Tag Archives: Erasmus

Blades of Glory, Barneys bowlarama, charades in a bar and saying goodbye to 2014.

First off, sorry for the long winded title, I know it’s a mouthful of a sentence but there is a lot to say about the recent activities of ESN Plymouth that due to coursework and alcoholic restraints I have failed to write up, so brace yourself for a fairly lengthy post, although while in Spain I wrote bigger ones (like this one) , so suck it up and read on.

After our eventual return to the cold and windy city we call home (for now) from Edinburgh most of us went to bed thinking we would have some respite from the stresses and strains of Erasmus work and organising of parties and whatnot, but some were mistaken, myself included. The next ESN Plymouth event was just around the corner and already had a fair amount of interest from the rest of the society, so there was much to be done… But first, a nap.


As the title would suggest (for those who’ve seen the film it refers to- trailer here) we took a few of our esteemed members to Plymouth’s outdoor ice rink in the town centre to see how many people the barrier could hold before it collapsed under the weight of us all clinging on for dear life. (Ice Angels Rink) It turns out that one of our French members, unbeknownst to the rest of us, is an ice hockey player at the nearby Pavilions rink, so lorded it over the rest of us without even having the common decency to fall over and humiliate himself even once to restore the balance… Bloody show off… Some of us had done a little skating before, including the fantastic 4 from Finland who (along with the show off) tore up the ice in graceful fashion, blissfully unaware of the accidents waiting to happen behind them.

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Ice queens

With everyone on the ice in skates that nearly fit, we shuffled our way into the traffic system of the rink for nearly an hour of precarious balance (or lack thereof) and a great deal of holding each other up. Without wanting to mention names, one particular member had never even worn ice skates before, and his début on the ice was remarkably worry free apart from one little slip where he may have got a wet bum and a wry smile from the Finns and show off French guy but that’s about it. I did quite alright if I may say so myself, and what with it being my blog, I think I may.

All joking aside the whole group seemed to enjoy themselves tearing up the ice while trying to avoid crashing into one another and going head over heels, there was in fact some pairs figure skating going on between two of our Finnish members who took the ‘blades of glory’ reference rather seriously, but looked bloody gracious doing so. Fair play girls, fair play. Once we had unlaced our skates and rubbed our swollen ankles we did what all Erasmus students do after any form of activity whether academic or otherwise, and we went to the pub.

Winter Olympics here we come!
Winter Olympics here we come!

A few short days later we all met once again to take our not-very-marketable skills to another of Plymouth’s leisure outlets and throw some balls around for a while. No, before you say it, just no, no innuendo or sexual references whatsoever, shame on you! I’m talking about bowling… dirty minded sods… Tenpin Bowling down on the Barbican is Plymouth’s premiere establishment for playing with balls for a small fee on a cold evening. Well, it is now that C103 closed down, but only people who’ve been to Plymouth will get that… (Sorry mum, couldn’t resist a sex joke, I’m only human!) However upon our arrival at the bowling alley we discovered that all the lanes were in fact occupied, and that our group was a bit too large to fit the lanes we had booked, so our group were offered a different booking a week later. While this was an inconvenience at the time, it turned the evening into an alcohol fuelled trip round bars nearby, so all was not lost!

we ended up playing with his afro... like you do
we ended up playing with his afro… like you do

At this point I should point out that as a result of the slip up (not an ice skating reference) with the bowling alley, our society Christmas dinner happened before the ice skating itself, rather than after as was the original plan. But for the sake of my ageing brain and inability to think of more than one topic at a time i’ll tell you about the actual bowling event now and pretend that it happened before dinner… no one will be any the wiser…

On our rearranged bowling date the heavens opened and rain fell in abundance as is often the way here in the sunny south west. This put somewhat of a dampener (see what I did there?) on our otherwise positive attitudes and meant a large proportion of our original bowling contingent were unable to make it to the alley. However all was not lost as soon enough a marvellous Mauritian (who is becoming somewhat part of the furniture these days) showed up and was quickly followed by a handful of other members. the 15 of us then set about throwing our balls (yes I know) down the alley and trying in vain to look gracious while doing so. I personally scored the first ‘strike’ of my soon to be long and fruitful bowling career, which was quickly followed by another cocky throw knocking down only one pin, but taking my pride and future down the gutter with it.

