odysseyone

There's no chance of forgetting what Spain is famous for. On every major highway in this country, starring down at you is a larger-than-life metal bull silhouette, which is a good thing as the real life wild bulls are a whole lot harder to spot- we've seen just one during our mad dash across the country. But I think Spain has overlooked what it is truly memorable for, whether you actually want the memories or not- budgie smugglers and boobs. I love a day at the beach as much as the next person but the Spanish seem to love it so much it makes them want to tear their clothing off - and often their bikini tops as well - and embrace the warmth and sunshine. The middle aged men often seem to be in an urgent rush to get their kit off first thing in the morning and we often had to try and digest our corn flakes with overweight men sauntering past in their budgie smugglers with bronzed beer guts hanging over the top, long before the sun had heated the place up.

The Spanish are a lot more laid back than other Europeans we have met, to the point where you almost have to shake them to get any response. Spain reminds me a lot of home with the hot weather, Mediterranean beaches and a whole lot of countryside that looks like a desert, except people actually live there. It's the second most mountainous country after Switzerland and we've enjoyed getting away from the cities and walking in the mountains. We have avoided cities because it's difficult driving on the right side of the road and hard to navigate without a decent map. We have basically skirted around the cities and checked out what the countryside has to offer. We are currently on the Spanish side of the Pyrenees, which is such a beautiful place that a photo really doesn't do it justice. There are lots of alpine lakes surrounded by mountains and pine forest with a little snow left over. Its been my favourite place to hike in Spain. We visited Sierra Nevada National Park last week, where we climbed the second highest mountain in Spain, Veleta, which is 3396 metres asl. After going up that high I've discovered my limit and don't think I'll be going above 3000 metres again. It was mostly straight up over scree fields and snow and I was suffering from the altitude and thin air and heaving for most of it like an Olympic athlete who's just completed a race. I'm ashamed to say Justin had to drag me up the final few metres. He let me go for the very last stretch so I could feel the glory. The view was amazing as we were above the clouds and haze and higher than the surrounding snow-covered mountains. Coming down was a little more dangerous as we got clouded in and had to walk through - or in my case fall down - a lot of snow to get back down.

Our driving trip around Spain has included a lightening fast trip into Portugal. We only had time for Lisbon, which I loved, but would have liked to take it easy there a bit longer like the Portuguese do. To speed things up we managed to use all their public transport in one day including buses, ferries, trains, metro, elevator trams and one very cool tram ride down through the narrow streets of an old Muslim quarter. We also had a brush with fame when we saw Slash from former Guns N Roses fame unpacking his luggage at the back of a concert venue. The only trouble was we had no idea who it was! I used my powers of deduction to figure it out, which wasn't too hard as all the teenagers going crazy with cameras had Guns N Roses t-shirts on. The only annoyance with visiting Lisbon was the pickpockets. We never saw any in operation but started to get a little paranoid after we received repeated warnings about keeping an eye on our wallets. Pretty much the only signs in English in the city were ones telling you to be wary about pickpockets. We were also warned about travelling on the trams at the tourism office and when we were walking down a street, a local called out to us in English and told us to be careful. It got a little intense and we probably ended up looking suspicious, as I starred down anyone who got too close to Justin's backpack and we reversed ourselves up against walls while scanning the crowds when looking at our map.

We've been fairly unimpressed by the food available in Spain and Portugal and think it might date back to their days as former dictatorships. Outside of the major centres, we have had a lot of trouble finding fruit and vegetables, let alone anything fresh. One particular example is in a small convenience store (convenient really isn't the right word as everything shuts down for hours every day for siesta) in the Pyrenees. The fresh produce was so old it had morphed into something else and there was capsicum that had been sitting there so long it had pretty much turned itself into antipasto without any cooking required.

Since we are in the heartland of the beautiful game, we thought it would be a great opportunity to get involved in the World Cup and watch a few matches. With the exception of one rowdy game at a pub in Switzerland, the Europeans have really let us down with the atmosphere we had been expecting during the World Cup. We were so keen to share in the passion of football we even risked our health watching the Australia versus Ghana match at a pub in a tiny village in Spain. The smell hit us before we saw the rubbish piled up on the floor of the bar- it was like walking through the door and straight into a third world country. The only customer was a homeless guy eating something that didn't resemble human food. The floor was covered in cigarette ash and butts, used tooth picks and serviettes, food scraps and rotten prawn shells. We had no idea if this was normal so we tried to play it cool but I was secretly worried about my lack of appropriate footwear and if I could pick up some disease from walking on rubbish in my thongs. We managed to sit through the first half, chocking on the stench of cigarettes and rotten seafood. We were a little too enthusiastic when Australia scored the opening goal and realised we were in hostile territory when the few people who had come to watch the match lit celebratory cigars when Ghana equalised. After Harry Kewell was sent off, we justified leaving at half time by telling ourselves Australia would probably lose anyway (which they didn't). We have since discovered rubbish and cigarette butts on the floors of bars is common place - we even saw it in a brand new café - and we're hoping someone will one day explain this bizarre behaviour.

The only match we watched where there was anything resembling a crowd was at a bar in Zermatt, Switzerland. We weren't sure if the Swiss would support the underdog Australians or the Germans; it didn't take too long to find out. After Germany's third goal we left the bar very humiliated and a bit afraid people might work out there was an enemy in their midst.

