"Texas ist der Bayern von America"

    After feeling bad for myself, still in Innsbruck, I took a lift up to some of the hiking trails in the mountains that hang just above the city.  The scenery was awesome and came up on you in an instant. There were a lot of other people around the gondolas, but 5 minutes in either direction and I was completely alone.  By the way, blogspot has terrible text editing features that make it impossible to have a clear background if you ever change it from that... thank goodness for Excel.

Innsbruck

Germany to the north

    Two of the guys in my hostel room I had met a few days ago in Bolzano.  They asked me if I wanted to come to the "public viewing" of the England vs. Ukraine soccer game, and I said, "only if I can wear my American flag."  So the three of us and some German girl who hates everything about Germany went to this big party, with me wearing my flag like a cape, and a badge of honor.  A lot of people stared at me and laughed and I heard someone say, "yeah the US is gonna go pretty far in the Eurocup."  But it was Austria so I didn't run into any anti-freedom anti-American sentimentality.  

Fried Tirolean bread dumplings with bacon and egg.  Better than the Don Juan.

    I took a train from Innsbruck back to Munich and got lunch with the Sandefurs (the YL family we stayed with a few weeks ago!) at a huge biergarten.  I forget the name of what I got, but it was a giant roll of meat with some potato salad and was amazing.  It was good to see them again and hear more about life abroad.  I told them about my few days in Bolzano/Innsbruck where I hated everything and they knew exactly what I was talking about: they had a rough time even a week within moving to Germany.  It was good to have someone to relate with, and I walked away really glad I had gotten to see them again.  One of the workers at the restaurant asked where we were from, and Ryan told him Texas, to which he responded, "ahhhh!  "Texas ist der Bayern von America!" which means "Texas is the Bavaria of America!"  Apparently, Bavarians feel that they have a lot in common with Texas, and in some ways they do.  Bavarians consider themselves Bavarians, then Germans.  My friend Jerry from Bamberg considered himself Franconian, then Bavarian, then German.  Gotta love the regional pride.

    I had 6 hours in Munich until my flight to Barcelona.  I thought about just reading, going to the gardens, seeing the river-surfers again, but decided to go to the Weihenstephan Abbey Brewery, just north of the airport.  Besides the Weihenstephan Weißbier being the greatest beer is all of Deutschland, they're also the oldest brewery in the world, established in 1040, and can trace its roots back to 768.  That's over a millennium of brewmastery, or braumeister-y.  It's now home to a university in which students can actually major is "Brewing Technology."  Forget petroleum engineering, damn.  The biergarten was actually really hard to find and a solid 20 minute hike through the woods to get to, but definitely worth it.  

Weihenstephan

    I rushed back to the bus station, went to the airport, and like that I was in Barcelona, Spain.  Why did I fly?  It would have been a 20 hour train ride and the reservations would have cost just as much as the plane ticket.  Why Barcelona?  To meet up with more friends, of course.  The next day, I met up with Carolyn Volk, Ellie Felbaum, Heidi Held, Heidi's sister Haley, and their friend Maria, who had all spent a month in Sevilla taking classes.  To make things even better, we grabbed some baguette, cheese, and chorizo and headed to a grassy area near the ocean.  The baguette/cheese/meat meal has become one of my favorites and I'm determined to continue working it in the States.

Me and good ole Carol

Picasso sketch, right before some psycho museum lady on a power trip gave me the business.

Sagrada Familia - very unique and beautiful

From the outside

    The next day we walked around the city and just did touristy stuff, but that night was a big one: Spain beat out France in the Eurocup and it was the festival of St. Miguel, which is basically a Fourth of July on the beach until the sunrise.  We met up with a big group of guys from UT, as well as Maricarolyn and Ellie, hit the beach around midnight, and walked into a war zone.  We had heard stories of how crazy this night was, but we were getting bombed by 8 year olds with fireworks that packed way more power than anything in the US.  I'm pretty sure I saw a kid in diapers with a roman candle or two.  The beach was pretty sketchy, but eventually we found out groove and chilled on the beach until 4 AM, leaving with the party still in full swing.  

The beach at 4 AM.

    I had heard for months now that Barca was a crazy place and the rumors are true.  It's cool and all, but I don't see myself coming back here, but I'm stoked to go to some of the smaller Spanish cities.  It's starting to sink in that I have three weeks and a day to cruise around Spain before I head home... and those days will go very quickly!