The drinks and conversation and trash talking flowed and we had fun by all accounts before making our way out of the alley to go our separate ways and rest out aching joints from so much exertion with a cheeky pint or 3, as is the custom of ESN students. (you should know that by now if you’ve been reading the past posts really…)

The Pin Pals (Simpsons fans will get that)
The Pin Pals (Simpsons fans will get that)

Now to the Christmas dinner, which came before the bowling, much like the chicken and the egg but clearly more serious because it involved a piano and alcohol. The venue for the ESN Plymouth Christmas shindig and send off was the Berkeley Bar and Grill, a restaurant near the hoe (not the ones whole patrol Union Street on a weekend, I mean the pretty one with grass and a lighthouse) famed for good food and wine at reasonable prices. A group of 35 ESNers’ made our way there for a few drinks and to share in a buffet while discussing the most pressing matters of the day, such as who was wearing the shortest skirt or who got the most drunk at a recent party that the committee members weren’t invited to. (Yes Alex, it still hurts us!) Once we had eaten our fill and chatted to our hearts content we had the customary awards ceremony that comes with any works or students do at a restaurant, complete with loud cheering from the girls and over enthusiastic clapping from the boys. I can’t remember all of the awards nor who they went to off the top of my head, but I remember one being Mr. Flirt (for the gentleman most likely to be seen leaning on a wall talking crap to an uncomfortable girl nearby) hqdefault

another was Party Animal, for the lady amongst us most often seen either with a bottle in her hand or, more often than not, lying beside her in a comatose state. (that’s an exaggeration, but i’ve gotta be dramatic you know?) and another being Mr and Ms Edinburgh, for the male and female member who best demonstrated the Erasmus spirit on our recent outing to the Scottish capital (read about it here).

The winners were then invited (without option of course) to take part in a game of charades that saw them degrading themselves in hilarious fashion trying to impersonate ideas ranging from Shrek, to Charizard and even Britney Spears (the latter two could easily be confused if the acting was crap) After embarrassing people in front of their friends for long enough we held a small raffle where the 3 lucky winners would get either a bottle of wine, box of chocolates or the cheapest bottle of champagne that the tight fisted Northern English git who bought it was prepared to pay for.

The winners themselves
The winners themselves

Upon our departure from the restaurant with the warm food eaten and the cheap drinks drunk we set off into the cold night to hit a nearby nightclub that stays open until 3 in the morning on Sundays for some reason. I took myself to bed though, the old age and the 4 Mojitos had taken their toll and I dozed peacefully on the sofa in the living room until beaten up the stairs with a pillow by my house-mate because my alcohol induced snoring was disturbing her binge-watching of some crap telly…

I can see it in your eyes already, the end is in sight surely? I hear you say… but no, I’m sorry to say there is in fact more to write today, as this is set to be the final post of this blog for 2014, and the events detailed above are the last that some of our members will spend with us this year. So it is time to say a fond farewell to them and wish them all the best for their studies back home.


As an organisation the Erasmus Student Network spans the EU and higher education institutions the region over welcome Erasmus students with open arms and open bars, and Plymouth is no exception. (apart from the open bars part, we’re too tight for that down here). This term we have had a huge number of students from as far afield as Lithuania and the Ukraine, and everywhere in between. We have members from Mauritius (I mentioned him previously, pay attention!) and the US, Australia and even Vietnam and they make our experiences the best we could ever hope for. While I did my Erasmus placement in Spain I met a fantastic number of people from an even greater range of nations and I owe them my thanks, for without them I would not have had the experience that encouraged me to get more involved with Erasmus and certainly not be a part of the ESN section in Plymouth. Likewise for those here now, they (for the most part) have had an amazing time in this cold and wet little corner of the UK and they owe it in large part to the friends they’ve made here that they otherwise would never have know even existed.

