18: Porto, Finals, and Farewell

It has come.  My very last Portugal post.

What a strange thing to realize.  Yes, I've been in the United States for about two weeks already, but I can't believe that, with this last blog, so officially ends my time abroad.  But before I get all sentimental and weepy on you, first let me tell you about our second official "culture tour" of Portugal.  Ana Paula strikes again!

Amy and Ana Paula in front of the Torre

So Ana Paula hadn't been very aggressive about scheduling our second trip around Portugal.  As opposed to our stellar trip to Viseu, this next one was only to be a day trip but finding the time proved to be pretty challenging for her.  Though, to be honest, scheduling was a little tricky: both Amy and Tatiana had their boyfriends visiting before the semester ended, and finals were looming ahead.  Finally we settled on Saturday, May 28th, despite the fact that all three of us had a 10-page paper due in Ana Paula's literature class three days afterward.

Inside the Igreja dos Clérigos

That morning, we met up with the University bus driver, who drove us across the river, where we picked up Ana Paula at her apartment (apparently she gets diva treatment).  We all managed to fall asleep on the ride to Porto, as we had been up working on our papers (and/or procrastinating into the wee small hours of the morning) the night before.  Our tour of Porto started right in front of Porto's famous Torre dos Clérigos, where Ana Paula bought us tickets and promptly left us to climb the tower alone... which was just fine with us.  The tower's passageways were tiny inside, which made climbing up to the top both fun and claustrophobic.  The views from the top were amazing.  I felt almost as though we should have done the tower last in our visit, not first: seeing the entirety of Porto from its highest point seemed to be a good summary for the trip, not a good introduction.  After we descended the tower, we entered the huge circular Igreja dos Clérgios, which was absolutely beautiful and full of fantastic saint statues.  I don't know why, but I absolutely love those wooden figures.  Perhaps it is because our home is completely and un-Portuguese-ly devoid of such figures (and I'm sure my mom is very proud of this fact).

Lello & Irmão

Ana Paula was waiting for us outside the church, but we took a quick detour from Ana Paula's planned day and visited a old beautiful bookstore Lello & Irmão.  Amy had recently visited Porto with her family, and she told us about the bookstore and, of course, we all desperately wanted to visit.  We weren't allowed to take pictures inside, but I found a few great pictures online here and here.

University of Porto

We walked back to Ana Paula, passing the University of Porto (the first and oldest university in Porto), before getting back into the bus and heading over to the Sé do Porto, a great old church with a museum with old relics and priest's ornamental clothing, etc.  After exploring the cathedral, we hopped onto a tour bus that whipped us, and quite a few American tourists, around the city and its sites, churches, and monuments.  There was a pretty good audio tour that played in several languages throughout the tour, so I actually had a pretty good time on the hot tour train, though I don't remember much about the buildings in my pictures.  

Sé do Porto

The front of our tour "train"

Good thing I paid for this disgusting thing myself.

After the tour finished, we (meaning Ana Paula) decided to wander the streets of Porto to find a place that served francesinha, a kind of sauce-drenched meat sandwich for which Porto is famous.  Ana Paula ordered for us and again waited until after the meal to inform us that we were paying for our own meal.  Her boyfriend Francisco then met up with us and made a point of correcting every error in our Portuguese, which was delightful.  Oh, Ana Paula, you lovely woman.


Our "day trip" was basically over after our 9 Euro lunch.  We walked back to the bus and drove back to Coimbra, where Tatiana and Amy fell asleep again and I took embarrassing photos of them (as only one's best friend should).  Once we finally got back home, we weren't too upset that our day trip was only a half-day trip.  We had quite a lot of work ahead of us and hadn't been too enthusiastic about the trip in the first place.  When I return to Portugal, I am definitely going back to Porto again and really visiting.  I still haven't been able to get to many places in the north of the country, so Porto, Braga, and the Douro Valley... I'm coming for you!


