11: Birthday Week and Viseu

Now for the second blog of the day.

Birthday Dinner!

Fresh off the plane from Barcelona, I arrived in Coimbra just in time for the week of my birthday.  I absolutely love birthdays and am positive that I will continue to love them even when I get much older (what's not to love about a day celebrating to your very presence?).  For me, I tend to include the week surrounding my birthday as part of the celebration, and it was pretty easy to celebrate like that this week.  Somehow two very fun events were planned for the two nights before my birthday: Tuesday night was French/Belgian night, complete with champagne and free French fries, at a local club called "Duplex" and Wednesday night featured a midnight futebol game, where the Erasmus team, which included several friends of mine, played and lost to vicious Italy.  Then, of course, there was our trip to Viseu which began the day after.

Empty Dom Pedro's

But of course, all week I waited anxiously for Thursday morning.  March 24th, and I was finally 21 years old!  My last milestone birthday until the not-anxiously-anticipated 30th, and I had a fantastic day.  We only had one class, but since a university-wide strike was in effect that day, few students showed up and it barely counted.  I then got dressed far too early for my birthday dinner, watched my favorite movie (When Harry Met Sally, in case you were wondering) and then went to dinner with several friends at the infamous Dom Pedro's around 8 o'clock.  The owner was, of course, escatic to see us and, upon finding out it was my birthday, not only gave me beijinhos but took pictures of our dinner party both on my camera and on his own camera, to post on the Dom Pedro's Facebook page (how did I not know this existed?).  He was very adamant about taking high-quality pictures and it took about ten minutes before he was satisfied and returned my camera full-loaded.  Of course the restaurant was empty so no one was there to witness the blatant favoritism, but it was still highly awkward and hilarious.  But the awkward is only part of the charm and I still love that restaurant.  The owner even gave me a free half-bottle of wine on which he had written the date.  We had a delicious meal and my friends refused to let me pay (though I still should have contributed...), and then we headed out on the town. 

My Dom Pedro's wine

Mom, I know you aren't going to want to read the next sentence but: we drank quite a lot.  My friends and I hoped around Coimbra, meeting up with more people. Despite my insistence on staying out, my friends eventually broke me back to the apartment so I would avoid the probably copious amounts of trouble I could have gotten into.  Overall, a very good night and definitely appropriate for one's 21st birthday.

Out on the town for the big 21st.

Mom, you can resume reading.

Friday consisted of classes and packing, because we were leaving that afternoon with our program director for Viseu, Portugal.  This was meant to be a "viagem cultural," though in reality it seemed to have very little to do with the culture of Portugal.  Late Friday afternoon, Amy, Tatiana, and I arrived with Ana Paula and her boyfriend Francisco at Hotel Montebelo, a five-star hotel and spa.  I'm not saying I'm not grateful because the hotel was absolutely gorgeous and amazing, but was it truly "cultural"?  I think not.  This seemed glaringly obvious to us, especially when we spent several hours in the overwise empty spa, where Amy and Tatiana took turns getting massages while I hopped between the sauna, Turkish bath, and pool with Ana Paula, who was in a bikini.  Good.

One half of our giant room

I told you it was made entirely of ice...

That night, Ana Paula took us to the Palácio de Gelo, which is not a palace or castle but a mall in Viseu.  We paid for our own dinners in the food court, visited a few shops, and then went to the Bar do Gelo, a bar made entirely of ice.  This was paid for by the program, you know, since it is Portuguese culture.  It was rather neat though, despite the unflattering black jackets and the freezing temperatures.  We sipped vodka beverages with Ana Paula from cups made of ice while the bartender cursed us under his breath and pulled his hat lower over his ears (we were the only ones there).  After the ice bar, we returned to the hotel and slept in our beautiful room.

