13: Spring Break Part 1 - FLORENCE

Before I talk about my particular adventures in Italy, I first want to say that I have again failed to be a normal girl in my preference for romance languages.  French doesn't do it for me, and Italian just sounds silly.  Throughout my total of six days in Italy, every time I heard the Italian language, all I could think about was this:

Even Spanish isn't having the effect it used to... and I can't seem to tell the difference between it and Catalan... Maybe Romanian will impress?  Otherwise its just Portuguese.  I might be biased.

So it is safe to say that I easily resisted the charms of the Italian males, though whether they have very much "charm" is also something to be decided.  Here are my favorite pick-up lines that I heard while walking around Florence and Rome (in order).

1. Hey baby girl.  Wanna have my babies?
2. I want to know you.
3. OH MY GODDDD (though, of course, the "God" sounded more like "Got" with the accent)
4. Bella!/Ciao bella! (standard)
5. Hiiiiiiiii!
6. Hey baby!

Italian men were particularly adamant about showing their affection in Florence, where I was traveling with a few other girls.  Thankfully meeting up with Dan drastically reduced the amount of cat-calling.

I arrived in Florence via Bologna last Wednesday.  My friends had all left the weekend before to start their vacations earlier, but I decided to stay behind and maybe catch any classes that we would have on Monday and Tuesday.  Of course, all of these classes were canceled and I ended up doing quite a lot of reading.  One day I even went into seven different Chinese discount shops.  I also made a video a lá Paris, Je T'aime's "Arrondissement," which I will be posting sometime this week.  Safe to say that I was very happy to get to Florence and meet up with my friend Ora for some good human contact.

I arrived in the city rather late, so I didn't get much of a feel for Florence until the next morning.  Unfortunately Ora still had class during that week so she wasn't able to show me around much.  But that was completely fine, as her roommate from last semester, Melissa, was visiting her at the same time.  We were instant travel buddies and, with the help of the ever-helpful Rick Steves, we managed to see quite a lot on Thursday.

First view of the Duomo... nice.

After eating delicious sandwiches, Melissa and I headed into the historical area of Florence.  As we walked from Ora's apartment to the Duomo, the city suddenly turned into that mental image of what Italy should look like: golden houses, tiny winding streets, and suddenly: the most ornate church exterior I've ever seen.  Though it is known as the Duomo, its technically named Santa Maria del Fiore and was built sometime in the 1870s.  It was absolutely beautiful, with green and pink marble, statues, paintings... so beautiful.  Unfortunately I was wearing shorts so we couldn't go into the church that day.  We tried to walk in and were promptly kicked out by a very strict Italian security guard.  We checked out the Baptistery, where copies of Ghiberti's famous bronze doors replace the originals (which are now in the Duomo's museum).  The copies were still amazing though.  It's insane to think that they are basically two-dimensional.

The front of the Duomo

The side of the Duomo

Ghiberti's bronze doors

They weren't very wealthy...

After ogling the bronze doors, Melissa and I made it up to the Palazzo Medici-Riccardi.  I had had enough time away from the excessive amounts of palaces in Sintra and I was ready to see the interior of one belonging to one of the richest and most famous families in European history... and the palace was fantastic.  It was later owned by the Riccardi family (hence the name), who definitely were not strangers to wealth, and the interior showed it.  The Chapel of the Magi, which is instantly recognizable to anyone with even the smallest amount of art history knowledge (like me), was fantastic.  Inside there was also a ballroom with the most gorgeous painted ceiling I've ever seen and mirrors lining the walls, all of which were decorated with paintings.  Melissa and I definitely took advantage of the paintings and took, perhaps, the classiest Myspace photos known to man.

It would be weird to have this in my future house, right?

After the palace, we wandered a few backstreets and found the Casa di Dante, which was disappointing.  The tiny museum was expensive and crowded with excessive information about almost everything but Dante himself.  Oh well.  At least I can tell Mr. Healy, my high school World Lit teacher, that I went to the house where Dante maybe? probably? lived.

Actual Dante portrait though.