The Fantastic Finns, the Fabulous French, the Delectable Dane (yeah there’s only one of ’em) and the Incredible Italians to name but a few, have given their utmost to the society and made every effort to make the most of their time in Plymouth, for which they should all be extremely proud. It is with sadness we say farewell to a large number of our dear members and friends, with whom we have spent such good times and seen so much.

Come the new year there will be another intake of ESN students from anywhere one could think of, and the whole process will start again, but for those who are leaving us here, we will not forget you. Nor shall we forget that you damn Finns stole the mascot!!!!!!!!!

it's like Taken! someone call Liam Neeson! LIAM!!!!
it’s like Taken! someone call Liam Neeson! LIAM!!!!

I am pleased to announce that this is the end of this post!!! so rest easy, the hard work is done. What follows are the remnants of the photos from our various events and goings on for you to peruse and enjoy, and you’ll be hearing from us in the new year. Merry Christmas one and all! x


The Iceman falleth!
The Iceman falleth!
The dinner party
The dinner party
What happens when you let students have a house...
What happens when you let students have a house…
Well, that's much worse in fact...
Well, that’s much worse in fact…
lining up the shot
lining up the shot
standard attempt at badass photo
standard attempt at badass photo

Not quite the end

I realise that more than 2 months have passed since the last post was uploaded here, and in that time not a huge amount has happened with regards to Spain or my ongoing relationship with the great phenomenon known as ‘siesta’ especially considering that at work back home people who take siestas by the pool they are supposed to be lifeguarding would be considered lazy or counter productive.

Imagine him with a pair of bright red shorts on…

However in my brief absence from posting to this site I have been appointed a board member of the Erasmus Network of my host university in Plymouth. Having spent the past 10 months living and working in Spain alongside people from all over the world, coming together under the banner of the global Erasmus Network, it is a pleasure to be able to contribute to the Erasmus experiences of those visiting the sunny corner of south Devon that I call home.

 

the skies are never really that clear…

I had thought at first to call time of death on this blog, and to consign its posts and fate to the histories of the internet and never look at it again.
However with the new opportunity presented to me to help offer others the same great experiences that were offered to mr by ESN Vigo, I have decided to merely change the direction of this blog slightly and continue the posting.

It may seem a bit like flogging a dead horse, or at least one that’s so close to death it’s not worth the time, but a small part of me is secretly proud to be a part of the mechanism of global student exchange and movement, and wants to publicise the efforts of ESN Plymouth and our members for the world.

So if you please, keep an eye on this site, as it won’t lay dormant forever and will soon be back up and running again once the new university year kicks off in a few weeks. I do hope you’ll keep reading, as it’s been a pleasure to write all the posts i’ve written so far, and I’m sure it will continue to be, so as the title suggests, this is not quite the end.

But before I sign off today there is one more thing left to do that has been outstanding since I left Vigo, and that is to extend an enormous thank you to everyone I met and befriended durig my time in Spain.
There are far too many names to name and memories to list, but needless to say you all helped make my time abroad the fantastic experience it was, for which I am hugely grateful. You can each expect a visit in your native lands at some point in the future and as the phrase goes ‘mi casa es su casa.’