Ice seat at the Bar do Gelo Viseu

Buffet Carnage

The next morning we discovered the most amazing breakfast buffet known to man.  Any kind of bread you could want, pasteis de nata, cake, fruit, cereal, meats, eggs, vegetables, excessive amounts of jam, a whole leg of ham... and more.  We gorged ourselves before leaving with Ana Paula to visit Santa Maria de Viseu, a beautiful, dark, and slightly moist 12th century church in the center of town.  There we stopped in the Museu de Vasco Grão, whose name refers to a Portuguese painter that they highlight throughout the museum.  The museum had amazing amounts of religious art and sculpture from all around Portugal, and while I wasn't allowed to take pictures inside, I was amazed by the detail on the wooden sculpture.  It was actually mostly wooden, with very little stone.  They even had relics, which grossed my friends out: "Why would they want to keep someone's bone and touch them?!"  I guess it just makes more sense to someone raised Catholic... though I couldn't explain why anyone would want to do such a thing either.  :)

Inside Santa Maria de Viseu

After this museum we went into the church itself, which was beautiful.  For its age, it was amazingly preserved.  It was absolutely beautiful inside, though I could feel myself getting a little churched-out.  It was a lot of religious art to take in after such a short amount of time, and by the time we also explored the inside of the Santa Casa de Misericórdia across the street, both its chapel and museum, I would have been very happy never to look at another sculpture of Saint Sebastian pierced with arrows, Jesus on the Crucifix, or "Virgin with Child" for several years.  Though we left soon after to walk around and do a little bit of shopping, there was yet more religious art in my future.

Santa Casa de Misericórdia

When we tried to leave Misericórdia, it began to rain excessively and, with our umbrellas safely packed back at the hotel, Tatiana and I huddled under Amy's umbrella as we wandered the streets of Viseu and stopped in several cheap shops with Ana Paula, who seemed equally excited about the shopping as she did about the museums.  She even bought a pair of boots on sale and would intermittently proclaim her love for her "botas bonitas" for the rest of the day. 

Somewhere in Viseu

At the Tesouro: Isabel, patron saint of Coimbra

After our walk, we returned to Santa Maria de Viseu and went into the Tesouro de Catedral Museum, which would have been far more impressive if we hadn't spent all morning looking at religious art.  By this time, Francisco had joined up with us again (he had returned to Porto after driving us to Viseu), and we had a "culture lunch," which consisted of some sort of baculhau, some sort of other meat, and línguas de porco: pig tongues.  Oh yes.  And I can safely say that they were absolutely delicious, especially since Francisco seems to have taken a liking to me kept putting more and more tongues on my plate. It felt like he maid it his personal duty that I speak as much Portuguese around him as possible, correcting my pronunciation of "chávena," (which was appreciated) and making me recount the legend of the Gallo de Barcelos (which was not).  After that lunch, I was so full that I wanted to die, and Amy and Tatiana felt the same.  We returned to the hotel, but I couldn't nap the food away: it was time for my own massage.  While I would rather not go into detail about my very first professional massage, I will simply say that it involved paper underwear and a very friendly Brazilian masseuse.  At least she told me that I spoke Portuguese very well.

We wasted more time in the spa area, which all of the other residents of the hotel must have discovered that day, and glared at the French men in the jacuzzi until they left.  Then we returned to the mall that night, where Ana Paula and Francisco left us to shop.  We ate dinner in the food court around midnight (yes, the mall was open until midnight!), where Tatiana and I finally experienced "Telepizza."  This pizza company has been a source of amusement for us for some time as we often see their delivery boys on logo-ed bikes delivering pizzas throughout the badly-paved streets of Coimbra, but their pizza was absolutely delicious.  Mr. Pizza, you have competition.

TELEPIZZA

We also discovered a crepe place in the mall after Telepizza.  Thickest crepes I've ever eaten.  For the second time that day, I was too full to move, but somehow I managed to get back downstairs and hop into a taxi back to the hotel. 

CREPE

The next morning we returned to the magical breakfast buffet before packing and checking out of the Montebelo.  I been feeling a little sick throughout the entire week but, as it was my birthday week,  I had refused to let it interfere with my enjoyment of my 21st or this trip.  However, in what was probably a combination of the lack of sleep, amount of alcohol consumed, the mental exhaustion of speaking Portuguese almost 24/7 that entire weekend, and rain from the previous day, my cold came rushing on me that morning and I was rather miserable.  As we got into Francisco's car, I  thought we were returning right to Coimbra and was excited to get into my bed and pajamas, but that was not the case.  After a very curvy trip down tiny streets, we stopped in a town called Caramulo for their museum.  I only wish I felt better, but as I wandered through their very neat automobile exhibit and their World War II propaganda gallery, I was just not having it.  The top floor, which included a ton of religious art, didn't help.

Churchill Pot-luck vs. Hitler Humble Pie

Rolls Royce, my dream car.