With a bit of a information-headache, Melissa and I continued our walk through Florence, passed the Orsan-Michele, and arrived in the Piazza Signoria, where the Palazzo Vecchio stands in front of the Uffizi Gallery.  We didn't go into either of these buildings: the palace because Rick Steves told us it wasn't worth it, and the Uffizi, which was far too close to being closed at that point to stand in the ridiculously long line.  We did pop into the Palazzo Vecchio's front courtyard and the outdoor statue exhibit, which houses the original Rape of the Sabines by Giovanni Bologna.  Very cool.

View of the Arno River from Ponte Vecchio

We then walked over to Ponte Vecchio, which was crazy crowded and full of GOLD!  We crossed to the other side of the river, had a coffee and received a free pastry, and then walked to the Piazzale Michelangelo.  From this square you can see all of Florence.  Definitely one of the most magnificent views I've ever seen in my life.  Photos seriously don't do it justice.  Looking over Florence like this might have been my favorite part of the entire trip.

Me and my travel buddy Melissa at Piazzale Michelangelo

After the Piazzale Michelangelo it was time to return to Ora, get dinner, and head out on the town.  All I will say about that night is that it involved too much tequila and I now owe Ora quite a few favors.

Lion Friend #1 of Italy.  

The next day, Ora borrowed a few of her friend's museum passes and we beelined for the Bargello, which was amazing.  The sculpture in that museum, which used to be a prison and police station way back when, was incredible.  Since we never made it to the Uffizi, this was definitely my favorite museum.  There, I made my first lion friend of my trip.  The amount of pictures I have with stone lions is starting to get a little strange.




After the Bargello, we went to an "American Diner" owned by a British guy named Valentino in the heart of historyical Florence... but it worked.  Best BLT I've ever had.  And then... things started getting a little strange.

First, there was San Lorenzo market.  I was pretty excited to go to there and find a nice leather handbag despite the fact that I always seem to be targeted in flee markets and other outdoor markets all over the world.  Apparently I look very gullible and scared, which somehow translates into possible profits for very adamant vendors who speak very little English.  I was purusing one little shop and found the perfect bag, though I was a little confused as to why the strap was so small.  A young Italian man came over to help me and seemed very confused as to why I wanted a larger strap on the bag.  After I explained about shoulder straps, he said to be very seriously, "But that's a man's handbag."  I almost laughed in his face and quickly exited the shop.  Oh, Italy.

However my buzz from this ridiculous moment soon disappeared.  I was still looking for a bag when a very friendly middle-aged Italian man came over and ushered me and Ora into his shop.  He was very adamant about the selection and quality of his bags, but after a little bit of haggling I decided I wasn't particularly interested.  Unfortunately he took this as a sign for further haggling and continued to lower the price until he suddenly blew up in a fit of self-important pity.  He started lecturing us on all the work that he does, all the designing and leather working and how all the other shops are copying his designs with lesser value.  He accused us of making him drive down his prices until he would basically make no profit and started pin-pointing Ora's bag, which she had bought in the beginning of the semester, as work far lesser than his.  Of course Ora wasn't going to let him talk that way about one of her purchases, and I just tried to slowly back away before he tried to show me another handbag.  After all his declarations of designing and quality, I thought it might be a bit rude to simply tell him I didn't like his bags enough to buy one.  We finally escaped and thought that our bout with crazy people was over and done with for the day.

And then Accademia happened.

The Galleria dell'Accademia is where The David (you know, just a little famous) lives, so of course we had to go.  Armed with the museum passes (which gave us free tickets), we went in and tried to get free admission.  At the Bargello, the ticket person had barely looked at the passes and given us tickets, but at the Accademia, the woman behind the studied the passes and proclaimed, "These are not you!"  Ora angrily insisted that they were ours, but the woman didn't believe us at all.  She even rejected Ora's, which actually was her pass.  Melissa and I tried to insist as well, but I am not actually Korean and Melissa did not have red hair, so our lies were pretty pitiful.   The woman behind the counter began screaming about how we were committing a crime, how we were stealing someone's identity (though we hadn't stolen a thing... we had been given their identities very freely), and suddenly yelled, "I'm calling the police!"