Exams suddenly took up all of our time.  I finished the paper half an hour before it was due (it takes a long time to translate a paper properly!) and slipped an English and Portuguese version under my professor's door.  Thankfully, my History exam had taken place the week before (which I recently found out I totally aced), though that also meant that I had to venture forth into exam period without being able to enjoy my favorite class.  But the rest of my exams went rather smoothly: Composição/Língua Portuguesa went well, and while I was extremely nervous for our oral exam for Conversação/Laboratório, I was paired up (miraculously!) with Amy and had a great conversation with our professors about acting, theaters, and film (though, of course, I know nothing about these three things...).  Our Geography exam was a little difficult, but I could not be too worried about it.  How could a class that only started half-way through the semester really matter?  I did very well on all of my exams, though I'm still waiting on news about my paper. Wish me luck!

Amy and I in traje with Tatiana. Love!

Our exams were finished by May 31st, but I only had one day to finish packing up before my flight.  This was made a little more difficult because, at the last minute, Amy and I had bought the official Coimbra traje, or student uniform.  Well, technically, Amy brought me along to the Toga shop and bought herself a complete uniform, and while I had adamantly decided that it wasn't worth it and I didn't need it, I tried on Amy's uniform and immediately fell in love.  Hours after we visited the uniform shop, we returned to buy another one.  We decided that we were going to wear the traje on our last night out in Coimbra, which was commonplace for students.  We often saw Coimbra students in their uniforms in bars and clubs, so we certainly didn't stick out.  That night, we dressed ourselves in our jacket, skirt, shirt, tie, tights, and a cape that, as I found out at the airport, weighed 3 kilograms by itself.  But it was completely worth the price and the hassle.

Oh Dom Pedro's, you never fail to be creepy.

And what a great night we had.  Decked out in skirt and cape, Amy and I headed to good old Dom Pedro's with Tatiana, her boyfriend Laurent who was visiting from France, Dan, and Barbara.  In true Dom Pedro's fashion, the restaurant was empty and Mr. Dom Pedro was awkwardly friendly.  When he found that it was my last night in Coimbra, his friendliness escalated into straight up creepiness: he asked Laurent in French if I had a boyfriend, then proceeded to get his camera and had Dan take a picture of the two of us.  Thankfully he left early that night and he wasn't our waiter for long.  Apparently he is going to email me our picture together, and if I ever do receive such a picture, I will definitely have to change my email.

Fight to the Death!

Thankfully, the night only got better after that very strange dinner.  We stopped back at our apartment, where we drank some wine and sangria before proceeding to the Shots bar, which was empty, even for a Wednesday night.  We visited several bars that night, stopping at the Luis Camões monument to take pictures atop the stone lion, then went to the Academica bar, then back up to Sé Velha and its Cabido Bar.  Laurent and I even had a Ninja Showdown in the middle of the square, which I, of course, won.  Late that night, we finally got back to the apartment, where I caught a few hours sleep before getting up early that morning to catch my flight back to the United States.

Alex emerges VICTORIOUS!

The day of traveling that followed is only further proof that I should never ever travel by myself.

That morning I stuffed the rest of my things into my suitcase and, with Amy's gracious help, met a cab at Sé Velha at 7:30 AM with my two 50-lb suitcases.  The cab driver took forever getting to the train station, so by the time we arrived I had missed my train.  Thankfully another train was heading to Porto 45 minutes later.  Once on this new train, I set the alarm on my phone just in case I fell asleep on the way.  Of course, I did and of course, probably for the first time in Portuguese history, the train arrived early.  I woke up, looked out the window, and saw the Porto train station.  I rushed up to the front of the car and struggled to get my suitcases out of the train in time, but just as I reached the doors, they closed and the train began to scoot out of the station.  Terrified, I tried to figure out what I should do.  I had no idea what the next stop would be.  I was already later than I should have been, and I prayed that I wouldn't miss my flight.