The only thing Switzerland seems to have in common with Spain is the mountains, which are spectacular. We caught a train through the Swiss Alps to the ski village Zermatt, which will probably be the most beautiful (and most expensive) train ride of my life. We had a view of the Matterhorn (Switzerland's highest mountain) out of our room and only once, for just a few moments, the very top of it peaked through and we were able to enjoy it from our veranda. We also saw the top of it for a few seconds when we reached Gornegrat, the highest train station in Europe at 3100m. We also had views of the highest mountain in Italy and many other big mountains as well as half a dozen glaciers, all covered in snow. We left pretty soon after when Justin noticed my hair standing on end and heard static noise from the metal railings. Because it was cloudy we couldn't see the lightening strikes but weren't hanging around for them!

We got to catch up with a friend from home who was studying in YWAM Switzerland for a few months. Jase took us on the cheapest tour of Lake Geneva possible on a very old, small wooden dinghy. And what food is served on a private charter on Lake Geneva? More pork sausages and baguettes with beer of course. Jase's friend played chef while we were sailing across the lake and managed to fry up sausages on a two burner stove in the middle of the leaky boat, while we sat a little gingerly between the gas and the petrol tank and hoped the two didn't meet. We sailed to a little village on the French side of the lake, did a short reconnaissance (it isn't very big), discovered we couldn't afford to eat there and since there is nothing else to do, bought some beer travellers for the return ride and enjoyed sailing back across the lake at dusk.

Justin celebrated his birthday in Switzerland and we took another expensive train ride to Lausanne for the day. Jase had the evening festivities covered and organised a bonfire in an empty block of land overlooking Lake Geneva. The YWAM guys charcoaled chicken on the fire and we enjoyed lukewarm beers and Pearl Jam through the ipod with our version of the UN- hanging out with YWAMers from America, Australia, Germany, Korea, India and Romania. Justin got lots of laughs when he thanked these strangers for making it to his birthday bonfire and the big part they have played in his life.

We did part of our Switzerland trip and all of our time in Spain the cheapest way possible by camping. It mostly went smoothly but there were a few nights we won't forget for awhile. Justin came up with a brilliant idea to camp sans the tent in the shed at the YWAM base in Switzerland. We were flying out of Geneva early the next day and he thought it would save us getting up super early to pack up the tent. Turns out we didn't need to get up early as we barely slept all night. We lay our camp mattresses on top of an army tarp and did a thorough search for spiders, rats and other vermin and it was all clear. So we were drifting off to sleep inhaling the fumes from the ride-on mower we were sleeping next to when we heard something rolling down the roof, then scurrying back up, rolling back down... you get the idea. Justin checked and found a family of moles hiding from him under an eave in the roof. Who knew moles could be so noisy! We gave up on sleep and headed up the hill with all our stuff in the middle of the night to the main house, where we slept on the floor for a few hours behind the couches in the common room.

Our other eventful night out was in Spain. We were camped at a nowhere place next to silos while in transit from Portugal to the Pyrenees. We were setting up camp at dinnertime and it was still scorching. The rain kicked in as soon as we had finished putting up the tent and stopped just before we went to bed. Turns out this was just the calm before the storm. The campground owner had told us the weather is normally fine but it was forecast to be cloudy for the next two days- what he failed to mention was that night we would have the most terrifying storm ever! We dozed on and off for the first few hours as storm after storm formed above our tent, scared the crap out of us with the lightening that lit up the tent, then moved on, only for another one to form overhead. The thunder was deafening, like nothing I have ever heard before, but I guess there was just a piece of plastic called a tent separating me from the storm.

The storm must have died down and given me some reprieve to sleep until I woke to Justin calling out to me to grab what I could and get out of the tent. (Justin: I had woken a few minutes before to a new storm approaching and a dull roaring noise in the distance, next minute the first gust arrived and it sounded like a jet engine.) A wind had picked up and was blowing the tent so hard we were worried the tent might collapse on us, or worst case, pick the tent up and throw us over the fence. So in a sleep haze in my PJs and wrapped in a sleeping bag against the cold wind I had to run to the car. I don't know if that was better or worse because I then had a front row seat to watch the lightening light up the sky overhead and get dangerously close to the silos. Next port of call was the toilet block if things got worse and that didn't appeal to me, so I just tried to ignore the cracks of lightening and went to sleep sitting up in the car (plenty of air travel prepared me for this).

We leave the Pyrenees tomorrow for Barcelona, where we spend a couple of days before flying to Turkey. The plans from there are up in the air but will probably involve travelling up through the eastern bloc before heading back to the UK.

This stretch of the trip has been particularly hard for me as I mourn the loss of my nana, who died at home in Toowoomba a couple of weeks ago. It was news I had been expecting ever since we left home but its still been difficult to commute away from family and the countless reminders of her life. She loved to travel herself and the final time she went overseas was in her 80s, so I know she understood what we are doing and why we couldn't come home. Nana was a woman who was truly unique, with class, quiet strength and a humble faith. She was someone you wanted to spend as much time as possible with, something I don't think you can say about too many people. She wasn't just a grandmother to me but also a friend and a great listener and she will be greatly missed.

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