We got back in the car to find a place to eat before returning to Coimbra, but it took so long to find a place that I ended up falling asleep in the car.  Ana Paula was dead set on eating sandes de leitão, which is a sandwich with suckling pig, and while we passed restaurant after restaurant advertising leitão, we didn't stop until we found one with a sign specifically with such sandes.  I'm not a huge fan of pork, but by the time we got our sandwiches I ate it so fast that I could barely taste it.  I had told them about our court's tradition of pig roasts earlier in the weekend, so they were very interested to know about the differences between our usual pig and the leitão.  Even though Ana Paula had ordered for us, this was apparently not a culture lunch and we had to pay for it. 

Frustrated and in debt, I got back in the car and, after some traffic, finally Amy, Tatiana, and I were back in our apartment.  We haven't left since.  While I still feel a bit sick, I can definitely feel my cold subsiding.  Viseu was a cute little city, but I am very glad to be back in Coimbra. 

And now, after several hours of blogging and uploading photos, I think its time to make some dinner. 

10: Barcelona

So sorry its taken so long to update this blog!  These past two weeks have been absolutely crazy.  Be prepared for two posts back-to-back.

So last weekend, March 18th - 20th, Amy and I took a trip to the beautiful city of Barcelona.  We chose that particular weekend to visit since Amy's uncles would also be in town.  One of them was a conductor in Spain for years and years, so he definitely knew his way around and could potentially help us with the language barrier (despite the fact that they speak Catalan, not Spanish, in that region of Spain).

We took a later flight on Friday night and arrived in Barcelona around 11 PM.  The airport was my very first exposure to the language of Catalan.  I was a little nervous about going to a city which didn't speak English, Portuguese, or Spanish (which, thanks to Portuguese, I can read a little bit), but Catalan wasn't too bad.  First, we only saw the spelling, which at first looked like badly misspelled Spanish and second looked like the love child of French and Spanish with a taste for the Portuguese "ç".  But thankfully each sign in Catalan had both Spanish and English versions right underneath. 

Tried to take a picture of the signs to BARCELONA but... alas.

From the airport, we hoped on a shuttle, then a metro, where I heard Catalan.  Honestly, I could not tell the difference between it and Spanish.  I don't speak either, but to my untrained ear it sounded exactly the same.  Hopefully when I learn Spanish in the distant future (that's the plan, anyway), I'll be able to go back and understand how it is different.

Common room in our hostel

When we finally arrived in our hostel, we were very pleasantly surprised.  This was technically the second hostel we booked.  The first had emailed me a few days before our flight to let us know that they could no longer accommodate us.  While navigating the poorly translated email, I came to believe that their water lines had busted and therefore their facility was down.  They sent us the name of another hostel, but we went our own way and found another cheaper one.  The new hostel, however, was really nice!  There was a common room area, a kitchen, and the dorms that we were staying in were very clean.  I had been a little nervous about staying in a dorm, instead of a private room, setting, but there was no problem at all.  We discovered the next morning that the furniture in the common room and kitchen was really bright, colorful, and clean.  They even served breakfast with toast, cereal, and knock-off Nutella.  What could be better?  We got up very early that Saturday morning to eat breakfast as soon as it was available and then set off toward our first sight, Sagrada Familia, with our purses zipped closed and held tight to our bodies: Barcelona is infamous for its pick-pockets.  Even though we were only there for two whole days, I am still getting used to not clutching my bag to my body protectively here in Coimbra.  Probably not a bad habit to have though, now that I think about it...

Passion Facade

We probably should have worked our way up to Sagrada Familia instead of starting with the most impressive site in all of Barcelona.  I absolutely loved this cathedral.  I don't know anything about architecture at all and couldn't name more than two architects even now if I tried (Gaudí and Christopher Wren, thanks to a previous excursion to England in 2008), but I can safely say now that Gaudí might be my favorite architect of all time.  When you enter the complex, the first thing you see is the haunting Passion Facade, with the story of Jesus' passion and crucifixion illustrated in stark boney statues.  Even the columns around the facade are shaped like bones - which, from our audio guide, was intentional.  Gaudí was extremely detailed and, though the cathedral is still under construction, he left detailed plans so that it will be exactly as he wished it to be.  I won't continue to recite the audio guide word-for-word, but every detail was conceived and perfected so entirely.  Amazing. 