Ten minutes later, the trains stopped in the town of Famalição, a place I had never heard of before.  I got out and dragged my suitcases to the station proper, where I called my mother at 5 AM her time.  Eventually we decided that taking a cab was the best solution, and so into a cab I went.  It was a 40 minute, and 40 Euro, cab ride to the Porto airport, but I arrived in time to check my bags (one of which was too heavy, so I ended up walking through the airport with my computer bag, purse, and cape slung over my shoulder), find my gate, go through "Portuguese customs" (where they glanced at my passport and waved me through), and catch my flight just as they were boarding.  I was exhausted, but no matter how hard I tried I could not fall asleep.  Instead I watched three movies (The Fighter, Tangled, and Love and Other Drugs) to pass the time.  When we finally landed in Newark, NJ, it was about 8 PM my time and 3 PM American time.  Bordering on delirious, I checked my phone as I left the flight and found out that my connecting flight to Washington, DC was cancelled.

The next flight was at 7:45 PM, four hours later, but by the time Continental was able to actually get a crew for the plane, the flight had been pushed back to 9:25.  This, mind you, was a mere 45-minute flight.  In the time I waited around the airport, I could have driven back home by car.  My contacts were struggling to leave my eyes, my mind was basically asleep, and my only pleasure was the sassy dialogue between a delightful (and extremely disgruntled) gay couple who had been waiting to get to D.C. since 2 PM that afternoon.  We finally boarded the plane and got on our way, though one last strange thing had to happen: trapped on that tiny plane, I was finally nodding off to sleep when the man next to me, happily asleep, accidentally let his arm slip and slammed his elbow into my side.  Feeling as though I had been punched, I stared incredulously at him as he continued to sleep quietly beside me.

My parents were waiting at the airport when I landed.  Finding me standing deliriously next to the baggage claim, my mother's first words to me were, "Welcome home!  You look terrible!"  We collected my bags and brought them to the car.  Waiting in the car was my father as well as a Chipotle burrito.

I love my parents.

I love these people.

And so I was back at home.  It took a few days to remember that most people speak English here in the United States.  The day after I got back, my friend Eric and I went to a Subway and I almost jumped in surprise when the girls in a booth next to us began speaking in English.  Even now in New York City, I find myself saying "Com licença" instead of "Excuse me" when I am moving through a crowd.  Though, technically, my neighborhood doesn't speak too much English either.  I live in Washington Heights (for you theater people, yes, the neighborhood that inspired the musical In the Heights), which largely Dominican.  I don't hear too much English when I am walking around the neighborhood, and several times a few of my neighbors have assumed I speak Spanish and seem a little confused when I answer in Portuguese.  I am strangely proud that many Heights residents think I speak Spanish though.  I really need to start learning my other peoples' language, and this might just be the perfect opportunity.

My Room in NYC

So now, I am in New York City, the most iconic American place in the world despite the fact that few actual Americans seem to live there.  And while I truly and honestly love living here and working here (my internship is absolutely amazing), I do still miss Portugal.  Yesterday, as I was traveling between the office and the theater, I decided to try and find a cafe.  There are several things that I truly miss from Portugal, and the plethora of cafes and the subsequent cafe lifestyle is definitely one of them.  I finally found one and inside I saw they had a Segafredo coffee machine.  These were extremely popular in Portugal and just the sight of one of them made me so happy.  

I miss the food in Portugal.  I miss my family in Portugal.  I miss the city of Coimbra and the wonderful friends that I made there.  I miss speaking Portuguese every day.  And while I am happy to be back in the United States, I truly cannot wait until I can return to that wonderful little country.  It is true that Portugal is far from perfect, and I really do feel as though it is mine in a way.  I will always think back fondly on my semester there.  Always.

But now, it is time to focus on my new and very different life in New York City.  I will probably be starting a new NYC Blog sometime soon, and if I do, I will post a link here so that you can follow along with my crazy adventures.  I've only been here for two weeks and already so much has happened!

But, until then, thank you for reading my humble little Portugal blog.  I hope that my accounts inspired you to either want to go to Portugal if you haven't already or want to return to my favorite little European country. 

Vou ter saudades sempre para ti, Portugal.  Te amo.

One last question: Is my flag big enough?

17: Leiria and My Wonderful Family

As I'm sure you know, I'm back in the United States already.  I still had two more posts planned for this blog, but unfortunately after my previous post my schedule got rather hectic:

First, there was exam period, where I suddenly had quite a lot to review and study and a 10-page paper to write on the book "Eurico, o Presbítero" and how it reflected Portuguese Liberalism during the 19th Century.

