Kartoffelpuffer and Other Treats

I never thought I would make it past those Spain photos. Fast forward 6 months (I did nothing in that time span). I end up in New Braunfels, Texas, for the annual Wurstfest. I have no idea why I waited so long to visit a sausage and beer festival. This kind of thing should be a no-brainer, but this time logistics worked out (ie Kristen really wanted to go, and she's got family in town too).

Kristen's aunt and uncle were awesome hosts. Her buzzed uncle offered us beers upon arrival, and the family was a fun bunch to talk to. Her uncle David is also an Opa, meaning he is one of an elite group of community members, a secret order of freemasons, so to speak, that guard and maintain the traditions of The Wurst. During the entire festival, he wears the traditional Opa garb (lederhosen), while his wife wears hers (a dirndl), and they act as hosts to all us visitors.

The main Wurstehalle, from the view of the Opa balcony. Had some fun dancing here later that night.

Former Grand Opas (or whatever they're called) through the years.

A look outdoors

Much of Wurstfest is about the music. German music, of course. Lots of accordions. Also some horns and even a bell choir. This guy below was one of our favorites; he is a master yodeler.

Besides the food, beverages and music, there's some carnival games and rides as well. My favorite is the bear ride, an apparatus consisting of about 8 big bears being spun around in a big circle. If you look at the mural on the outside of the grounds, look for the bear - my friend Grant Warnecke is inside with his brother. He's grown a lot taller since.

There's a lot about this weekend that cannot be told in pictures. All the things I ate and didn't bother photographing. The constant phone calls from work and the 1 am conference call (4 months of drilling a well, and things don't get interesting until I'm trying to drink myself silly at a sausage fest). As Kristen will be in New Zealand next year, I'll have to find a new group next year; I hope you can come!

La Sagrada Família

I had such an amazing time exploring and taking photographs at one site, that I ran out of battery life for my camera and kept exploring until I was too hungry to stay any longer. I'm not hipster or off-the-beaten-track enough to have found some amazing little diamond in the rough. It's a cathedral, the thing that most visitors to Europe get tired of first (once you've seen a few, they all start look the same). Antonin Gaudi, just like Salvador Dali, has a special place in my heart, and has taken design to a ludicrously inventive, detail-oriented, and purposeful limit. I'll just the photos speak for themselves.

One of my (several) quirks is to photograph models. The tan are portions already built, the white is to come. Much more to go...

My camera met its earthly end (for the day) right after this

That's it for Spain! I should probably thank my wonderful employer for financing the trip, and the friends and coworkers I met along the way. And much thanks to Jessi - I'm hoping you can get some time off for some shenanigans next time.

Barca Barca Barca!

I really wanted to visit Seville during my trip to Spain. The one thing that drew me away was an opportunity to see a friend I haven't talked to since high school who is working in Barcelona. Also some people I know said it's a big deal or something, so what the heck. My favorite part of Barcelona was the Gothic Quarter. We headed straight there for a pleasant stroll after I arrived.

 

 

Took a detour from the Barri Gotic to check out the beach at Barceloneta.

Sweet street art

My dear friend Jessi was working 18-hour shifts or something like that during my stay. So though glad that she could show me around first, I was off on my own for the rest of the day and evening. 8 hours and 15,000 steps later (yes, I had a pedometer with me; long story), I found a few fine examples of Gaudi architecture. Here's one:

Casa Milá (or La Pedrera)

 I spent the evening, after touristy places closed, wandering around the center of town looking for photo opportunities and a place to eat. I happened to hang out in this plaza near a big church around twilight.

The second day of my stay, Jessi and I had some crazy adventures in Parque Güell. We sneaked into the back entrance using outdoor escalators, climbed the peak, frolicked in cacti in full summer bloom, found Jessi's dream home, hung out with a salamander, and rewarded ourselves with a big lunch in an eclectic residential neighborhood.

My last night in Spain, I made Jessi especially jealous by going to Parc Nou to watch a rally for FC Barcelona. I can safely say I'm a bigger fan than her now. Anyway, one more bonus post from Spain and a link to my full album coming up.

And on the Next Hill...

There's a ravine in Granada. I don't know much about it. I peered down from the Albayzin. The wide promenade and the river I saw below seemed nice, but like most other tourists (who were smart enough to book ahead of time), I was headed to the next hill.

On it was perched a palace built in the 1300s by the rulers of the Emirate of Granada called Alhambra. Suffice it to say, that a lot has changed since then.

Detailed inscriptions litter the walls

OMG it's Jeremy Lin!

Court of the Myrtles - the central courtyard

Hall of the Ambassadors

The Citadel - the lost GoldenEye level!

Charles V, the Holy Roman Emperor, had his own palace built in the middle of the complex, effectively giving the Moors the finger. He was nice enough to not knock down the rest, though.

By the way, I should mention that after hours of walking around the palace grounds, I got a snack and the coffee from the central square. That was the most satisfying coffee I've ever had in my life. I then walked over to the Generalife, which is actually a big garden, not a medical insurance corporation like the name evoked in my mind.

Wandering the Hills of the Albayzín

Granada is the least "European" town I've seen in Europe. My course director expressed a haughty disdain for this town; he suggested I visit the Alhambra and get out; it's just small town with a bunch hippies. That's what he said. What I heard, however, was "perfect for backpacking."

I booked a hostel in the Albayzín, the old Moorish quarter. It was right around the corner from a narrow North African market street. It was filled with the scent of incense and tea, the walkway made of mosaically-arranged stones, the shops filled with deep red and browns and the occasional bright hue, a mixture of rugs, fabric, and nicknacks. After resting from my long walk from the train station, I wandered around the Albayzin. Around every corner was an Old World corridor, a row of Moor-inspired houses, a centuries-old tree, brimming with sunlight and a history I could not fathom.

The market near my hostel.

An interesting aside. My hostel offered a "Street Art Walking Tour." I jumped on this, as though this town was really fun to wander, a free tour can't hurt either. There were maybe 3 pieces of street are the whole way, though. The main event was the hippie who lived in a cave. Yes - Granada is a hilly place. And there is an entire neighborhood, Sacromonte, of caves. This hippie, who I will call Don Juan for the purposes of this blog and my perception of his former sexual prowess, showed us around his multi-room cave. We ended in the deepest, darkest, room of the cave, where he led us in a Buddhist chant and moment of silence.

Our hippie friend Don Juan. The green tarp is his garage. For his Ferrari. No joke.

Street art imitating life