Carrots & Beets
We believe people should be connected to their food. We have visited local Crabtree Farms to show how good food can get.
Crabtree Farms
Here are some lovely farmers at Crabtree Farms, a local farm right outside of downtown Chattanooga.
Camp James
This is a personal project we recently shot with our amazing painter friend Cydney See and her companion James.
"Don't ride him. A lot of people try to ride him." - Jo Bennett
Cydney See
We shot the day in the life of an amazing painter Cydney SEE. Check out her work, buy an original painting, and send some love to this firecracker of creativity. https://www.cydneysee.com
Paris
Day 10 - Emily’s Entry - October 4 - 11:09pm - Hotel du Quai Voltaire, Paris, France
It’s a little room with a slightly peeling blue wallpaper. The door man is distracted, the furniture old, there’s an old smell, the bathroom’s small, but I’ve never been in such a magical, foreign place that feels so much like home. In the car here, after passing the Notre Dame, I started crying. Every detail up to the room made me cry more. I started physically sobbing in the room. It’s the feeling of reuniting after long distance. I can’t shake the feeling that I know and love this city. I usually dislike cities. The thought of leaving Paris makes me homesick yet I've been here 2 hours.
When we were driving here in an Uber, I was talking (poorly) to the driver in French. The driver clapped when we were confused. These people are my people. At dinner, a group of rude, loud English-speaking tourists came in. I subtly shook my head at the waiters and they caught on. These are the weird personality things I do.
I’ve never connected with a place so much in my entire life. I feel like I’m coming home to a previous life. I love the weird, classic art on the walls. I love this small, magnificent room. Everything is perfect.
I don’t understand why I’m so emotional. It’s one of the strangest things I’ve ever felt, like when I thought there was a ghost of a child in my Savannah dorm. I don’t know. Life is weird, but one thing is for sure. I’m super happy.
Day 12 - Corey’s Entry - October 6 - 1:21 pm - Train from Paris to Lyon, France
40 hours in Paris. We made it count. What an incredible city full of inspiration, beauty, and love. We stayed in the in Hotel du Quai Voltaire, Room 22.
Yesterday was our four-year wedding anniversary and a hard anniversary to top. We started the day at the Smith’s Bakery. As we ate, we watched the street lined with bakeries and sidewalks packed with small tables and artisan chairs. Busy Parisians bustled around and lounged in cafes alone smoking.
In the Notre Dame we lit candles. The arches in the halls were larger than I thought. I’ve read about the exact height and length of these structures in textbooks, but standing there in the center of it all changed my perspective entirely. There is so much extravagance, symbolism, and master work in every detail of these buildings.
We found a great way to get around the city. Big. Red. Bus Tour. It’s touristy but swiftly we navigated Paris.
We strolled down the Champs-Élysées while constantly humming the song “Champs-Élysées.” We stopped in Ladurêe Paris for the world’s best macaroons. I’m not fan of the macaroon, but to see Emily so delighted was a treat.
We went to see an exhibit of Irving Penn, one of my favorite American photographers. I love his “lived in” style of still life. Not simply a nice plate with beautiful food. It’s scattered bits, lipstick on the glass, half eaten, and in the moment. Second, it’s inspired Emily and me to do more personal projects. Penn shot for Vogue who sent him on assignments just for inspiration. We should always be creating, sketching, and shooting. Hell, Penn photographed commercially till he was 91! Photographers and artists never really retire. We create until we die.
It started raining as we dined in a nearby cafe eating our croque monsieurs. Another espresso and we were off to the boat. Slowly, we cruised down the Seine, the clouds parted, and sun began to set. Golden hour on a boat tour through magical Paris.
Our night in Paris started off with a bottle of champagne at Le Caveau du Palais. It’s located on the same island as Sainte-Chapelle. Our waiter Youn and Emily decided that night he would speak English and she would speak French. It made for amusing dinner scenes. After the best risotto I’ve ever had, we downed some Irish coffee and stumbled to the Louvre courtyard. We danced, wandered around, and peered in the glass windows. The night became quiet. As we walked through a stone arched hallway holding hands, a lone cellist began to play a romantic tune. We slowly danced. I gave him several quid.