Second, there was the very short period of time after exams that was dedicated solely to packing and saying goodbye to the amazing people I met while abroad.

Third, there was the few days I had at home when I finally got back to the United States, which were filled with unpacking for Portugal, seeing friends, and repacking for New York City!

And now, for the past two weeks, I have been running around the island of Manhattan for my internship with an off-Broadway production company AF Productions, which is currently producing "The Magdalene: A Musical" at Theater at St. Clement's this summer (shameless plug, I know).

Though through all of this business I have literally thought about closing up this blog every day.  But such work requires two blog posts, I believe, and so I will start the first one now with my travels with my family at the end of my semester:

So to say that I was nervous to encounter my family is a grave understatement.  I was absolutely petrified to see them, though not because they are in any way unpleasant but because I did not want to make a fool of myself with my terrible Portuguese.  I'm sure you all remember my first meeting with my cousin, which left me completely disheartened about any sort of language skill I formerly thought I possessed... and now it was time to confront these insecurities again.

The first meeting was only a day trip to Leiria that I mentioned in my Queima das Fitas post.  Amy and I took a bus on Saturday morning and met with my tia (aunt) Arminda and tio (uncle) Joaquim.  Tio Joaquim is my grandfather's brother, and they recently moved back to Portugal after moving to the States in the 1970s.  Tia Arminda might be the only one of my great-aunts and -uncles, either in Portugal or the United States, who speaks English very well, so I figured that if my Portuguese completely failed, at least I would be able to get by speaking with her in English.  That being said, I was still completely terrified.

Tia met us at the station and started speaking to us in English right when we got off the bus.  I felt relieved but also a little embarrassed.  Did she assume that we wouldn't be able to speak to her in Portuguese?  After introducing Amy, she walked us around downtown Leiria a little bit and then brought us into Zara, which is like a much nicer European H&M.  Out of nowhere, Tia told me and Amy that she would get us something from the store as a thank you for having come to visit her.

How could I have been scared of coming to visit my family?  This was only the first of so many moments of kindness and generosity.

It was a surprise, after we finished at Zara, to find out that we were meeting my Tio Artur (my grandfather's youngest brother) and his wife Tia Gabbie for lunch as well.  When we arrived at the restaurant, the Portuguese began... and it was completely fine!  I understand the vast majority of what they were saying, and with Tia Arminda sitting across the table from me, it was easy to clarify a sentence or ask for vocabulary.  In true Portuguese fashion, my family fed me as if I were supposed to have the appetite of three teenage boys.  By the time we left the restaurant, I had eaten soup, duck, potatoes, vegetables, a bowl of fruit, and more bread than you can imagine.  And this was with my refusing quite a lot more.

For reference

After lunch, we wandered around the city of Leiria, which is about halfway between Coimbra and Lisbon.  The county of Leiria is actually where most of my family is from.  My cousin and her family still live in the little town where my mother lived before emigrating.  It really is a tiny little place, and when I underwent my language placement test at the beginning of the semester, the professora told me that she in fact knew Tojal and told me it that it was no wonder my family left as the town of Tojal was a miserable place to live.  What a very pleasant woman.

Inside Sé Leiria

We stopped at a cafe, where the tios and tias had café and Amy and I drank galões (thrust upon us of course, as we were still too full to move properly).  We then hiked up the hill, passing Sé Leiria, a beautiful catedral, on the way to the Castelo de Leiria, the ruins of a 12th Century castle that was partially reconstructed in the 1970s.  Tia Gabbie even bought me a book about this castle after hearing about my interest in medieval history and ruins.  She stayed behind at the entrance though, as there was quite a lot of difficult climbing in and around the castle.  We rambled over the rocks and through the little passageways.  From the top of the towers you could see a magnificent view of the city of Leiria, both old and new.  I definitely fell in love with that little city while I was there.  As much as I love Coimbra and Lisbon, Leiria is the birthplace of my family and I was proud to be from a region with so much beauty and history (more on this later).   Tia Arminda told me that she was happy to come up here again: she hadn't visited the castle for more than thirty years.

