Spain? ...on second thought, maybe not

So, it has been a while since I last blogged. Sorry. Recently I finished up a two year contract working at a college, moved back home to Pittsburgh, and tried out for the History Channel's competitive marksman program, TOP SHOT. Needless to say, I didn't make the final cut.

All that B.S.aside, there have been some cool things happening lately. I had a great summer, most of which I spent with my fair maiden who is the prettiest in all the land. However, I got to do what few have achieved after graduating college:  Getting back a summer vacation. Don't get me wrong, teachers have a sweet gig, but few of those who aren't teachers ever get their summer vacation back...period.  Timing was nice I guess with my contract ending and having another job that pays well on the weekends. I worked on my ping pong skills, planted a garden, and polished my stand up act. How we all grow up to accept a life where there is maybe two or three weeks vacation during the whole year makes me want to hurl my lunch all over Wall Street's front steps.

How does all of this relate to SAguru and my love for travel or anything international? Well, a lot. Due to this down time, I had the opportunity to plan to try many different things. I am 24, but have not been locked down in any career type job yet. Now, one might say this can be a positive or maybe a negative. Negative because I'm missing out on the job security and good pay. Positive because I'm free to start fresh. My way of seeing it is a little bit of both. Knowing that this day of reckoning would come, like when Morpheus knew Neo would come to save the human race from the Matrix, I planned ahead.

Last spring, I applied to teach English in Spain for a year. At the time it seemed harmless. Who knew where I would be in a few months, Spain is a place I always wanted to go back to, and if I had no other job offers in this stinky economy it could be a decent option. However, when I found out I got it things played out a bit different. Not only did I get assigned to the south of Spain (nicest part in my opinion), I got assigned to the city of Cordoba, one the great cities of Andalucia. I couldn't have been happier with the placement, working 15 hours a week and enjoying the warm weather, food, and all the other staples of Southern Spain. But there was a beast lurking in the shadows unbeknown to me that wanted to pounce on my dream and rip it to shreds. This beast has been a threat to humans from all nations throughout history and is know by his most common name: bills. Yes, bills, or financial obligations if you will. The 700 Euros per month would not be enough to support me living in Spain along with paying my student loans and other obligations I have here back home.

So the moral of the story is as we get older it becomes harder and harder to escape the chains that imprison our wanderlust. For me, one of the things I cherish most is the ability to get up at a moments notice and set out on an adventure. That to me is true freedom. I understand that we all have to earn our keep and nothing that is worth something comes easy, but it still pains me to say goodbye to the olive rich and soul warming land that is Spain, due to a large monthly payment for my student loans. If I have any advice to give, it would be to minimize your debt (maybe you should check out community college, cmon it's not so bad) as a young person and save as much as you can. That way, when the world is knocking at your door, you don't have to pretend like you're not home.

The Luck of the Irish

Just to clarify, the post I have about Stirling, Scotland on March 9th is actually a personal entry from a written journal of mine that I kept over the holidays while I was in the United Kingdom. I am currently applying for an internship with STA Travel and needed to show my mean blogging skills. It is definitely one of my favorites so I wanted to include it.

Pretty sure he was running down East Carson St. 

Okay, moving on. This past weekend was like any other weekend, except for the fact that almost every young person in the city of Pittsburgh converged upon a single street for St. Patrick's Day festivities. By 2pm, East Carson street took on the literal meaning of local watering hole. The place was an absolute zoo.

For future reference, if you don't like obscene amounts of green and large crowds, avoid spending the day there at all costs. I arrived later at night around 8pm, so I was in the midst of the carnage. You know it is a crazy day when the amount of lone wanderers far exceeds the usual amount you see stumbling around on a typical Saturday night.

After a couple of my friends and I squeezed through the herd at one bar, we found a table. Don't ask me how, it just happened. After a few Alabama Slammers and a pint of green beer, we were as giddy as the Lucky Charms leprechaun. After dancing with some ladies and starting a limbo, we descended into the streets to find our way back home.

We threw down the full house with this move; taking a public bus back home. Now before you recount your horror stories from public buses, realize every now and then it can be great. We caught it around 2am and had the thing to ourselves. No parking fees, no crazy parking scenarios; Life doesn't get much better than that. I guess you can call it the luck of the Irish.