The first of many

As with any walk of life, the untimely departure of any of our Erasmus friends is hard. By untimely departure I do not mean death, merely that they move on to better things elsewhere. They migrate to other jobs, universities or even countries, or return to their native lands to carry on with the rest of their lives.
This is to be expected, years like these where we spend our time bouncing from bar to bar and beach to beach while convincing ourselves we are studying or working hard cannot last forever. However long your Erasmus placement is, whether it be 3 weeks or 9 months as mine is, the time flies by far too fast and people start to move on to new things.
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It rapidly comes to the point where we must part ways, which has happened here this past weekend. I shall not go into details about this, nor shall I break the trust or annonymity of the person who has moved on to greener pastures, but that doesn’t make saying goodbye any easier. I know them well enough to know publicity isn’t what they are looking for, so I shall merely say this-
All of us here will miss you dearly, we wish you the very best wherever you end up, and there will always be a spare room open to you in our respective countries and hopefully for us in yours too. Thank you for having been such a good friend to us all, and I hope to see you again one day, perhaps in Australia…
Now on to a happier note. This weekend has also seen the arrival of a very close friend of mine from home for a long weekend away in Spain to escape the diabolical weather of our home nation.  In my endless wisdom I invited my friend to join me at work on Friday, thinking nothing would go wrong. Yet as proved many times before, my endless wisdom often leaves much to be desired. The children were aware that my friend was to arrive, and had prepared well in advance by learning various phrases of colourful language in English with which to proposition him, without realising entirely what half of them actually meant. This made for a farily interesting day of trying to teach them something practical, while trying to keep the girls attention fixed on the textbooks instead of my friends dreamy face. None of the things they said were appropriate at the time, nor are they appropriate to be repeated here, but believe me it left little to the imagination. I am highly unimpressed by the children in all honesty, and shall be having stern words with a select few once my friend returns home.
But until then there are things to do, places to go, people to annoy, classes to teach and preparations to be made for the school trip to Manchester on thursday. So for now i’ll sign off by saying one last thing to my friend who has left Vigo-
I found a place with better guacamole than the usual restaurant, you’d better come back…
guacamole1
This is an internet picture, but you get what I mean…

You’re a pro dude! ……Wanna buy some hash?

Don’t worry yourselves, i’m not using this blog to branch out into drug dealing, however for anyone looking for drugs, head down to Lisbon and walk down the street for about 10 minutes or so. I guarentee that you will be offered almost any kind of drug you could want.

Many apologies for my great inactivity over the last few days, life has been fairly boring until this weekend, when I was lucky enough to head down to Portugal for a couple of days of relaxation and exploration. There is alot to be said about visiting Portugal, especially if one has more time than just a weekend, yet still I saw and did alot in a short time. It transpires that one can get from Vigo to Oporto (just over the border) on the bus in about an hour and a half for less than €25. With this in mind it felt wierd that I had not been to Oporto before, and from there one can get to Lisbon in 3 hours for another €25, so really there seemed little point not going.

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porto river view

Without wanting to sound like a guidebook, or an advert for the Portuguese tourism industry, I cannot reccommend Portugal enough. Oporto is a rather attractive city with a picturesque riverside running through it, with port wine distrilleries along its southern bank, and tourist sightseeing bus routes and river cruises running across from its northern bank. Under the careful instruction of a friend of mine we set off on a ‘bluebus’ sightseeing tour around the city, including a river cruise and a guided tour around one of the port wine distilleries. For unforseen reasons the river cruise boat had broken down, yet we still got to enjoy the bus tour with accompanying English audio tours and the port wine distillery with as many free glasses of strong port taster samples a guy can handle before the floor starts moving.
Among the innumerable historical sights and cultural hideaways the city has, one of the major things that stuck with me was the English audio I listened to on the bus.
The bus came with audio jacks in the seats and 16 channels of audio in different languages to choose from, ranging from Spanish, to Dutch, Finnish, Japanese, and even English with a certain degree of accuracy.

At a couple of points the man reading out the audio for the recording said things like ‘well, this is just terrible’ and started a sentence again, and at one point said ‘who translated this rubbish? It doesn’t make sense’ all of which was left on the recording to be heard by every English speaker on the bus. Made for quite an interesting ride… Once off the bus we went to a port wine distellery, quided tour and wine tasting followed, and although the tour was short and sweet, the tasting too, rather longer. Pretending to savour the flavours and such and acting like a connoiseur instead of a standard Erasmus student enjoying free booze. I ended up buying a couple of bottles of the finest cheap port money could buy… Well, when in Rome, or in this case Porto…

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some time later…

I should mention at this point that this weekend of the 25th of April carries special significance in Portugal, as it is the 40th anniversary of the Carnation Revolution that overthrew the fascist dictatorship of the Estado Novo (new state). As before, i’m told not to go into the history or i’ll bore people to death, so if you’re interested in the history, look it up here- http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carnation_Revolution

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In Porto there were concerts in the square, many red carnations floating about, fireworks and great amounts of shouting and chanting. At first it was quite disconcerting to be surrouned by drunk Portugese men and women screaming ‘Fascismo nunca mais!’ (Faschism never again) and staring at me and my friend for not joining in, but all was well and we didn’t get lynched for not wearing a carnation and screaming like crazy.