View from Castelo de Leiria

Pastéis de Leiria

After the castle, we visited a cute little museum that was dedicated to visual movement.  Along with quite a lot of old cameras and video equipment, they had a really neat display of optical illusions.  My tios and tias seemed to enjoy that exhibit a lot.  After the museum, we traveled back downhill and stopped in another cafe, where my aunts and uncles bought us Leiria's famous pastries.  It seems as though all cities in Portugal have some sort of "special dessert," though they are all some variant of egg, flour, and sugar.  These were pretty good, and seeing as Amy and I enjoyed them, my family made us eat three before we left.

Tia Arminda, Tio Joaquim, myself, Tio Artur, and Tia Gabbie

After the pastries, we hopped into Tio Artur's car and drove over to a church on the edge of the city.  I can't remember its name (alas, what happens when I wait too long to blog) but it had a special legend about the numerous steps that led up to to the church.  There the tios and tias showed me the new hospital, which they had spoken about several times throughout the day already, and another great view of the city.  There we took pictures together and then hopped back into the car.  They wanted to show me Batalha.

Amy and I outside o Mosteiro

Pastéis de Batalha

I had visited Batalha when my family came to visit Portugal in 2008, but I was excited to go back.  The monastery there was definitely one of my favorite places in Portugal.  Unfortunately by the time we arrived, the Mosteiro de Batalha was closed to visitors, so we (in true Portuguese fashion) found a cafe, sat down, and had yet more coffee.  My aunts and uncles ordered Amy and I the special pastries of Batalha, of which I do not have fond memories.  Whether it was the amount of food and pastry I had already consumed that day or the strange texture of the pastry that made my entire body want to reject those pastries from Batalha I do not know, but I struggled to get those down and I think Tia Arminda noticed.  By that time, Amy and I were both slipping with our Portuguese.  We hadn't spoken English since before lunch, and our brains were exhausted.  Of course, Tio Artur's son Ricardo, with his wife Inês and son Tómas, who was just as tired as we were, came to meet us.  I had never met them before, as they weren't available when we visited years before, but they were very nice and their son might have been the cutest little boy I have ever seen.  But I'm afraid my language skills probably didn't impress them too much.  Exhausted and all Portuguese-ed out, Amy and I didn't have much to say after they arrived.  It didn't help that the conversation changed to real estate and economy either.  Soon it was time for Amy and I to get back to Leiria to catch our bus back home, so we all left the cafe, scrambled into the car once again, and jetted back to the station.  It was good that we did too, as the bus that we thought left at 8:30 actually left at 8:15, and we were just able to grab our bags and jump on the bus before it left.  My aunts and uncles lined the street and waved as our bus pulled out.

It was a fantastic day, and I was happy to be able to see them the next weekend as well.

I took a bus that next Friday afternoon to Leiria, though this time a few things had changed: 1) Tatiana was accompanying me this time, 2) I was set to be in Leiria for the entire weekend, and 3) I was not only visiting with Tia Arminda and Tio Joaquim, but I was also going to visit my cousin and her family from Saturday night to Sunday afternoon.  The butterflies returned, but I remembered my day in Leiria all too well and was much more excited than I had been before.

My pile of shrimp shells

When we arrived in Leiria on Friday, Tia Arminda and Tio Joaquim were waiting with Tio Artur and Tia Gabbie.  They were excited to bring Tatiana and I to some sort of seafood restaurant outside of Leira that Tio Artur loved, but when we arrived, it was sadly closed.  So we continued driving south and ended up in Nazaré, a fantastic beach town that I had visited previously.  Nazaré is divided, with part of it on the top of a high cliff, and the rest sprawled out down the hill and around the beach.  We went to a great restaurant on the higher area of Nazaré, where Tio Joaquim taught Tatiana and I how to shell shrimp both with our hands and with utensils, and Tio Artur told a very racist joke about Chinese food.  After dinner, we strolled over to the edge of the top part of the town, where we could see the beach and the rest of Nazaré at night.