Of course we began freaking out, pleading with her to just let us pay for the ticket.  But she stomped out of the ticket booth and pulled aside a security guard, who looked at our cards and said thoughtfully, "Well these aren't you."  Yes, we had established that, Mr. Security Guard.  After quite a lot of arguing and yelling, the security guard finally convinced the ticket woman to just sell us tickets.  She practically threw them at us and we retreated into the museum.  We sat down, heads still whirling from our almost-arrest, when suddenly Ora leaned forward and said, "Oh look.  There's the David."  I don't know what it is about the statue that makes it so amazing, but I truly stood in front of it for ten minutes, mesmerized.  Something about the facial expression on that statue is just mind-blowing.  You think you know a work of art until you are standing right in front of it...  I wish I could have taken a picture but, of course, they want to sell lots of prints and postcards so that wasn't allowed.  The rest of the museum was just okay, though they had a pretty neat exhibit of gilded paintings.  The David was worth the drama and ticket price though.

I ate this entire pizza.  I'm not ashamed.

We walked back to the Duomo after that and began our food tour: First, we got some delicious gelato from Grom, and then headed back to Ora's apartment.  That night we trekked to Florence's best pizzeria and ate the delicious pizza in a rather sketchy park in a slight drizzle... and yet the pizza was still amazing.

Secret croissant

We returned to the apartment, napped, and then headed out again late that night to find a "secret bakery."  There are apparently several of these in Florence.  Our specific secret bakery is, by day, some sort of import/export business that bakes pastries at night and then ships them during the day.  The workers who have to bake all of these pastries so late at night are apparently very distraught by the unfair hand they were dealt (baking pastries for a living... rough), so they sell pastries at night through their backdoor.  At 3 AM, we got in a line in front of a close door, which a worker in a chef's jacket occasionally opened, took orders, and then handed out nondescript white bags full of croissants.  We had to pay in cash (no trace!), received our croissants, and then ate them as we returned to the apartment.  They did very well to distract us from the multitude of creepy Italian men.  What they did not realize is that a chocolate-filled croissant (or in my case, two such croissants) is far and away more desirable than their company.

Me with il Porcellino, who bares a striking resemblance to my dog.

Me and my buddy Machiavelli

The next morning was my last morning in Florence, so we got up super early and tried to go to the Uffizi but were conquered by a three-hour-long line.  Instead, we took pictures of the statues of iconic Italians outside the museum, got the best hot chocolate in Florence at Rivoire, and finally made it inside the Duomo, which was beautiful and very cold.  We also walked over to the Mercato Nuovo, where I finally found my leather bag and received lots of luck from il Porcellino, the iconic boar statue in Florence.  After a sandwich run, it was time for me to board a train for Rome... But first, a few more photos:

Locks from Lovers on the Ponte Vecchio

Inside the Duomo... so beautiful

I was a little obsessed with my new bag...

And thus marks the end of this particular post.  Far more fun times to come in the next one!  Roma!

12: Sintra: the Palace Tour

I'm going to start this blog on a bit of a somber note and talk about the current politics of this tiny little country.  Simply, Portugal seems to have a quality of changelessness about it.  No matter what is happening in the country or around the world, every day here is just like every other.  Several people have asked me recently, "How is Portugal dealing with their current economic crisis?" and its a little painful to tell them that they don't seem to care very much about it at all.  There are just as many people out taking two-hour coffee breaks.  There are just as many people in shops and grocery stores milling about.  The student life hasn't changed a bit: more parties, less studying.  There was even a university-wide strike to complain about the government cutting university scholarships.  It almost seems as if the people here don't really care to understand the situation or how it can be changed.  It reminds me of a film my Portuguese class watched back at Brown about the Carnation Revolution here, when Portugal finally rid themselves of the longest dictatorship in European history.  In that film there was a particular moment when the reporter was interviewing a woman about the changes.  But she didn't seem excited at all.  She said something along the lines of, "So we don't have a dictator now.  Who cares?  Nothing is going to change.  I'm still going to be poor, whatever government we have."  Has that mentality affected all of Portugal?  This sense of "Eh, what can you do?"  Maybe its just me missing Brown, but I would think that on a college campus there would be more outward feeling about such an issue than this passive acceptance.  If you are unaware of the situation, here's a quick intro article.  It's not the best, but the language on my Google has officially turned to Portuguese and it is rather difficult to find much in English after a quick search.