Interior

After the Passion Facade, which is only one of the side entrances, we entered through huge copper doors. I won't lie to you: I almost teared up just looking up into the cathedral.  It was amazing.  My pictures don't do it justice.  Gaudí wanted this to be the perfect cathedral and it truly is.  I was so overcome with emotion as I walked down the line of pews and to the other side. 

Looking up at the stained-glass windows

The forest-like ceiling

There we took an elevator to the top spires, where you can see Barcelona spread out as far as you can see. 

The view from the spire

Jesus as a young carpenter

Back at the bottom, we exited through the other side: the Nativity Facade.  This was entirely different than the Passion Facade.  It looked like it was melting and moving, even though it was hard stone.  There were sculptures of the Holy Family, the Flight to Egypt, Maria visiting her sister, and even an image of Jesus as a young carpenter.  I got really emotional again here.  I was completely and inexplicably enthralled with the sculpture of Jesus as a young man.  It was so incredibly beautiful. 

Gaudí's workshop

In the gardens around Gaudí's home

We continued down into the museum, which details the on-going construction and shows Gaudí's methods, workshop, and burial place within the crypt.  Then we left the Sagrada Familia to go to Gaudí's Park Guell, a fantastic area which he had originally conceived to be a living facility for the rich but failed.  Now it is merely a park, with his home placed dead in the center.  We walked around the fantastical grounds and went into his home, which now contains various pieces of furniture that he designed for aristocratic families.  After posing next to the famous lizard statue, we took the bus to La Rambla, where Amy's uncles and their friend Peter were waiting for us in a little restaurant in an isolated plaza.  They graciously bought us lunch (which was fantastic, as I had been slowly nibbling at a Nutella sandwich in my bag to avoid buying food) and then walked us around the harbor area of Barcelona. 

Park Guell

The Lizard statue

The burnt ceiling of Santa Maria del Mar

Then they led us around the Barrio Gótica, where we visited several fantastic old churches (though they didn't come close to La Sagrada Familia).  Santa Maria del Mar was fantastic: it was internally burned during the Spanish Civil War when the church officials took the side of Franco, and you can still see the carbon on the ceiling.  We also went to the national cathedral, which was being renovated.  Outside some sort of cultural event was happening: hundreds of older people were dancing in large circles to a band.  As night fell, we parted ways with Jim, Tim, and Peter and had dinner in a Spanish restaurant (tapas included!) and returned to the hostel after meandering around the La Ramblas area and shopping.

The front of the Cathedral

The next morning we got up bright and early yet again and went directly to the Harbor area, where we revisited the Columbus Monument (and I made yet more lion friends)...

New lion friend!

... the Maritime Museum...

Shark friend at the Maritime Museum

Yeah, I know this is Portuguese, Barcelona.  Not obvious from the coat of arms or anything.  But don't label it.  It's cool. 

A model of an English ship that destroyed Spanish ships.  Derp.

... and visited the sights that we missed in the Barrio Gótica, like the Temple of Augustus: Roman ruins housed within the Barcelona Hiking Club (no wonder).  We met up with Amy's uncles during this time and they again bought us lunch (seriously, the most wonderful people on the planet) before they had to leave the city.  We continued walking around and visited the Viceroy's Palace, saw the outside of the City Museum (formerly a palace of Ferdinand and Isabella), and the Cathedral again (where the strange cultural festivities were continuing, now with dancing and a parade of huge statues of unidentifiable people from all different time periods... I'm guessing they are famous Spaniards but who knows?) then went to the Picasso Museum, which was very interesting.  It houses quite a lot of his earlier stuff, which is beautiful classic painting.  You would never connect these paintings with his famous later work, like Guernica.  I'm going to be a little snooty right now and say that I have a strange relationship with Picasso... as much as I appreciate what his originality, I rather dislike modern art and he definitely contributes to that whole movement.  But, at the same time, you can see just how talented he really was... Complicated.

Okay, I'm lowering my nose now.

After the Picasso museum, we decided to forgo a large dinner for a dessert tour instead.  We stopped in a small dessert place and got freshly made waffles (mine with caramel... magic), then McDonalds (where I got McNuggets and a purse-shaped Barbie notebook), and then churros with chocolate back near the cathedral.  Then it was back to the hostel, where I passed out. 

The most delicious waffle the world has ever known.

CHURROS

Early flight the next morning, and we were back in Coimbra that Monday afternoon.  I unfortunately missed my favorite class, History of Portugal, but my friend Dan was good enough to allow me to borrow his notes.  But truly, I would have missed several History classes for Barcelona.  What an amazing, amazing city.