Back in the car, Tio Artur drove us to the lower part of town, where he and Tia Gabbie had an apartment.  We stopped at their place, took a tour, and left with two large bags of chocolate.  Their apartment building is right on the main stretch of beach, so we walked down along the board walk for a little bit.  It was starting to get late and Tatiana and I were already pretty tired, but we still several other places to visit before we were able to sleep.  We drove back to Leiria, where we stopped at Tio Artur and Tia Gabbie's house there and took another tour and received a cake.  Then they drove us back to the bus station, from which Tio Joaquim and Tia Arminda drove us to their house outside of the city.  Somehow we were dead tired but my aunt and uncle were wide awake.  We passed some sort of fair along the way and Tia Arminda seemed to be entirely genuine when she asked if we wanted to stop by.  Tatiana had fallen asleep in the car at that point, so we decided to go ahead and get home.

Now, Tia Arminda and Tio Joaquim's house is like a mansion.  It's seriously one of the nicest houses I have ever seen in my life, and it is all built with money that they earned while working in the States.  I didn't have much time to admire it again when we arrived though.  Both Tatiana and I practically passed out as soon as we finished helping Tia Arminda make our beds.  We had gone to a river beach in Coimbra beforehand, but we were too exhausted to care that we smelled like river water.

Fatima

The next morning, we showered, ate some fruit and some of Tia Gabbie's cake for breakfast, and then drove to Fatima.  For those who don't know, Fatima is probably the holiest place in Portugal.  In 1917, the Virgin Mary appeared several times to three Portuguese shepherd children.  Of course, no one believed them for a very long time and, as Tia Arminda said, they suffered quite a lot.  I won't get into the whole story of it all, but I'll link the Wikipedia article here.   Now, it is a huge sight for pilgrimages and it is safe to say that 90% of Portuguese households have at least one statue of Our Lady of Fatima somewhere in their homes.  This was my second time at Fatima, but it was still amazing.  The complex is absolutely huge, with a huge cathedral on one end opposite another more modern church.  Between is all paved with white stone, with several smooth pathways for pilgrims to crawl on their knees toward the site where Mary appeared.  She originally appeared under a tree to the three children, and the tree is still there.  However, its been moved a few feet away from its original position, where a chapel with the figure of Our Lady of Fatima now stands.  I love this place because as soon as you enter the complex, you can feel that something very special happened there.  When she appeared, Mary also gave the children three prophetic secrets that foretold the upcoming World War I, the conversion of Russia, and the attempted assassination of a future pope.  The third secret was withheld from public knowledge until Pope John Paul II was almost killed in 1981.  Now there is a statue of JPII there whose toe is already worn with the touch of thousands of people.

We went into the cathedral, which is lovely inside.  The three children are all buried next to the altar, though I don't remember Lúcia, who became a nun and died in 2005, having been buried there yet in 2008.  Tatiana and I visited the official Fatima shop, where I finally got my Portuguese Bible, and then we left the complex and wandered through the maze of gaudy religious shops before Tio Joaquim picked us up and we went to have lunch.

After lunch, Tia brought us to the Grutas de São António, these fantastic underground caves near her hometown.  We were the only ones there, so we had a great time with our tour guide (who Tia Arminda instructed to only speak in Portuguese).  The caves were absolutely gorgeous underneath, and it was a nice break from the heat.

Inside the Monastery

After the caves, we returned to Batalha again.  This time, we were able to visit the inside of the church and monastery.  I didn't know previously, but my grandmother both went to school and was married there.  We visited the church, where King João I, Queen Phillipa of Lancaster, and their (kinda famous son) D. Henrique and his siblings are buried, then went into the cloisters, where we witnessed the changing of the guard ceremony at Portugal's own Unknown Soldier grave site and visited a small museum about the Unknown Soldier site.  We then passed behind the monastery to visit the unfinished chapels, where the touching grave of D. Duarte and his wife are forever holding hands.

Grave of D. Henrique (Henry the Navigator)

The Cloisters

Anyone remember "Timeline" when they see this?