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how we felt when surrounded by shouting drunks

The next day saw me travel to Lisbon and get a bit lost on the metro. Eventually we found the hostel and set off out into the city. I fell in love with Lisbon within about half an hour, and cannot express enough how great a place it is to go. The weather was fantastic too which certainly helps. It being the weekend of the 25th of April the city was crawling with happy people wearing red Carnations and selling them too, and military personnel showing off the might of the Portugese marines to aspiring young children like myself. There is far too much to be said about the city and its beauty, it took 3 separate sightseeing bus tours and a rather interesting ride on an acient tram to see even a third of the city. If one were to go again you would have to spend at least 4 days in Lisbon alone to really experience it properly, so mark my words, i’ll be going back pretty soon…

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Wouldn’t be an Erasmus holiday without a trip to the liquor store

Rather than go into great detail about all we got up to, which would take a while, i’ll instead leave a few photos for you. However one sight definitly worth mentioning, and an essential stop on any Erasmus trip of any kind- the beer museum ‘the world of Portugese beers’ which did exactly what it says on the tin. (No pun intended)
After a really brief walk around a 3 room museum with tonnes of great beer adverts from all over the former Portugese colonies, and broken air conditioning I somehow got the urge for a cold pint or four, and when the need arises one cannot ignore it…
I neglected to photograph the menu, which would have demonstrated well the great extent of the beer range available. But take my word for it, a normal person would be holding on to the bar to stop the floor flying away after about a third of the list.

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again, Erasmus roots prevail…

After some rather tasty and cold beers we set off to explore again, and once again I won’t list all the sights and sounds except a lovely guy I spoke to in the Hardrock Cafe who said ‘you’re a pro dude’ when he learned i’m an English teacher in Spain and invited me to his house in Istanbul where a new cafe has just opened. And then the great proliferation of seedy blokes in leather jackets and fake Ray Bans selling hash to anyone and everyone despite the city being crawling with police and soldiers. As previously mentioned it takes roughly 10-15 minutes of standing in the street looking like a bit of a tourist before someone will come over, hold their hand low by their waist and mutter ‘eh my friend, hashish? Weed? You want weed? Everybody want weed’ then walk off rather fast when told awkwardly ‘oh, no thank you, but good luck selling to someone else.’ If I was a regular user I doubt I would have left Lisbon at all, but since its only recreational for me, I thought I could survive on the weed I took with me…

By the way that was entirely a joke mum. Seriously don’t worry i’m not a pothead. stop crying, calm down… No, no don’t call the police! I’m sorry!

In all seriousness though the sheer number of people selling hash and what looked like block Heroin was quite suprising, and after a while it became easy to spot who was going to sell to you coming from about 100m away. Having only ever been offered weed before in the toilets of really down market bars by someone half passed out in the sink and once by a school kid, it was wierd to be constantly waving people off while trying to take photos of the scenery. Apart from that though Lisbon is a fantastic city to visit, and especially if you’re a fan of hash…

I’ll sign off now but will just make a quick point too. On the bus on the way back to Vigo last night we were ‘blessed’ by the company of four rather loud and expressive American girls who really shouldn’t have been as excited as they were at 10pm, and certainly should have considered that there are other people all over the place who speak English too and some who were trying to sleep. After several minutes of doing the very British thing of giving them evils and expecting them to figure out that I wanted them to shut up they turned to me and asked ‘oh do you speak English? Sorry, if you want to sleep then you picked the wrong seat haha.’
Upon being told quietly that yes, I do speak English, and yes, we would like to sleep if they wouldn’t mind, they got a bit embarrassed and started to quieten down a bit.

The lesson is this- to all those loud people out there on busses late at night, be careful what you say and how loud you say it. You never know who is listening, whether they want to or not, and whether you taking the piss out of their accent before even making sure that there isn’t anyone with that accent in the vicinity is a good idea. If I wasn’t British and therefore bound by some kind of genetic inability to complain loudly I might have said something to the girls sooner, and next time I promise I will… Or at least i’ll try, but most likely get embarrassed, go bright red and hide behind my shirt collar. But the point stands, be careful how loud you are, and if you’re gonna be rude about a group of people, do so in a language they couldn’t possibly understand.