Sorry this was written a little curtly... But now its time for me to start writing about my birthday week and "cultural trip" to Viséu!  Até logo!

9.a.: Vimeo of Lisbon and Paris

Hello everyone!

Nothing new really to report, but I did want to share this video that I made.  I have been known to make videos now and then, and I've made a few videos since I've arrived in Portugal.  You can find them all at my Vimeo account, which you can find by clicking the link below:

http://vimeo.com/user5623250

If you don't feel like navigating the Internet, then you can just watch my video about Lisbon and Paris right here:

Até logo!

9: Carnaval Holiday: Lisbon, Terror, and Paris

If any of you reading this have been bored by my recounting of classes and grocery shopping, this blog post is definitely for you.  Just be prepared for a pretty long account.

Ora and Portuguese food: Arroz de Marisco

This weekend was Carnaval in Portugal, but since we had both Monday and Tuesday off from class, my friends and I decided to forgo the Portuguese celebrations and travel farther out into Europe.  While we planned on meeting in beautiful Paris on Sunday night, the weekend separated all of us: Dan and Amy met Amy’s boyfriend James in London; Tatiana flew off to visit her boyfriend in a town outside of Paris… and I went to Lisbon with the wonderful Ora Star, who came to visit me during her spring vacation!  

It was amazing and surreal to have someone from home here, which is so different from Rhode Island and Maryland.  Ora arrived Friday evening.  I met her at the train station, forced her on a death march up the many hills of Coimbra to my apartment, and then we spent the night getting dinner and wandering around Universidade Velha and the riverside.  We passed out early to the melodious sounds of the latest Jersey Shore episode, and then woke up early that morning to catch the train to Lisbon.  

A Brasileira, where famous Portuguese writers and thinkers would meet and eat

Hanging with A Brasileira regular Fernando Pessoa

SATURDAY

Entrance of Sao Jorge Castle

Alex, Ora, and Lisbon

Our train arrived much earlier than we thought it would, so we called our hostel from the train station and they said that we could drop off our bags before official check-in at 3 PM.  We bought cheap day-passes for Lisbon public transportation (if anyone ever comes to Lisbon, this is the VivaViagem card is the greatest thing in the world) and did the first of three walking tours listed in my Rick Steves book (Rick Steves is the greatest tour guide of all time).  We went through the Bairro Alto and Chiado neighborhoods, which I remembered from my 2008 visit with my family, and ended up near the famous A Brasileira restaurant and a huge shopping center where Ora found her favorite part of Portugal: a Sephora and Starbucks right next to one another.  We hopped back to the hostel to check in after that, then walked through the Alfama neighborhood, which started at one of my favorite parts of Lisbon, São Jorge Castle.  We didn’t go in, as it cost too much money and we were both on a serious budget, but we ended up hanging out around the outer wall and surveying the shops around the area.  We also got free porto, or Port wine, though it wasn’t the most enjoyable experience.  I couldn’t tell if I just don’t have a taste for the strong liquor or it was just terrible, free Port.  I’m hoping it’s the latter or else I am failing at being truly Portuguese.  

Praca do Comercio and the Arc de Triumph

We walked around the Baixa neighborhood, which is definitely the most metropolitan area of Lisbon.  It has the most history anyway, with giant plazas like the Praça do Comércio with its Arch of Triumph, and all the new architecture that replaced the destroyed buildings after the 1755 Earthquake/Tsunami/Fire (Portuguese people have the worst luck).  There Ora also tasted her first small cup of ginjinha (which, though I sang his praises earlier, Rick Steves has wrong: You don’t say “sem/com elas” if you want fruit.  You just say “sem/com frutas.”  Nice and simple.  None of those messy prepositions.)  While I think she definitely enjoyed it more than the porto, I don’t think Ora will be buying a bottle anytime soon.

Pasteis de nata and galao

After that walking, we waited for the bus and went to Belém, which is kind of a separate district of Lisbon.  We got there pretty late, so it was rather dark and had started to rain, but we walked over to the Monument of the Discoveries and stood outside of the Monastery de Jerónimos.  We also went over to my mom’s favorite place in Portugal, a Casa Pasteis de Belém, who claim to have invented pasteis de nata (which I’ve mentioned in this blog before).  We ate two there and got two to go for the next day.  