Star-Struck in Stirling

As much as I enjoy the idea of traveling with my friends, sometimes you just need to take a break from that and have some precious time alone. No, I’m not talking about locking yourself in a room for hours on end while lighting scented candles and listening to Boys II Men. I’m talking about doing some Ponce de Leon-type exploring, taking on a travel destination and flying solo the entire time. 

Two days ago I had my best companion-less journey in my twenty three years of life on this earth. As my friends from Germany and France were boarding a train to Glasgow, I was heading the opposite direction. Destination: Stirling.

The National Wallace Monument

Stirling, Scotland is unlike any other city I’ve seen. It seems inert and forgotten like it has secretly passed under the watchful eye of father time. I guess that’s why it has a gloomy medieval throw-you-in-a-dungeon-like feel to it. Why I would I choose to visit a place like this when I had the option to be in Glasgow partying with my best friends until 5:00am?

I’ll tell you why, because that day behind a wall of white fog stood the work of giants. It appeared to be the spear of a God sticking out of the Earth; the monument of William Wallace. To be brief, Wallace was one of Scotland’s greatest freedom fighters. Most historical figures never fill the shoes of their supposed legends, but standing well over 6ft tall (At a time when the average man was less than 5’ 8”) and wielding a sword bigger than me, Wallace came pretty darn close. Not only was he physically intimidating, he was a baller when it came to military tactics. Standing in the midst of his tower, I couldn’t help but feel powerful as if his ghost was looming above me.

After taking in a final view of the breathtaking Highlands, I scampered back down the hill towards town. Meanwhile, I started a podcast The Battle of Stirling Bridge narrated by Neil Oliver. In short, Neil Oliver is a Scottish historian and one of the best story tellers since Homer. I have to admit, I do have videos of myself trying to impersonate him at the fields of Bannockburn. It’s a fun accent so I couldn’t help myself. As I walked and listened, I realized there was nobody around me. It was two days after New Year’s Day and there were no tourists in sight. It was like a gift sent down from travel heaven. For a few moments I was standing on a hill between Stirling Bridge and the castle overlooking the battlefield. You couldn’t ask for a better view, and as Neil was finishing up his story of how Braveheart led the outnumbered Scots to victory over the English, I could hear the soldiers cheers in the distance, “Wallace!...Wallace!...Wallace!”

All this walking around called for a high dosage of Scottish cuisine A.S.A.P. I had read about a place called the Corn Exchange and was still looking for my chance to try the famous dish of Haggis. I walked into the place and was immediately impressed. They had a dance floor upstairs and a restaurant downstairs with bars on both floors. It definitely looked like a place where party seeking students tear it up every weekend. So, I ordered a shot of whiskey to warm up and asked the waiter for his Haggis bread bowl special. For those of you who don’t know what Haggis is, it’s a blend of sheep liver, heart and lung, simmered in stomach and mixed with oats among other spices. Now stop, before you go lose your lunch in the trash can, let me assure you that this national delight is one of the most savory dishes I have ever tasted. I didn’t just eat it, I inhaled it. Eating that along with peas and mashed potatoes had me feeling like I could charge the fields of Bannockburn brandishing my two-handed broadsword, hacking at anything, or anyone, that got in my way.

As the day drew to a close, the sun began to creep its way to the horizon and I knew it was time to head out of town. I smiled the whole way back to the station, content with my successful detour for the day, walking the stomping grounds of one of my favorite heroes, William Wallace. (Cue the closing theme music from the movie Braveheart, you know with the flute and bagpipes.)

Saturday Speed Touring

The next morning we got up at the rooster crow; around 10am. My roommate and I decided to seize the day and begin the morning with some peanut butter slapped on a piece of bread (Seriously what hotel doesn’t have continental breakfast? I thought that was like a law or something). After our extremely filling breakfast, we chugged some water and started on the jog. Now what happened next was definitely an epiphany sent from the Gods. How do you get to see some major sights, get your energy up, and save time all in one swing? Easy: A little invention of mine called Speed Touring. We ran from the White House, to the Washington Monument, then to a city water fountain to nurse a major cramp, to the World War II monument, and finally popped in to visit our favorite presidents; Honest Abe and TJ.

