and struck up a conversation with the gentleman across from us when Amos offered his photographic skills to take a group photo. Our first acquaintance with another traveler; Adam from Toronto was traveling through Italy for three weeks. He shared some highlights of the city with us, as well as an excitement about photography. We ended the evening with a stroll through our section of the city, back to our room to meet three travelers from Spain, finish a bottle of wine while playing sudoku in bed. In that moment, I felt quite content.

Amos:

Day two in Roma before we left for Paris was a flurry. We saw so much, it seems to blend together in one magnificent mound of ancient history, classic Italian shops, and the rhythmic Italian language that was all around us. We saw many more monuments and ruins than we can name or could name by seeing them. Colosseo, Pantheon, Isola, Tiberina, the oldest Jewish district in Europe, Area Sacra, Monumento a Vittorio Emanuele II, Palatino, and everything in between. We successfully walked two unintentional circles, since the Roman streets are a bit hard to navigate, especially when in a rush to see a few things before catching a 6pm train. Looking back we thought it would have been great to spend an additional day and put Paris off for another, but perhaps we’ll just save more Roma for the next trip to Europe.

I don’t know if anyone even likes the movie Marley ad Me. Except our moms. I guess the people on this plane are on average more mom-ish than we. They were showing this movie on a long flight I was on over a year ago. Aren’t they exhausted yet?

We’re flying north over Greenland, Iceland, and Sweden. It seems we’re so far north and we’re so close to Summer Solstice that the skyline is a perpetual sunset. At least the colors have remained for the duration of this trip.

Can’t tell what time it is. Middle of the night ish. We’ll arrive in Rome at about 9am but that means something more like 2am in Central time. Obviously we have no phones and neither of us wear a watch. Thats another thing to acquire on arrival: a watch.

Laura is reading a book our friends lent us about two people who, in 1982, drove a VW van from Paris to Marseilles stopping for a night at every other rest stop they came to and wrote a book about the trip afterwards. She often informs me that she’s getting a VW van. I believe her.

For this trip, I’ve started reading Gibran’s A Tear and a Smile. So far so brilliant.

30 minutes later…

We just caught glimpses of the mountains peaking out from the cloud cover over Greenland. My Goodness…

Our first flight en route to Europe has left us in Chicago, waiting on the first available flight. We missed the last flight to London, our first destination by half an hour. The flight from Nashville was delayed. Boo. The airline put us in a hotel and put us on the next flight out. But this morning Laura woke repeatedly to messages telling her the flight was canceled and then naming the next flight we were assigned to.

We talked to the most helpful airline lady I’ve ever met about what flight they could put us on to Europe whether it be London or something else. We don’t care by now to make it to London because by now, we’ve already missed everything we wanted to do there. My friend Harry can’t come to the city during the week and Laura’s friend’s private concert is probably ending about right now.

So we asked Kimberly behind the desk at American Airlines what other cities they fly to where the flights are not already full. She promptly booked us on the next plane to Rome. We promised to send a postcard to Kimberly at the American Airlines desk.

So, Rome.

Actually Rome is about the same distance to Marseilles as Paris, which would have been the next stop by the time we get there on Monday morning. Pairs? Maybe. Might depend on whether we can figure out the trains. We did figure out enough of the trains and free transit in Chicago to get us to a nook of a coffee shop in Wicker Park. Much better than the sterile hotel conditions.

Tonight: Meet up with Jill Dart & Friends and see Andrew Belle play with someone who’s name we can’t remember.

Tomorrow: Get on a plane at 4pm bound for Rome.

Best way to start atrip: Start in a city you didn’t intend to go to.

Laura:

The eve before our trip begins, I sit amidst a plethora of memories already made. Two weeks ago, tickets were purchased for an adventure comprised of desires. A time of transition left room for collaboration and companionship to be free. This meant little preparation in destinations and passports to be stamped with surprises. A flurry of days spent completing projects before we embarked on this adventure. Amos arrived on Wednesday to a flooded Nashville. My photoshoot was cancelled so we spent the day preparing by purchasing film, buying raincoats and trying on every style of travel shoe. We were packing light which meant little clothing: 2 pairs of pants, 2 shirts, 1 sweater, 1 pair of shoes and 5 cameras. While I was excited to be limited in my possessions as I traveled, I found it harder than I thought to finalize these items. Shoes were the most difficult to find. We finally decided on a pair of gray and green canvas sneakers. I added leather laces to mine and Amos went laceless. ( Two days of wear around O’ Hare airport and we will be looking for more durable and comfortable shoes when we reach Rome) Thinking we would be spending the first part of our trip in rainy London, we also purchased expensive but durable raincoats. These have already come in handy while waiting outside for the shuttle, to shield against the vicious Chicago May wind.