With our Galo necklaces

After our visit, we met up with Tio Joaquim and Tia Gabbie again.  I had noticed a few people in the monastery dressed in period clothing before, but it was only when I got back outside that I realized that Batalha was hosting a Medieval Faire that weekend.  We wandered around the booths and watched a few musical performances.  One of my grandfather's old friends runs a souvenir shop near the monastery and gave me a little pendant of the Galo de Barcelos for free, which was so nice of him.  Tia Gabbie then bought me a chain and since then I continue to wear my Galo every chance I get!

Musicians at the Medieval Faire

My time with my aunts and uncles was drawing to a close, however.  We dropped Tatiana off at the bus station and then headed to Tojal, where my cousin (recently back from Hungary) and the rest of her family was waiting for me.  We arrived a little late to dinner, which only made me a little more anxious about the coming day-and-a-half.  But after saying goodbye to Tia Arminda and Tio Joaquim, I joined my other family for dinner.  At the table were my two cousins, Joana and Ana Rita (who acted as my translator throughout dinner) and Joana's boyfriend Tiago.  Then there was my uncle and my Aunt Maria do Carmo, who is my mother's cousin.  Her parents were also there: my great-aunt, or my grandmother's sister, and my great-uncle, or my grandfather's cousin.  Very confusing stuff, right there.

Speaking with this side of the family was much more difficult than speaking with my other tios and tias.  Perhaps it was because they had a stronger accent, but I found it very difficult to understand very much of what they were saying.  I had special trouble with my great-uncle, whose accent was impossible for me to decipher.  But my aunt Maria do Carmo was so nice and was very concerned that I like everything she had made for dinner (which, of course, I did. It was delicious!).  After ice cream, Ana Rita had to leave for a late shift at the club at which she worked, and I found out that Joana and Tiago were going to bring me out that night and visit the club.  Once I was just with them, though, I felt much more comfortable.  Tiago was playing The Killers (his favorite band) as he drove us back to Leiria and was very pleased that I was a fan.  We visited a Middle Eastern-themed tea shop which specialized in a whole bunch of flavored teas before heading over to Ana Rita's club.  It was pretty early so it wasn't very crowded.  We didn't stay too long either: Joana and Tiago had gone to the beach early that morning, so everyone was pretty tired.  Tiago dropped us off at Joana's house for the night.

Joana and I at Nazaré

The next morning was gratefully lazy.  We got up and hung around the house for a little bit.  I ate breakfast with Joana while my aunt continued making lunch.  I watched a little TV, got on the computer.  Ana Rita, who had obviously worked very late, got up just in time for lunch.  Tia Maria do Carmo had made chicken AND bacalhau for lunch, as she wasn't sure if I liked bacalhau or not.  After eating basically two lunches, we hung around the house a little bit with Ana Rita.  Tiago came by and we drove back to Batalha, where we explored the on-going Medieval Faire again.  After some coffee, we returned to Tojal, grabbed our beach stuff, and headed out again.  We stopped by a local assembly-type place, where Tia Maria do Carmo was already busy cooking for a party that night.  There we borrowed my uncle's car and drove to Nazaré.  It was a long drive, and by the time we got there it was already late afternoon.  We lazied around the beach for an hour or so before driving back to Tojal, changing for the party, and then heading over to the community party where I met quite a few new faces and ate dinner.  The food was delicious, of course, and after dinner my aunt and uncle told me that they would be driving me back to Coimbra themselves, as Joana was heading back as well for a summer internship.  Unfortunately Joana didn't live close to the University at all: instead, her apartment was across the river in Covões, where the hospital and medical school is located.  After dropping off her stuff, we headed back into the heart of Coimbra.  Despite my protestations, they all wanted to walk me all the way back up to my apartment.  I felt so bad, as of course my uncle wouldn't let me carry my suitcase myself.  After the long hike uphill, we said goodbye and parted ways.

Sadly I wasn't able to see my cousin after that, even though she was much closer.  Right afterward, finals began.  The next time I was able to contact her was a day or two before I had to leave, and she had work of her own that she couldn't abandon.  But I did have her and Ana Rita promise that they would visit the States as soon as they could so I could show them around MY home country.  Plus, they paid for everything when I was with them, and I need to pay them back! 

And thus ends this account.  Now THAT was a long post!

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!