In the afternoon, we needed a stiff drink and dinner of epic tastiness to lift our spirits. Being an experienced traveler, I could smell the oncoming situation a mile away before we got there. The four of us needed a place to eat, but none of has had researched the area for a place that tickled our fancy. So like many times before, we set off like Arthur and his knights in search of the Holy Grail that would be the dining experience of the weekend. You know, the kind where you are willing to throw down a little extra money to enjoy a good meal and leave with your belt undone to a lower notch…or two.

After an hour of sifting through numerous restaurants that would make Donald Trump scoff and walking into one place that from outside looked promising but had cigar smoke that wafted in our faces after opening the door, our quest ended at Black Finn. Our oasis in a desert of fine dining restaurants. Black Finn is a great place to come in with a couple of your friends and immediately order a drink. It has the old American Saloon feel to it, a place the Duke would maybe stop in to quench his thirst. However, I myself went with the choco-lot-a-tini. What can I say, I have a sweet tooth. 

Now, the rest of the meal was like a dream. The appetizer was chips with spinach artichoke dip, with four guys at the table was gone in four minutes, seriously. Then the second appetizer of ribs, the meat fell right off the bone like it was never attached at all. All the while, the TVs were playing music videos from the 80’s, classics like Eddie Money and Phil Collins. I’m proud to say we even got Rick Roll’d http://yougotrickrolled.com/ .

I ordered the Lemon chicken as my entrée and it was well worth the meager $14. It was marinated in a white wine and capers, accompanied by some rice pilaf and spinach. Magnificence is the word.

Turn off the sausage

Looking at this title, you must be wondering what in the world could this blog be about, but don’t worry, I won’t make you wait long to find out. This past weekend I had the opportunity to travel to Washington, D.C., the city of gleaming marble steps and our nation’s proud capital. In the wee hours of the morning on Saturday night, I was laying in my bed with my oh so fluffy pillow in the Holiday Inn Central. It was a nice and an affordable option (only after a little Winters hardball haggling) that was conveniently located four blocks from the White House. As my roommate was sawing some logs, I was processing the events of the day and thinking about what still needed to be done in the morning. Taking a mixed group of 40 international and domestic students to a big city like D.C. is no easy task. I was halfway through my mental checklist for the next day when all of a sudden my roommate stirred and muttered something under his breath.

“Turn off the saus…hahm,” he said.

 Now at first I was startled, but I had to confirm that my friend had said one of the most ridiculous sleep talking remarks I have ever heard in my life.

So, in humoring my zombie-fied friend, I replied “What Steve?”

He perked up, turned over with eye lids half open and said right to my face, “TURN OFF THE SAUSAGE.”

After laughing for a good minute or so, I noticed Steve had returned to his deep slumber. As I laid there on the verge of passing out myself, I thought about the rigors of time management on short trips to big cities and how we became so tired that we were dreaming of the machine like properties of sausage. Okay, hit the rewind button on your old clunky VHS player and let’s go to the previous day.

Getting to D.C. from Pittsburgh is not a bad drive by any means. It is at most a 4 hour drive, maybe 5 if you stop to eat. However, add 4 school vans and one GPS to the picture, already you have quite the journey. As soon as we got to the hotel around 10pm, everyone ran up to their rooms, threw down their bags, and bolted out the front door to hit up the night life. Now I was there at least for another half hour filling out the paperwork and nursing an eye that was irritated from a torn contact. By the time I was finished, me and a couple of stragglers went out to a bar called Buffalo Billiards trying to salvage what was left of our Friday night. 

Now, if you are looking for one of the most chill bars in existence and getting in a couple games of pool at the same time, this is your place. With its single sum payment for an hour of pool, you save time by not having to change a dollar bill every time you want to play a new game or having to search for change under the vending machine. Don’t lie; I know you’ve done that before. Around 1pm I was back at the hotel passed out with my socks on like Dad on the first night of vacation after driving the family ten hours to the beach. Not Easy.