As we headed home, the Eiffel Tower lit up and sparkled like a firework. It does this every night for only five minutes. Perfect timing.
We wound down the night with two glasses of fine Cognac at the hotel. We discussed life, art, and ourselves. I absolutely love good conversation over fine liquor.
Day 12 - Emily’s Entry - October 6 - 1:28 pm - Train from Paris to Lyon, France
Paris was one of the best times ever. Yesterday was one of the best days of my life. After a restless sleep, we got ready and headed for a petit-dejeuner (breakfast). We went to the Smith Bakery. I savored my tarte de pomme with cappuccino, Corey his salmon quiche with espresso at the small sidewalk table.
Walking through the mysterious, artistic masterpiece of architecture that is the Notre Dame, I felt small but safe under the towering columns. Chapels, relics, masterpieces, tombs, and secrets run a lap around the main worship space.
We hopped on a double decker tour bus. I’m not a fan of seeing them, but in a huge city, tour busses really are a great way to see the city and get to the sites we want. Our ticket included a double decker boat tour too. We saw old buildings, people on bicycles, and street merchants selling things from antique books to antique junk.
We walked the infamous Champs-Élysées cheerfully eating colorful macarons and around L'arc de Triomphe de l'Étoile that Napoleon built as a focal point of huge parades.
We saw the Irving Penn exhibit at the Grand Palais des Champs-Élysées. He was a NYC based fashion, still, and anthropological photographer. He shot for Vogue and himself in New York, Africa, and South America. We were inspired by his techniques and thought of ways to build our own studio better. We came up with a shoot idea about working people we will photograph in an homage reflective of his own style.
We got back on the bus until the Tour de Eiffel. France has a ton of security right now. We had our bags checked before the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, the boat ride, Sainte Chapelle, and the Grand Palais. Soldiers walk around with full army tactical gear carrying machine guns. It’s a safe but uneasy feeling that reminds us of pre-World War II.
The Eiffel Tower took us high above Paris. We felt the tower sway a bit! Yesterday was also was our 4-year wedding anniversary. We drank champagne on top of the Eiffel Tower. Is there anything more romantic?
We ate a late dejeuner at a nearby cafe. Two croque madames with wine and the best espresso I’ve ever had. It began to rain as we ate. We really like each other.
We walked to the tour boat. When the rain stopped, we went to the open top deck. Bridge after bridge passed overhead. Paris has 37 bridges over seine. Crazy! The sun came out as we ended the ride back at the Eiffel Tower.
To the hotel, all dressed up, then out to dinner. I let the waiter order for me. A huge, delicious steak with potatoes and bearnaise sauce came out. I’ve adored the French people I’ve interacted with.
We walked back to the hotel slowly, through the courtyard of the Louvre as the full moon lit our path. We peered into rooms with large Roman statues. A cellist began to play in an ancient corridor. We danced and held each other. The Eiffel Tower shimmered, something it does for 5 minutes at full dark. I can’t believe we saw it happen. It made me think of French cinema, which is similar to American films, but there is always one surreal, magic thing.
This morning after breakfast, we fulfilled an art history dream of mine. We visited the mind-blowing Sainte-Chapelle royal chapel. It was the royal family’s secluded chapel walled from regular citizens. The windows are depictions of every book of the Bible in masterwork stained glass.
This was part of a 23 day journey through Iceland, France, and Spain. Didn't catch the rest? Click below to explore with us!
Lyon
Day 13 - Emily’s Entry - October 7 - 5:03pm - City Square, Lyon, France
I’ve heard French people love to protest. One guy in a loud group told me, at first in French, then English that they were the left side protesting the right side. In another language with people I don’t know, it all seems so silly, left vs. right, compared to the problems in the U.S. right now. I shy away from being political. Corey and I saw a group march through the street, for what? They yelled toward them fists up, for what? I’m not sure I really care.
A few girls came up and interviewed me about what a monster is and who I thought was a monster. I told them I don’t like to say because any answer would make me a monster to someone I love on either political side. I told them monsters are made by perspective.