On a much lighter note, I managed to leave these contemporary metaphorical ruins for some much older ruins this weekend.  Sintra, very close to Lisbon, was the choice vacation spot of the rich and royal back in the times of Portuguese monarchy and now might just have the greatest percentage of palaces and castles per square kilometer (I may have made up this statistic but it very well could be accurate).  We've been wanting to travel down to Sintra since the beginning of the semester, when Helder, a friend of Tatiana's father, offered his vacation apartment to us.  And since housing is usually the second biggest expense of a trip (after food... at least for us college students), we jumped at the chance to have a cheap weekend trip. 

We took the train down on Friday afternoon to Lisbon, where Mario (a wonderful man who, with Tatiana's father, acted as our tour guides and program directors when we first arrived in Portugal) and his son Ricardo, a young engineer who was working on his post-graduate, picked us up.  I was delighted to see Mario again and so grateful that, once again, he was helping us tremendously.  We ate dinner at his house and then his son Ricardo drove us to Helder's apartment in Sintra, about 20 minutes away.

Helder's Apartment.  Lucky guy.

The apartment was incredible.  Maybe I had become a little too used to our apartment, with the ants, the flaking paint, and the shower that never ceases to make some sort of trouble, but this place seemed like paradise.  Wide-open spaces, comfortable bedrooms, a television, and three different bathrooms.  There were even tubs.  It was like we died and went to heaven... until we realized the hot water didn't work.  A little discouraged, we made plans with Ricardo for sight-seeing the next day.  It turned out that he was going to be our unofficial tour guide throughout Sintra, which was at first a little unexpected and strange but ended up being so incredibly helpful since Helder's place did not seem to have any easy transportation to Sintra proper.  The lack of hot water and, unfortunately, the worst reaction to lactose I have ever had in my life (Mario had made some sort of bacalhau/potato/cheese dish for dinner), made our first night a little less than perfect.  That seemed to be a theme for the rest of the trip: everything was wonderful except for one very small but hugely noticeable thing.

Tiles decorating the outside of the Palácio de Pena

The next morning Ricardo picked us up and brought us to Palácio de Pena, a 19th century fantasy castle.  It truly looked like it came out out of some zany Disney movie: yellow and pink towers, curvy lines, and much too much coziness for a "palace."  It was built by D. Fernando, the German-born husband of Queen Maria II, who built this residence out of jealousy of a nearby nobleman's home.  He actually was a huge patron of the arts and is known as "O Rei-Arista," or the Artist-King. 

Disneyland?

Posing, as usual.

I absolutely loved it, despite the fact that weather.com had predicted a 79°F day when in fact it was much colder, much cloudier, and much windier than that.  Unfortunately we couldn't take pictures of the interior (and even watched some tourists get booted out for doing so), so I can't show you the amazing little rooms where the king and queen lived.  The residency part of the palace was originally a monastary, so the rooms are very small and short.  Of course, the architect managed to dress them up spectacularly though.  The queen's bedroom was breathtaking.  I think I drove my friends crazy with the amount of times I whispered, "I want to live here!"

The fantastical trees in the park.

After this particular sight, we walked through the surrounding park, which was absolutely beautiful.  We hiked a little ways to "O Trono da Rainha," or the Queen's Throne, which was Queen Maria II's favorite belvedere (I've been using this word too much lately... I guess that happens when you travel excessively) and now has a cute little tiled seat where you can sit and look at the palace in the distance.  I took far too many pictures of trees (as usual) and flowers.  In the park there was a little row of man-made ponds, one with a real-life black swan that was terrifying and a duck shelter in the shape of a medieval tower.  It would not be the first time I would be reminded of Lord of the Rings that day.

Terrifyingly territorial black swan

The medieval duck shelter in the background.