Oh, and before I forget (again) Happy Birthday mum! x

To go, or not to go.

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Like countless Erasmus students before me, and like countless yet to come, I am torn between a desire to see my family back home again, and an overwhelming desire to stay abroad and not go back home at all. This is a stark contrast to my attitude of the first few weeks of this blog, but don’t let that discredit my point.

Anyone who has ever been on an Erasmus placement year, or any kind of student exchange year for that matter anywhere in the world can attest to the great pleasure that can be had during the time you’re there. You meet some fantastic people, make a huge number of friends in a short space of time, you see and experience whole new worlds and your life becomes one great big holiday (of sorts) with your new but already close mates. Now to many, home life means time away from all the ‘work’ that goes on on a year abroad, and a trip home for a long weekend or a mini holiday is a truly welcome break. Yet for a suprising number of us (i’ve spoken to a fair few people but this is hardly an extensive research project) the prospect of going home and leaving our cosy little lives overseas even for as little as a weeks holiday for easter makes us think ‘if only I had more time.’

I’m not saying i’m not looking forward to going home. If my parents are reading this- I’m very much looking forward to seeing you again, but I cannot deny that a part of me wishes to stay in Spain and keep life going in the way it has for the past few weeks and months. I guarentee that I am not the only one out there who misses home from time to time, but those times are few and far between. I realise this is a stark contrast to my attitude at the start of this blog, but don’t let that discredit my point.
When talking with a good friend of mine over a few beers a couple of days ago after work, we came up with a list of the reasons we don’t want to go home, we even ran out of fingers to count them on. But despite these numerous reasons ranging from the great cost of flights and public transport to the totally unfair yet ever present worry that life at home might seem a little slow and possibly even boring compared to our lives overseas. And of course the fact that the weather in our native land isn’t known for being that great, it’s a crying shame to be boarding a flight in the glorious Spanish sun wearing shorts and a t-shirt, knowing that your pee will freeze before it hits the toilet and your tongue will stick to a lamp post even in mid-August. Although why anyone would want to lick a lamp post in the first place is slightly confusing…
Yet neither my friend nor I had to think hard to list a great number of reasons why we actually do want to go home for a bit, why it’s actually just what we all need from time to time.

Firstly, regardless of your age, I don’t think anyone can argue that sometimes we need our parents there with us. We move out from the house, we grow up, we fall in and out of love and people come and go, yet our parents will be there regardless, and often defend us to the ends of the earth when others won’t. That’s something we sometimes forget while abroad, that while we are having the time of our lives, our parents are back home missing us and loving us more than ever.

Secondly, there’s nothing better than a home cooked meal. At the moment our kitchen is being refurbished, which is rather unfortunate since it means the ‘homecooked meal’ awaiting me is in fact a curry from the local takeaway, but nonetheless the point is valid. Living in Spain and eating amazing Spanish food is fantastic, and I already miss the tortilla I get everyday at work, but we still look forward to the meals we eat with our parents. The conversation topics may have changed, but it’s like being a kid again. And as we get older, who doesn’t want to feel young again?

I couldnt list all of the reasons we came up with for coming home, so i’ll end on one that has been a constant for me, one that has always pulled me home. Living independently in Spain is great yes, earning money and being semi self sufficient is good fun too (sometimes less so) yet the chance to have things paid for by the federal bank of mum and dad is never one to pass up. It may not be as lavish as it was when we were younger amd away at school or wherever, yet parents will provide and care for us better than we almost ever could.

So here we are, landed at the airport having left Spain in the glorious sun, and looking out of the window at grey clouds and grumpy looking ground staff. I’ll admit I want the pilot to turn around and fly us back to Spain, maybe to Barcelona or Cadiz, somewhere sunny… But home is where the bank account is, so i’m happy to be back.

See you in 10 days Spain, don’t miss me too much.