Day 13 - Corey’s Entry - October 7 - 5:50 pm - City Square, Lyon, France
Lyon is so different from Paris. There wasn’t much police presence when we arrived in Lyon yesterday afternoon, but police are everywhere now. There are at least six officers on each bridge covered in riot gear with massive protection and police vans patrolling all the streets. It’s strange, because the overall atmosphere is calm.
Emily and I were walking downtown when a small group of people began to run down a street. Soon after, a larger group appeared following them. Sirens went off. They group began to yell and run with raised fists. We held hands and made our way away from the groups towards the river.
We were told the French really like to protest. The train station was nerve racking with a loud protest marching around creating a large scene. I’m not sure what they were upset about, but they were banging huge drums and made it hard to focus on our surroundings. I know the train stations in France have been terrorist targets lately.
Last night I ate a pig’s stomach at this amazing restaurant.
Lyon is such a beautiful city. The light here falls perfectly onto the architecture.
Emily and I hit up an Art Store for sketching supplies. Then we sat at a cafe and sketched various scenes. It felt right.
Walking around Lyon, I’ve felt like a local, besides not understanding what anyone is saying. I just feel like if I had to hide away or get away. Lyon would be nice.
Day 14 - Emily’s Entry - October 8 - 11:16 am - Train from Lyon to Nice, France
Something keeps taking hold of us on this trip. Maybe it’s all the espresso or wine. Oh, we’re definitely not getting tattoos on this trip.
When we got to Lyon and settled into our cozy AirBNB, I wanted to draw. I had to draw in college and it stressed me the hell out but that day felt different. We found an art supply store. There must be in art school in Lyon. I bought a sketchbook, large rainbow pencil, and sharpener. Corey got the same with a charcoal pencil. I sketched scenes all day as a study of form. They are rough, some quick, some slow, but I like them. You can see how long I spent somewhere by the detail. For work, I constantly set up scenes with food, objects, and people. Sketching helps me pay attention to what natural is.
Dinner in Lyon is an affair. The 1st night, we went to Restaurant Chez Mounier. The best restaurants are always packed. We wandered into a place I had heard of. We somehow got the last table near the door. I should have made a reservation! Our waiter Julian was charming! The head chef ran in and out of the kitchen. She seemed to know most of the people dining. It seemed only the coolest people dined there. We couldn’t understand anything on the menu so we had Julien order for us. Corey was adventurous. I said no liver. I ended up with a sausage, egg, cheese type souffle for an appetizer, so delicious. My main entree was a gorgeous and mouth-watering quenelle, a poached creamed fish mixture quickly baked into a creamy red sauce. I’ve never seen or had anything like it. Corey’s main dish was a pig stomach. He ate it all, but no way I’m that adventurous. Then cheese, we weren't ready for this cheese. Maybe one day our palettes will develop but not quite yet. Chocolate brownie in a white sauce to die for.
Last night, we ventured hungry through the windy, small streets. We smelled our way past dozens of incredible, cozy restaurants. I picked a spot we could get into. We were sat at a small table on the street a foot away from the neighbor table. So French! We dined on Salade Lyonnaise, delicious mystery soupe du jour, sausage, salmon, wine, more wine, bread, bread pudding, and chocolate mousse. The older 4 people to my right were lovely. I asked if one lady was a model in French (one of the few schmoozie phrases I know). English speaking Corey even made them laugh. I still had my rainbow pencil and sketched on the paper placemat. I drew Corey between courses. Corey drew me. We made friends with Elo and Natalie, the girls 1 foot away. Elo spoke a little English, I spoke a little French. Corey no French, Natalie no English. We were a funny 4 talking broken Frenglish. The jokes took a while to land.
I felt like Anthony Bourdain, wandering the delicious, windy streets of Lyon, eating too much incredible food, drinking never enough French wine, and somehow making friends despite language and cultural barriers.
I hate speaking in definatives, but it’s true that if you can’t feel inspired in France, you’re not creative.
I expect Nice to be a relaxed, wealthy beach town with sunny skies and great seafood.
This was part of a 23 day journey through Iceland, France, and Spain. Didn't catch the rest? Click below to explore with us!