After we left the park, we walked down to the entrance to the ruins of the Moorish Castle (Castelo Mouros).  This was far older than the Palácio de Pena of course, but apparently much of the ruins present were reconstructed by a Portuguese king who read far too much romantic literature.  One site, the ruins of an old church, included at the bottom: "Reconstructed into romantic ruins."

Steps at the Moorish Castle

The actual castle ruins were great, despite this apparent reconstruction (I'm certainly not one to complain about romanticism).  Rick Steves referred to these ruins as "the castle-lover's dream," and as I'm definitely a pretty avid castle-lover, I can say that this description is pretty true.  I'm sad to tell you that I definitely nerded out and started describing to Amy how the castle was more like Helm's Deep than Minas Tirith... I'm sure she appreciated all the detail.  At one point Ricardo demonstrated for us how the archers would shoot from the guarded tower tops (like I didn't know... ha!) and I almost compared him to Legolas in the Mines of Moria but... I was able to hold back on that one. Some things never change. 

Four flags leading you to the to

I loved climbing the steps to the different towers though, despite the fact that I was in a skirt and sandals and definitely had to watch my step and mind my balance more than once.  Each tower had a different type of flag waving in the very violent wind, which I figured were the flags of Portugal through the ages.  Definitely a very awesome site.

After the Moorish Castle, Ricardo took us into the town where we had lunch and he ordered special pastries native to Sintra called "travesseiros."  Unfortunately I ate mine too fast to take my own picture.

View from Cabo das Rocas

Having a Titanic moment

All castled out, we then proceeded to Cabo das Rocas, the western-most point in Europe, where the sun finally came out and we goofed around a bit.  They even sell certificates saying that you have officially stood on that particular western cliff in a little shop there, but I was satisfied enough with my photographic evidence.

We also stopped by A Boca do Inferno (the Mouth of Hell), which is simply a (famous?) rock structure on the coast.  The water was super violent there, though the place was covered in fishermen.  I still doubt that they had much success.

After this, Ricardo took us back to Mario's, where we had dinner with him and his daughter, son-in-law, and his 3-year-old granddaughter Maria, who was the cutest little girl ever.  We even got to practice some "bebê" Portuguese as she told us via coloring book pages about The Little Mermaid and the "bruxa feia" Ursula.  Adorable beyond words.  Dinner was again delicious, though I had to refuse the home-made cheesecake that Mario pulled out afterward... I don't know what kind of milk and cheese that man uses, but I certainly didn't want another episode.  Ricardo drove us back to Helder's place, where we watched "In Her Shoes" (the first time in a while that I've watched a movie or TV program on an actual television) and went to bed.

Outside the Palácio de Mafra

The King's Bedroom

The next day, Sunday morning, we finally had hot water!  We had a bit of a later start than the day before, as we had to wash all the sheets and towels we had used that weekend.  Ricardo picked us up again and brought us to the Palácio de Mafra, which was breath-taking.  Though the Palácio de Querluz is the one nicknamed the "Portuguese Versailles," Mafra definitely came close.  The architectural style was very similar, the rooms were massive and tall, and the rooms were gorgeous.  The palace had a full-size cathedral in the center, and the tour inside took us through a museum of the building's time as a religious infirmary, convent, and royal residence.  I loved this museum as well because it included little stories about the rooms as you went.  The Queen's Bedroom, for instance, was where Manuel II, the 21-year-old and last king of Portugal, spent the night before fleeing to Brazil during the Republican Revolution. My favorite room, of course, was the amazing library.  It might be the most beautiful library I've ever seen in my life.  Only the second time I've ever thought of "Beauty and the Beast" in regard to a library... the first time was the Joanine Library here in Coimbra. :)

I guess the royal family enjoyed hunting...

THE LIBRARY

Balcony in the Library where Belle taught the Beast to read.

Seriously, Beauty and the Beast, right?

After the Palácio de Mafra, it was time to depart back to Coimbra.  We stopped back at Helder's place and folded the sheets and towels we had cleaned that morning, then we hopped over to Mario's apartment.  Mario and Ricardo drove us to the train station, where we said goodbye and quickly hopped on the next train.  All in all, a fantastic weekend.  I mean, how could it not be fantastic after three castles?  Sintra definitely made a good impression.

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.