The hours before we left were spent making final decisions, packing and taking a limited polaroid together in the grass by my front door. And then we were off! Only to arrive two hours early and find out that our flight to Chicago had been delayed due to weather. This meant, it was more than likely we would miss our connection to London. We arrived in Chicago twenty minutes after our flight left, walked to the gate for vouchers (hotel/food), and then to the shuttles for another hour wait. A lot of waiting, on/off, up/down, to the hotel, a beautiful room, a view. Sleep was interrupted twice, by calls from the airline with more cancelled flights. Spent the morning trying to figure out when we were actually leaving London. Two o’clock came and we shuttled to the airport once again, more lines, all flights cancelled to London due to volcano ash. So, we asked Kimberly to put us on the flight of the day. All flights overbooked, first one out tomorrow afternoon with seats: Dublin or Rome. We chose Rome! Excited to explore this city six years later with Amos. Sure to be a beautiful experience. One more night in Chicago, but first we must spend these food vouchers. I sent Amos through airport security to find food. He returned an hour later with our airport beverage of choice, an iced venti chai and burritos. So happy to be here with him.

Updated Itinerary:

May 8th: Chicago.
May 9th: Fly to Rome.
May 10th: Train to Paris.
May 15th: Train or car to Spain (Barcelona or Sevilla).
May 15th: Somehow get to Spain and spend the rest of the trip exploring the Mediterranean coast. Barcelona. Valencia. Seville? Gibraltar/Morocco?
May 24th: Fly back to the US, arrive in Oklahoma City to visit my sister and her husband.
May 27th: Drive to Stapleton, Nebraska to spend two days with my parents. (Including the classic ranch event, the branding)
May 30th: Fly home to Portland.
June 1st: Start a new job.

Some history:

I’ve recently been offered a new job, which in accepting, has provided me with enough free time in between to travel. I haven’t had this much time off all at once (a whole month) since I moved to Oregon over two years ago. So one night I call Laura on the telephone, and I say, “Lets take a trip.” She replies with an “Oh yes!” and we promptly begin planning.

What you may generally expect:

Since it benefits my idiom, I’ll try to be as free-form as possible, and Laura may play the sweet and well-composed companion who’s great goal in life is to laugh. This may or may not lead us to mention the things we do or do not end up doing as we travel and the thoughts we may or may not have. Either way, consider the following posts until the end of this trip to be just for our own fun, and as way to bring you with us. I think the first things I’ll talk about are the places we plan to go and the few things we’re bringing with us. There will likely be more cameras on this trip than shoes, maps, or pairs of pants.

The plan so far:

May 5th: Fly to Nashville (To see Becca and pick up Laura)
May 7th: Fly to London.
May 10th: Train to Paris.
May 14th: Train or car to Marseilles.
May 15th: Somehow get to Spain and spend the rest of the trip exploring the Mediterranean coast. Barcelona. Valencia. Seville? Gibraltar/Morocco?
May 24th: Fly back to the US, arrive in Oklahoma City to visit my sister and her husband.
May 27th: Drive to Stapleton, Nebraska to spend two days with my parents. (Including the classic ranch event, the branding)
May 30th: Fly home to Portland.
June 1st: Start a new job.

concerned with lies and truth, with
mind and soul, or which side of

the bed they rose from. If you
are still struggling to understand,

you are not there. You offer your
soul to one who says, “Take it to

the other side.” You’re on neither
side, yet those who love you see

you on one side or the other. You
say Illa, “only God;” then your

hungry eyes see you’re in “nothing,”
La. You’re an artist who paints

both with existence and non. Shams
could help you see who you are, but

remember, You are not your eyes.

– You Are Not Your Eyes, Rumi