Nice
Day 15 - Corey’s Entry - October 9, 2017 - 12:30 pm - Lou Kalu, Nice, France
15 days into our trip and I think we’re feeling it. Sore feet and odd travel hours. Nice is different than what I imagined. It’s touristy and has more military patrolling than I’ve seen anywhere else. These guys are all decked out in military gear walking in a diamond formation holding huge assault rifles. The cigarette smoke ever wafting around has finally gotten to me.
The architecture is amazing and amusing. The shutters on the windows in the alleys are picturesq. Sometimes, the shutters are masterfully painted on next to windows.
The pebble beaches and narrow alleys were fun to explore.
For the first time on this trip I feel a bit homesick. On our 100 day road trip I didn’t miss home, I guess because we didn’t have a place to go back to or that LA never really felt like home. Now that we’re more established, I’m excited to get back to work and to my life in Chattanooga. BUT there are more towns to explore, rocks to turn over, and sights to see.
Day 15 - Emily’s Entry - October 9, 2017 - 12:36pm - Lou Kalu, Nice, France
Nice reminds me of St. Augustine, Florida near where I grew up. It’s old, colorful, once occupied by Spain, and kitschy. It’s hard to get a local feel when most of the people I see are not local.
We’re going to spend some time at the gorgeous beach then stick to the narrow streets of old town.
Our AirBNB host told us there was an LGBT party below our balcony. He was right. Our balcony overlooked the most fabulous French drag show I’ve ever seen. Around 11pm, the music volume outside turned up and someone had a mic. A male Katy Perry in a white gown with a large sequin bow was singing. The huge crowd cheered, filmed, and smiled at her. I had to go downstairs and shoot this late-night, narrow street, halogen-lit, fierce fashion show. I couldn’t understand a lick of the descriptions by the French host of the evening, but I gathered there was a lady badass, lady glitter fab, lady in red, lady Katy Perry, and a lady classic. It reminded me of summers partying in West Hollywood, CA. My friends in in WeHo would have enjoyed the show. I sure did.
Day 16 - Corey’s Entry - October 10, 2017 - 12:11 pm - Train to Arles, France
My mind wanders, drifts and contemplates as I watch the French countryside out of the window of this train. Is there such a thing as too much time to think? I start to question myself on completed thoughts. Do I really have it figured out? I think so. I haven’t had any epiphanies yet on this trip. I guess I’m an artist. I think creatively most of the time. I have technical skills. Emily truly embodies that of an artist. In her free time, if she’s not playing the an instrument, she’s painting or sketching. She dances through the streets and makes up these stories that are so creative. I love her mind, it’s as beautiful as she is. I think I’m hard to follow. I change, but she’s perfect for me because she understands.
I love to capture how light falls and to play with colors. I like to photograph people, though most make me nervous. Emily has wonderful ideas and I think I’m really good at motivating her and helping accomplish those ideas. We’re a team.
A medium in Cassadaga, Florida once told me I was afraid of my potential. That fear of success would hold me back. I think of that often, but I’m not afraid to fail. Failing to me isn’t the end of something as video games would tell you. It’s just another lesson and a great way to learn. Maybe I’m concerned with wasting time trying something that turns out pointless. Maybe that is the fear. I hate the idea of wasted time and resources. I guess that’s something I can work on. Take more risk.
“If you’re succeeding at everything you do, then you’re not taking enough risk.” - Jack Lupton, Coca-Cola heir, Chattanooga native who pioneered radical change the city desperately needed.
Day 16 - Emily’s Entry - October 10 - 3:08 pm - Train from Marseilles to Arles, France
We had to change trains on our way from Nice to Arles in Marseilles. Our first train was cancelled so we had to wait another hour in the train station. Last week two female travellers had their throats slit there. You could cut the tension in that train station with a knife.
Our train is stopped right now after 1 minute into our ride. Some conductor ran through and mumbled something in French. All I heard was “Sécurité.”
The train is moving now.
Corey and I are stressed. We have super big imaginations. I don’t know. I’m listening to Taylor Swift to calm down.
Everyone looked in each other’s eyes asking, “Are you the enemy?”