SUNDAY

The next morning we went to the Gulbenkian, which was just as amazing the second time.  I absolutely love that museum, especially when I think about how every single beautiful thing in there was owned by one singular man.  It is all a thank-you from Calouste Gulbenkian, an Armenian oil tycoon who found refuge in Portugal during the Second World War.  He willed his amazing art collection to the country after he died to thank them for harboring him and his family.  Must see when you come to Portugal (because you should).

After the museum, we shot over to the train station to buy tickets to Porto, from which I was flying to Paris that night and Ora was flying to Madrid the next afternoon.  We ate delicious Chinese food at a huge mall-like complex near the station before riding the train.  In Porto, we tried to find the hostel where Ora would spend the night, but the hostel owner’s heavily accented English was more confusing than helpful and Ora ended up taking a cab while I got back on the metro and rode to the airport.

Despite causing a little bit of drama getting on the plane because I didn’t go to the check out desk (as I thought that, as it is in the US, one does not need to check in if they have already done so online… but this is Europe.  I keep forgetting), I boarded the plane just fine and turned off my phone in preparation for the flight.  Amy and Dan had flown from London to Paris that afternoon and were taking in the views from the Eiffel Tower as I was boarding.  That news would be the last I heard from them for about 12 hours.

We landed in Beauvais that night, and unaware that anything was about to go horribly wrong, I retrieved my phone and turned it on to text my friends that I had landed and would see them in a little over an hour.  However, when my phone turned on, it suddenly asked for a pin number.  I had no recollection of any such pin number, and after plugging in all the numbers I could think of and all the numbers I could find printed on and inside the phone, the SIM card blocked the phone and all information I had on it.  I had no way to look at my texts, which included the metro stop where my hostel was located, or my contacts, where Dan and Amy’s numbers were listed.  Walking to the shuttle which brought Beauvais fliers into the city, I decided that I would drive in, figure out the metro, and find my friends.  I allowed myself to get a bit hysterical on the shuttle, but when we pulled into the Middle of Nowhere, Paris, France, it was time to act.

By the time I arrived in the city of Paris, it was about 11:30 PM.  I’ve never been a particularly street smart individual, so how I managed to find the metro, figure out the machines which were stubbornly only in French, read the metro stop, and make a transfer to the metro stop I remembered from earlier, are all completely beyond me.  But at 1 AM, I exited the Voltaire stop and realized that, unless our room was directly overlooking the metro stop, I would never find them.  I wandered the empty plaza for a few minutes and then gave up.  

This might be the point where you might think, “Dear God, this 20-year-old girl is walking around a city at one in the morning, suitcase and travel book in hand and absolutely not phone or knowledge of the French language to speak off.  This is going to turn into a real-life version of Taken.”  However, I wasn’t completely lost.  The week before I had contacted Hayley, a Brown student I had only met once before at a party.  Her family were the hosts, and my godfather and his family were one of the many guests.  They had invited me along, and while Hayley and I had never seen each other before on campus,  we traded information about our study abroad plans.  I remembered she was in Paris while planning the trip with Amy and had sent her an email, and her response, which included helpful phrases, amazing sites, valuable advice… and her phone number, had been printed and put in a folder with the rest of my travel documents.  I went into a restaurant that was still open (that would have never been an option in Coimbra) and, through the miracle of universal hand signals, managed to borrow one of the waiter’s cell phones and call her.  By the grace of God, she picked up and immediately gave me the address of her friend’s house, where she was staying that night.  I took a cab and met them there, sent a mass-message on Facebook to everyone in my Portuguese program in an effort to somehow let Dan and Amy know that I was alive, and passed out on a wonderful make-shift bed.

MONDAY

Post-drama: In front of Notre Dame

The next morning, after not one response to my Facebook message, Hayley and I tried to figure out how to get in touch with Dan and Amy, who had no Internet access.  I realized that I had a small notebook in my purse in which I had written my landlord’s phone number and his son’s email address.  After sending an email to his son, Hayley graciously put credit on her Skype account and allowed me to call my landlord.  He and his son sent me Tatiana’s number, who I also called on Skype, and who answered the phone hysterically.  Dan and Amy had been texting and calling her all night just in case she had heard from me.  The theories ranged from plane crash to kidnapping, but after I assured her that I was completely fine, she was able to contact Dan and Amy and coordinate for us to meet in front of Notre Dame that morning. Hayley brought me there herself and waited with me.  I could not be more grateful to her and her friend Sarah.  They are truly the nicest people of all time.