A long weekend away

After a brief few days of absence we have returned to Vigo to blog again with a vengeance. This weekend saw 70 (give or take) Erasmus students and teaching assistants like myself from southern Galicia sweep down upon Asturias and Leon for a couple of days of relaxation and networking with our counterparts from across Northern Spain. Setting off from Vigo nice and early on Friday and going via Gijón, Oviedo, Leon, Astorga and Las Medulas, it looked set to be a fun filled and quite tiring weekend. And it certainly didn’t disappoint.

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the angel of the north

After a brief siesta on the bus, we found ourselves on the coast at a lovely place known as the Praia do Catedrais, a sandstone beach head with caves, arches, stacks and stumps that are worthy of note. These rock formations are remarkably simple yet create complex and beautiful scenery across coastlines the world over, Rather than going into details about how these geographical formations are created, i’ll let you read it yourself should you be interested- http://101coastsgroup1.wikispaces.com/5+SEA+CAVES,+ARCHES,+STACKS+AND+STUMPS


 

Stop number two of the viaje was in a lovely little town on the norther coast of Asturias, about an hour north of Oviedo was Gijón, a port town with a rather exposed and windy headland. Gijón is home to numerous small winding streets and quaint little cider bars, an enourmous Christmas tree made entirely of empty cider bottles, and a huge and rather unattractive sculpture that somewhat resembles a half-finished sundial on its most northerly point. There is an interesting history about the town itself and the sundial, but I have been advised not to go into it as it’s long and complex and so would take up far too much time to write about, so instead here’s a link to the Spanish Wikipedia page all about the town- http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gij%C3%B3n

Being the tourist that I am I felt the need to take the standard Gijón photo of myself sitting in the G of the town sign. I almost fell out backwards in the process, but thanks to my cat-like reflexes (modesty at its finest there) and a great desire not to fall flat on my ass in front of the group I managed to save myself at the last minute. Although the shock still gave my heart a bit of a judder. After surviving my near miss with the ground we wandered up to check out the aforementioned sundial-thing (I realise it’s not a sundial, but in all honesty I couldn’t tell you what it’s supposed to be, so sundial will have to do for now) and then down to a cider bar in the town centre. It’s worth mentioning now the method by which Asturian cider vendors pour their cider. I’m told that there is something of an honour code involved, in that one is not supposed to look at the glass when pouring, and should hold the glass as low to the floor as possible, stare straight ahead with the bottle held aloft, and pour half the bottle onto the floor before a drop even touches the glass. Until this was explained to me I did wonder why the streets smelled a bit like the back end of the students union bar back home…

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perched precariously on the edge…

The third stop on our Friday tour was Oviedo, the bourgeois capital of Asturias. There is far too much to say about Oviedo and I wouldn’t want people to die of old age or boredom while reading this so i’ll keep it brief. It’s a rich and clean city compared to the rather industrial rest of the comunidad autonoma, With very lovely architecture and gardens (if you’re into that sort of thing) and a great number of flash bars and clubs knocking about to keep the sizeable student population busy at night. We went off on a city tour, led by student guides from ESN Oviedo, with the occasional local nutter screaming about wrong information and damn students, and far too many statues with enormous butts for comfort. Somehow I managed to lose my way from the tour group, which seems to be becoming a habit of mine. I almost bought an Oviedo Universtiy baseball jacket in a shop but neglected to do so. (you can see just how interesting a solo tour is if the only thing I mention is a jacket shop). Our 70 strong group then met up with a much smaller contingent from ESN Oviedo and hit the town, swinging by a bar known as B12, a small yet reputable bar/club among the Erasmus population of Oviedo and the nearby smaller pueblos. Image

 


The next day we set off for Leon, the main event of our whole trip. We were met by representatives from ESN Oviedo again, and from ESN Leon and set off on a city tour of a somewhat different nature than I was anticipating. Normal city tours involve learning about the history of the city and the buildings, yet in Leon in involved drinking games of varying severity and ingenuity, and also some history, but no one was really paying attention. We were gifted a free bottle of sangria each before we even set off, bearing in mind that this was at around 18:00 and the party wasn’t supposed to start until midnight, people started to get merry remarkably fast. After a game involving necking a large bottle of sangria in teams, and one involving sprinting with an apple in your teeth, passing it to another team member by all but eating their face and then running back, and one involving a red flag which I didn’t entirely understand, my team emerged triumphant. Much to our delight, and slight disappointment when we learned there was no prize involved. We had time to prepare our livers and hairstyles for the nights antics. The less said about the night the easier and better, alcohol was plentiful and cheap, and the bar was crowded and the rood leaked, but was still fun.Image

