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?

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!

6: Food, Fado, Fun

02/16/2011

I've got lots of pictures for you all today :)

The roof of the cafe/church.

FRIDAY (2/11/2011):

I mentioned before that we were planning on seeing a fado performance at a local cafe, and that was pretty amazing. Tatiana and I got to the cafe first, and this cafe was absolutely beautiful inside. It used to be a wing of the church, but the owners bought it and converted it (there was a lot of controversy... the whole story was in three different languages in our menus).  We were under the impression that we would eat dinner there, but apparently this country doesn't eat out past 4 pm and we had bifana... again. These sandwiches are basically all we eat other than pasta and rice (so cheap!) and despite their less than favorable appearance, those pork steaks are delicious.


The fado performance was amazing.  It was simply a singer, a guitarist, and another musician on a "Coimbra guitar," which is rounder and seemed a little higher pitched.  The singer was this very old man in this long dramatic cape, though several times I caught him dancing subtly to the music.  The guitarists were amazing, and their two instrumentals (sans singer) were my favorite songs.  I didn't understand much of the lyrics, but there was one song that I was able to find on YouTube afterward solely because it is about Coimbra.  We were basically the only ones there when we arrived in the cafe, but by ten, when the performance was scheduled to start, the entire cafe was brimming with people.  One of my professors was talking about fado and said, "I don't know what it is.  Its all very sad, but every Portuguese person just loves fado."  I  recorded quite a lot of the concert, so if you want any clips, I can definitely email you a few snippets.  I posted one of the instrumental songs on my Facebook as well.


SATURDAY & SUNDAY (2/12-13/2011):
Amy's boyfriend James visited this weekend (and was with us at the fado performance), but Tatiana and I were able to meet up with them a few times during the weekend.  I accompanied Tatiana to a few apartment for rent.  More cafes.  More pasta.  More loud Asian neighbors who seem to be destroying the pots, pans, plates, and each other at all hours of the day (at least that's what it sounds like). So much rain.

MONDAY:
New classes!  In addition to my language classes, I also attended the História Portuguesa class in the Intermediate level with Dan from West Point.  The professor promises to be delightful.  He was a history professor all the way: impeccable suit, awkward, and constantly made himself laugh at his strange jokes.  What more could you ask for?  Plus, he speaks very slowly.  I love him already.  We will definitely make my Mondays, where I have class non-stop from 9 AM to 6 PM (with an hour lunch break), a little more bearable.

TUESDAY:

Alex's Bar, 2/5/2011

More classes, yes, but it was Tuesday night that made it memorable.  Tuesdays and Thursdays are the big party nights in Coimbra.  Weekends here are dead because most of the students go home on the weekends to see their family and do their laundry, but Tuesdays and Thursdays are insane.  Despite my Germany buddy Ruben excusing himself last minute, we still had a fantastic night with Dan.  Because he had gone out the Thursday before, he lead us around to a few bars (including Alex's Bar!) and was a perfect gentlemen.  Hopefully the West Point girls and Felipe will be able to come out with us on Thursday.  I just wish I had remembered my camera!

WEDNESDAY:
Today, I luckily didn't have class until 2 PM, though the rest of my party group had to be up at the University for 11 AM classes.  Rough.  But I again had my history class again, accompanied with a giant book I had to buy for the class.  Seriously, that monster is about two inches thick and can stand up on its own.  For an English/Theater concentrator, this is new and different than my little paper-back novels.  But after I finish this particular post, I want to start reading it immediately.  We are picking up in the middle of Portuguese history in class (we'll cover the 15th to 20th centuries), but I definitely want to go over the beginnings of the country.  Plus, I missed out on learning about Dom Pedro I and Inês, Portugal's real-life Romeo and Juliet and one of my favorite romances... despite the exhuming and heart-ripping-out and such.

So basically it as far as events go.  But I would like to share a few things I've learned:

Gnomes love vinho verde.

1. I can now cook on a gas stove, as that is the only option in our dormitories.  I almost want to take driving lessons on a manual car now.  Almost.

2. I now know the difference between vinho verde and vinho branco.  In Portugal, most of the wine that looks like white wine (vinho branco) is actually vinho verde, "green wine," which is so named not for the color but because this kind of wine is not made to sit but to be drunk usually within the first year or so of its creation.  Vinho verde is a distinctly Portuguese kind of wine, so if you see it anywhere else, you can know that it is from Portugal.  It can be white or red in color, but I haven't noticed at red vinho verde yet.  I have also learned that it is delicious.

3. Coimbra is Portugal's third largest city.  This fact was a little sad to learn, especially when you are wandering these streets on a Friday night and there is literally NO ONE THERE.

4. I now know why Portuguese people flocked to the New England area: the weather both here and in Rhode Island has the same mentality: if you don't like it, just wait five minutes.  In walking between the Faculdade de Letras and my bus stop, I experienced perfect sunlight, rain, sleet, and basic dreariness.  All in a seven minute walk.

5. I have also learned that my prejudice against chouriço is completely unfounded.  It makes the best sandwiches and therefore has basically been a vital part of my lunches for the past few days.  I have been missing out for the past 20 years.  Thank God I came here and fully realized my Portuguese heritage.  Soon I'm going to be eating bacalhau and pastéis de nata like its my job (I've already started employment)

Sandwich with chouriço

Eating pastéis de nata

Also these cookies are delicious but their name escapes me... for now.