4:02pm
Let’s continue our story in Nice on the rocky, sun-soaked beaches. The shore did not have sand but smooth, grey stones. We laid down and fell asleep in the Southern French sun almost immediately. Corey ventured into the cold water for a bit as I lazily watched. He’s so handsome. Some people on the beach chatted. One older couple sketched. A few women sunbathed topless! If everyone was topless, I might have too.
We walked around town. We got espresso and chocolate cookie gelato in the closest town square. An older lady told Corey he looked nice. He did look great! I’m lucky!
On our way to dinner, we dance walked in the streets and sidewalks like we were part of a ballet. I’ve always thought in another life Corey and I were dancers together. As we dance-walked, someone I didn’t see brushed by and whispered in my ear, “Bonsoir, Mademoiselle.”
This was part of a 23 day journey through Iceland, France, and Spain. Didn't catch the rest? Click below to explore with us!
Arles
Day 18 - Emily’s Entry - October 12 - 9:21 am - Train from Arles, France to Barcelona, Spain
Oh, you know, just country hopping. Let’s see: here are a few things and phrases I learned in France.
Peu - small amount not petite. Most of the time I was telling people I know a small French instead of little French.
Ça va - I thought I was asking “How are you?” I was saying it wrong and talking gibberish to every person, like every person. Man, I tried.
Pizza toppings - I can kinda recognize vegetables and kinds of ham now.
All French wine is good. We know because we drank all of it.
Sud is south, ouest is west, nord is north. Don’t expect me to be able to pronounce it all.
Beautiful French rivers and bridges seem to never end. The lovely people appreciated the little French I attempted to know. It’s a country I’d love to visit again and again. She breathes with fire and liberty, constantly looking for the next step out of the ancient ways right after this pinot and last cigarette.
Arles was enchanting. It’s a sleepy, old town where Van Gogh painted 200+ paintings. Picasso also frequented the historic city. We ate dinner at a local, outdoor cafe where we came up with the idea to go to New York City in the spring or summer for 5 days, rent a studio for 4 days, and hire models to shoot and experiment lighting a series of nudes. I don’t have any social motivation or specific ideas about the shoot yet, but it’s out of our comfort zone and an exciting challenge.
Right now on the train, I can hear people speaking in French, Spanish, and two older British women trying to figure out basic Spanish phrases. I’m glad to know some basics in Spanish, and I know my accent is way better than French. French is hard!
Riding through the French/Spanish countryside in beautiful. It reminds me of Monet and Van Gogh. Tall evergreens overlook golden fields.
In Arles, we visited a 2000-year old Roman built theater and colosseum. Over the millennia the colosseum has been used for gladiator fights, as a fortress, as the town center, and now for bullfighting. I imagine the roar of a blood-thirsty crowd as I walk from a dark hall into the blinding light of the arena.
We walked along Le Cloître Saint-Trophime. Reliefs donned 12th to 14th century romanesque and gothic corridors depicting Biblical stories.
Life moves too quickly. Before, I knew it Iceland, France then Spain. Before I know it, home again. The only moment that matters is this one and what we do in it.
We visited The Fondation Vincent Van Gogh Arles. The theme in the museum was how Van Gogh made many of his pieces by forgoing his wealthy life to live the life of a peasant so he could relate to the common people. They had some seriously lazy shock art to see before seeing the Van Gogh. One “exhibit” was just a tent made out of tarp. Making “art” about the common man or lower classes, which can only be understood by someone with at least a B.F.A. is a paradox. Van Gogh’s art can be appreciated by anyone. It takes you away to that feeling in a moment in a place. It’s a shameful thing to exploit a subset of underprivileged people who may not be able to afford to see, understand, or even read the explanation behind your work. I told Corey, a joke isn't funny if you have to explain it.
We ate sandwiches by the river on the sidewalk. We watched the water and talked about what makes art good. I think art needs to be emotional and/or functional. The emotional part is where art varies for people. We all connect with different things. Imaginations vary, so does context.
We visited the 4th century AD Baths of Constantine. It was a public place to bathe for the masses. We found out Arles was a Roman capital in the early centuries AD.