 


After the hangovers had receded slightly and the breakfast had settled, we set out for Astorga, a small town noted for its chocolate museum and numerous chocolate shops, and Gaudi Palacial home. It having been a Sunday there were few things open to see or do, so chocolate was bought and eaten, and a few photos were taken, but little else I’m afraid…

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The Gaudi Structure
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the plentiful chocolate


 

The final stop of our weekend, and the final part of this saga of a blog post was the Las Medulas mountain area where the Romans harvested Gold from enormous mountains using nothing but cunning, water and gravity. The method they used is rather clever, and would take alot of explaining, so as previously i’ll let you read into it yourselves here- http://www.medulas.com/

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there used to be one great big mountain there, rather than just a stump and ridge…

 

I shall now round off this long and arduous post with a couple more pictures to try to win back the audience, whom I fear I may have killed with text and sheer boredom. I am unsure of what or when the next Erasmus trip will be, but I eagerly await it’s arrival. I cannot recommend enough the experiences one can have when an organisation like the Erasmus Student Network offers trips like this at exceptionally affordable prices. If any of you dear readers get the chance to take part in an Erasmus scheme exchange or anything or the sort, take my word for it and make the most of the chance you get. It’s well worth it, you will see so many places you otherwise may not get to see, and make friends with some fantastic people to share such times with, and you will be all the better off for it.

Until the next time, enjoy these photos and forgive me for the rather long post today.

 

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the aforementioned Christmas tree made of cider bottles

 

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Lovely bit of countryside at the Praia, was hellish cold though…
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the group stood inside the sundial

 

 

One doesn’t like to Braga, but my puns are the best…

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Apologies for the frankly terrible word play in the title, but todays post is about Braga, a town in Portugal i visited on saturday while pretending to be a translation student at Vigo University, and therefore entitled to join them on free trips out.

Its a fantastic town, I would reccomend a visit if you’re ever in Portugal, wait until its a bit sunnier though, as im sure you can see from the photo above the clouds came rolling over when I went, but it was still a really nice trip.
The whole experience made me think of one of the other teachers I know, who is out in France, near Paris yet hasn’t been out to any other places other than Paris since he arrived in September. I feel he is missing out somewhat on a great opportunity to explore a country and even a continent he may otherwise not be able to explore with such ease, as he is a US citizen and as such he cannot just pop over to the EU, whereas those from the UK can jump on a train, or bus in the case of Braga this past weekend.

I don’t understand my friends logic in not wanting to explore the region or the country as a whole. Throughout my life i’ve lived in many different countries and been very lucky in that i’ve had the opportunities to travel and explore many other countries in my short years, and while sometimes I felt that it was a coñazo, I wouldn’t change that for the world.
Don’t get me wrong, I often think that maybe a ‘normal’ life where I live in the same house for years and years and have a deep root network around would be nice, and in honesty sometimes I yearn to just settle down and live in one place and not travel anymore… However its brought home to me just how lucky i’ve been, and how lucky we are at the moment to be in such great countries with the world on the doorstep.

I would advise my friend in Paris to get off his ass and explore a bit, to grab the opportunity by the short and curlys while he has the chance, as once it’s gone, it may never return.
For those of you who are presented with the chance to travel and to explore, I can think of no great reason not to. I realise this is practically the polar opposite of how I felt and expressed myself at the start of this academic year, and it is with no small amount of humble pie that I must confess to having been dead wrong back then. While I do still long for a simple life in a small town or village somewhere and to lead what is known to me at least as a ‘normal’ life, there will be time for that. For now, I’ll be off. See you in Salamanca this weekend!

Oh, and one more time, mate! Get off your ass!