Saint-Chapelle

The Pantheon

After that, the excitement of the day moved from anxious terror to excited amazement.  With luggage in hand, Dan, Amy, and I took copious amounts of photos of Notre Dame, Sainte-Chapelle (one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen), Place St. Michel, the Sorbonne, and the Pantheon (what I deemed to be France’s secular attempt at a Westminister Abbey type establishment, with their history painted beautifully across the walls and a crypt where many famous French thinkers, writers, politicians, and scientists are buried).   

The Sacre-Coeur

Coming out of the Pantheon, we met up with Tatiana and her boyfriend Laurent, both of whom were in the city for the day, and then parted ways again to go see the Basilique du Sacré-Cœur, which was amazingly beautiful and had such a good view.  Despite Dan almost punching a street vendor who tried to scam us, it was a perfect place to watch the sun set and take artsy photos of the Eiffel Tower in the distance.  After the sun went down, we went to the Champs-Élysées and had dinner at the classiest McDonalds I have ever been inside.  Afterwards we returned to the hostel and fell asleep to French-dubbed “Gone in 60 Seconds” And “Top Chef.”

Hamming it up on the Champ-Elysees

TUESDAY

The main Entrance to Versailles

The next morning we woke with the dawn (or 7:30 AM) in order to get to Versailles when it opened at 9 AM.  This was the biggest, most necessary thing I wanted to do during this trip, so even through the exhaustion I was completely elated.  Arriving in the town of Versailles was fantastic, and then turning the block and seeing the main entrance to the palace was breath-taking.  I can’t say that I have no words for the interior, because I have millions of words: amazing, wonderful, enchanting, incredible, beautiful, stunning… The list goes on and on. 

In the Hall of Mirrors

I often hear people comparing Western art, style, and culture to that of the East and using the “exotic” aspects of the latter to make it seem better and more sensual to the European way of life.  After living, studying, and visiting Europe, all that seems absolutely ridiculous.  European cathedrals are just as dramatic and gorgeous as Indian palaces and Asian temples.  Go to Versailles and Paris, go to Lisbon and Coimbra, and tell me that those places aren’t exquisitely beautiful, graceful, sensual, and magnificent.  If your views are still plagued by the legacy of European imperialism, you need to study history a little bit better.  Versailles was everything I could have wanted it to be, and the audio tour was comprehensive and wonderful (I especially loved the specific voices that would only read whenever they were sharing a specific quote from a specific French king or dauphin).  Despite the multitude of tourists, even that early in the morning, this was definitely the highlight of my trip.  I even loved the Japanese school girls taking jumping photo after jumping photo, their fingers making “V” For “Versailles”… that’s what I’ve decided, anyway. :)

The Travelers, reunited.

The gardens outside of the palace, while rather dead due to the time of the year, were amazing all on their own.  The amount of land there is incredible, and the gardens stretch out (it seems) forever.  A tourist can actually rent a bike to tour the gardens alone.  After failing to convince my friends to eat at a Tex-Mex restaurant, we ate sandwiches in the town and then headed back to Paris.  We again whirled around the city, visiting the Rodin gardens, the Army Museum, and the Orsay, which was sadly closed by the time we got there.   

Rodin Gardens

The exterior of the Army Museum

Awkward with the Sarcophagus of Napoleon

Rhino statue outside of the Orsay

After dinner at “Ming Dynasty,” which served sushi, we took a boat cruise on the Seine and took pictures of buildings like the Louvre, Notre Dame, and the Eiffel Tower at night.  It was absolutely beautiful.  After the boat tour we stomped around until we found a creperie.  Then it was back to the hostel and back to bed, because the next morning we actually did wake up with the dawn.

Customary with Eiffel Tower shot

WEDNESDAY

Checked out at 5:30.  Took the metro to the shuttle at Port Maillot.  We left there at 6:30 and got to Beauvais at 7:30.  We weren’t able to check in until 8 AM and didn’t find out our gate until almost 9:30, but soon we were in Porto.  We rode the metro then to the Campanha bus stop, had lunch in a nearby café (where we remembered how wonderfully cheap and broke Portugal is), and then left Porto for Coimbra at 12:52 PM.  We got back to our favorite Portuguese city just in time for Dan and I to run to Portuguese History at 2 PM.

All in all, I’d say a very good, busy, exciting, adventurous weekend.