We ended our tour of Arles at Le musée Réattu. It’s a large, old house on the river full of masterpieces. The main exhibit featured the works of Jacques Réattu from the late 1700’s. The works had to do with Greek and Roman ancient tales of Gods and political figures. They placed the pieces next to other masterworks of same scene painted in the same year with preliminary sketches of the subjects bodies and clothes. I love seeing the similarities and differences two masters create. One work we saw was half completed.
11:31 am
We just crossed into Spain!
12:08 pm
I’m glad I have a home that is so wonderful I miss it. Life is pretty good in the states. We have a good company, family, friends, puppy dog, and the future looks good in this moment. I am grateful to have a wonderful home to miss.
As a human, I am glad to have the understanding of being a stranger. In the states, it’s easy to dismiss people who don’t speak the language or understand our seemingly basic social rules. Is it too Kerouac to say the following? To understand the stranger, you must become a stranger. I practiced French everyday for 4 months, the best I could, even if I just practiced with a phone app and Scout. With all of that effort, I found myself with the same speech as a 2-year old who knows the word for wine in several languages. The whole the time, I wasn’t even saying “I speak a little French” right.
I so appreciated the people who had patience with me and treated me like a person instead of a dangerous or pestering stranger. I tried to be polite, follow the rules, and not make a fool of myself. I wasn’t able to communicate the thing I wanted or tell a joke or say the things that would relate me to another person. I did know how to talk about my dog. That was nice.
Day 18 - Corey’s Entry - October 12 - 9:28 am - Train from Arles, France to Barcelona, Spain
We’re heading to Barcelona, which is currently in government conflict as Catalonia is trying to become an independent nation, so there’s that.
Arles was a quiet quaint town, just as I imagined. Small town vibes. Restaurants close whenever the owner feels like it and everyone seems to be okay with that.
I had no idea there was so much Roman influence in Arles. We walked through ancient structures some built in B.C. and the 4th century. I’ve never climbed something so ancient, well that’s not true. I bet some of the rocks in America are older.
Before embarking on this trip I thought I would experience all these epiphanies, especially in Arles, the city that inspired Van Gogh and frequently visited by Picasso (he favored the bull fights). Like in Iceland, no radical, life changing moments. I don’t need one! I’ve gathered new ideas and picked up bits of inspiration everywhere we have travelled. That’s what I needed. To step back from the canvas and take a deep breath. I feel I’ve found what I was looking for and I feel ready to get back to work.
We have new ideas for our studio, future projects like the Penn inspired photoshoot and traveling to New York. I now have ideas of what I need to improve in my life and career. I won’t go into it all.
Arles was a wonderful town to wind down France. I’m glad I got to see an original Van Gogh and wander the narrow cobblestone streets. We also sat by the river Rhone with our lunch. Emily played with my hair as I laid in her lap.
This was part of a 23 day journey through Iceland, France, and Spain. Didn't catch the rest? Click below to explore with us!
Barcelona
Day 20 - Corey’s Entry - October 14 - 1:02 pm - Barcelona Train to Madrid
I don’t know if it’s that Barcelona has been a terrorist target recently or the Catalonia vs. Spain conflict that has the locals so furrowed and impatient, but locals do not want to talk to us. Uber is not allowed and taxi drivers are the best option. If they aren’t ignoring your attempts at conversation, they are turning up the radio over your personal one. I feel for these people though. They so desperately want something that Spain is not giving them. They want to be heard. I’m sure the exhausting droves of tourists coming to Barcelona every day has worn on the locals. Even Emily got some undeserved glares in response to her bright greetings. The city feels tired and divided.
Regardless of all the negativity surrounding the city we managed to make the most of it. Barcelona has some of the best sangria. After we had two pitchers at lunch, I declared it. At a beach hut, we watched immigrants selling tapestries, trinkets, drinks, and even massages! Pretty people tried to look good while tossing a frisbee terribly into the sand. Mostly though we watched other people relax and take a break from life.
We visited the Picasso Museum where we got to see his early work. He was only 14 when he painted masterworks. I sincerely appreciated walking through and watching an artist struggle to find himself.
That night, we had dinner at Restaurante Hofmann. On our third dessert with a bit left on the plate our waiter, Eric, came to our table. He looked at the plate and said firmly, “Not finished” then walked away. I looked at Emily and we laughed as if he had said” No, you’re not done.” Though we were full, we finished it. Every bite. You had to order dessert at the beginning when you ordered your whole meal because it took at least an hour to prepare. These were the most creatively plated desserts I’ve ever seen. One dish had cranberry sauce in a small sugar glass. As soon as he sets the plate down, he knocks it over with a fork shattering the sugar glass spilling the sauce over the plate.
Day 20 - Emily’s Entry - October 14 - 1:12 pm - Train from Barcelona to Madrid, Spain
The thing I’ve realized about Spain so far is that, from my opinion, it is a very serious country. People in France are playful, fun, and passionate. They appreciate a well-timed knowing wink. Spanish history includes a lot of exploration, Catholicism, and well-implemented rules, which have created a culture of serious citizens who have great pride in their people and country. I have many questions about Barcelona.
The people I’m sure are lovely, but anytime I had my camera out, I received glares and scowls. To be fair, let’s talk about this: SO. MANY. TOURISTS. Barcelona seems to have as many tourists as Paris or New York, but the city is not nearly as large or well-equipped for these extra people. The tour bus had a long line. We had to wait for 2 busses before getting on. Everything you might want to see required a ticket booked days ahead of time, even the churches! Barcelona needs more stops or museums for people to pour into. I definitely get the feeling of being unwanted here. I don’t know. When traveling, people, remember to be respectful, keep it to a dull roar, and to pay attention to local social rules you don’t know yet. People who don’t do these things ruin it for everyone else.
We arrived in Barcelona on the National Spain Day, you know, the day Columbus valiantly discovered and conquered the Americas. Don’t get me started on ol’ Chris Colombo. Anyway, it’s a huge day of pride for Spain, which is interesting because right now Barcelona and the Catalonia region of Spain are trying to secede from Spain and become Catalunya. Graffiti around town reads “Stop Fascism.” It’s a whole thing.
So back to the national pride day
in a city that doesn't want to be part of the country.
that celebrates the country’s conquer of other countries, which they no longer control.
Otherwise, Spain Day is pretty fun! We went to the Parc de la Ciutadella. Tons of people were out gathering on the lawns, picnicking, some smoking weed, groups bicycling, families headed towards the zoo in the park! We wandered to the center fountain designed by the young Antoni Gaudí. People took paddle boats onto the small ponds as they waved at the ducks and geese. We walked from the park along a pedestrian road toward their Arco de Triunfo. Performers set out their hats for coins. We saw bubble artists, an amazing paint can drummer, old-fashioned photographer, and a one-man band. One performance that stood out was a couple with 5-foot wide metal hoops they stood in and spun around while doing tricks. I’ve never seen anything like it.
We caught up with my old friend Sam Mason I haven’t seen in 8 years! We were camp counselors together. He’s working as a crew member on a yacht docked in Barcelona until February.
On our second day, we wandered into a beautiful, old Catholic church. Morning light from open windows high above poured into the church lighting up figures in the inner sanctuaries in a heavenly fashion.
We headed to one Gaudí Museum. It was sold out for days. We headed to the Sagrada Família. It was sold out for days we learned after getting on and off a crowded bus and slowly pouring through crowds. We decided to walk through town.
Did I tell you while walking to the Reykjavik airport to leave for Paris, I fell and rolled my ankle? Sometimes it acts up while backpacking around. Anyway, so we walked through the city. We passed a bullfighting ring. One man sat waiting for people who wanted tickets. Not one tourist there. I don’t know why I didn’t realize matadors kill the bulls at the end of a bull fight. So sad. There’s a general push toward banning bullfights in Spain. I heard one person say, “People don’t want to see scared animals run for their lives anymore.”
We happened on a large, local market. People sold all kinds of things. They gave us go-away-tourists glares. It’s cool...
We made it to the coast and down to the restaurant Les Deliciosos. So good. A fantastic beach cantana. Croquettes, nachos, 2 hours of my ankle elevated, and 2 pitchers of sangria later, Barcelona was wonderful again.
I’m having a slow allergic reaction to what I’m sure is a spider bite. Real cute.
That night we went to the Picasso museum. We were able to snag tickets for 6pm. It was amazing. We saw his early works. His early sketches and process of finding himself. Apparently, the museum closes at 7pm. They shooed us out without apology or warning at 6:45pm. They hate tourists it seems. We were ¼ way though. Cool.
We took a taxi to the incredible Restaurante Hofmann. Spanish wine, mooze bouche, mushroom carpaccio with panko fried egg yolk, deconstructed lobster ravioli, honeycomb fig dessert, the most incredible tiramisu I’ve ever had. The waiter shattered a sugar glass at the table of currant sauce for us to dip our creme brulee filled flash fried rice paper vanilla crisps in. Amazing.
This morning, we visited Park Güell designed by Gaudí. The park is famous for his modernista style designs and surrealist influence. Gaudí’s buildings look like where mermaids live. They remind me of the first science fiction films, which were more of scenes like from mythology such as Poseidon and his emerald kingdom. Gaudí masterfully utilized broken tile to create colorful, rounded sand castle-like houses, villas, and performance spaces.
This was part of a 23 day journey through Iceland, France, and Spain. Didn't catch the rest? Click below to explore with us!
Madrid
Day 22 - Emily’s Entry - October 16 - 1:32 pm - Terraza El Ancla, El Retiro Park, Madrid, Spain
We’re sitting at a park cafe at the largest park in magnificent Madrid overlooking the large central pond. People are paddling row boats. People are walking past. Somalian street vendors ran by with their sacks of goods. Police soon followed. A clarinet player plays middle eastern ballads. A man sells bracelets. A pigeon finally settled on his lightpost. A ram in a gold cloak waits for money to do whatever it is he does for turistas.
Madrid is a wonderful place to end this journey.
Day 22 - Corey’s Entry - October 16 - 8:01 pm - Sports Bar, Madrid Airport, Spain
The journey comes to an end after a few good days in Madrid. An excellent city to finish up the trip. We have spent these last two days wandering around the city and exploring the culture. The energy from Barcelona to Madrid is very different. Though the Spaniards are still pretty serious, they seemed to be in better spirits in Madrid. One of the restaurant owners told us that everyone who comes to Madrid is a local.
It was my first time visiting a royal palace. It had like 2,500 rooms? Most of them were for a single purpose like dressing, waiting, reading, deciding, ruling, picking out dishes, dying, etc. Each one was decorated differently, though most had holy paintings adoring the ceilings. We made our way to the Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum. Amazing pieces of work. We got to see up close artworks from Thomas Cole, Picasso’s cubism, Degas’ ballet scenes, Monet’s dream like impressionisms, Dali’s twisted sense, and discovered a few new artists.
On our last day, we left our huge bags we’ve named Big Yellow and Lumpy in a coffee shop where they hold bags for travelers. We took our other bags Baby Blue and Lima Bean with us. We wandered around the huge park and reflected on the trip. I wanted to learn and understand different cultures, and I think I definitely have a better understanding than I did before. Things can often be tough, but acts of kindness can be found around the corner if you look. America has her problems, but she is beautiful, wonderful, and wild. Just be nice and treat people with respect and kindness. It’s not that hard. Europe has incredible history, massively ornate cathedrals, grand cities and quaint small towns. I’m lucky to have traveled through these lands and spend some time. There’s so much more to explore.
Day 23 - Emily’s Entry - October 17 - 9:48 pm - Shuttle from Atlanta, Georgia to Chattanooga, Tennessee, United States of America
I can travel the world or stay in my living room until the end of days. As long as Corey is by my side, I am Home. He is my walls, my comfortable white noise at night. I can go anywhere, do anything or nothing with my constant. I’m glad to always be Home.
He’s dozing off in the seat next to me as the streetlights go by.
We’ve baaed at sheep, lived in a van, walked the Champs-Élysées, seen the Eiffel Tower at night, drank great, cheap wine, danced with French drag queens, were stressed in a train station, walked the streets of gladiators, kings, and artists, talked endlessly about culture, art, and why people are the way they are, sketched, and loved each other. Pretty great trip.
This was part of a 23-day journey through Iceland, France, and Spain. Didn't catch the rest? Click below to explore with us!
