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?

14: Spring Break Part 2 - ROME

While this is technically still the same trip, I think Rome definitely deserves its own blog post... It actually probably deserves two...  You might want to take a break before I get to my tour of Ancient Rome.

Castelo Sant'Angelo

I arrived in Rome on the Saturday before Easter.  After checking in at our hostel, I tried to get in contact with my friend Dan, who had arrived that morning in the city from his travels in Berlin and Athens.  The last I heard from him was from the Vatican Museum, where he had managed to get a tour.  As I found out later, his phone was out of credits but, in the absence of any contact, I decided to try and find the Trevi Fountain.  My efforts proved futile and creepy Italian men were starting to notice my being alone with a travel book when finally Dan called me from a payphone.  I met him in St. Peter's Square (which I tried to ignore in an effort to make the next day's adventures as fantastic as they could be) and we set off to find a restaurant for dinner and ate some delicious lasagna.  By that time it was starting to get dark, so we decided to do Rick Steves' Night Walk Across Rome: Campo de' Fiori to the Spanish Steps.  On our way to Campo de' Fiori, we passed the Castelo Sant'Angelo and the Ponte Vittorio Emanuele II, which I had to take a picture of in honor of my father, Victor Emmanuel Jr.  This began my rabid photo-taking of anything related to Italy's kings named Vittorio Emanuele II in honor of Papa Bernson.

Ponte Vittorio Emanuele II

Statue of Giordano Bruno at Campo de' Fiori

We eventually found our way to Campo de' Fiori (and by "eventually" I mean we got rather lost before stumbling upon it by accident), where this crazy band were playing and we experienced our first avid street vendors (which, unfortunately, mildly plagued the rest of our time in Rome).  It had started to drizzle a little bit but it was nothing we couldn't handle.  The rain merely gave the pages of my tour book a little more character.  From there we continued to the Four Rivers Fountain, which was fantastic.  I'm going to nerd out a little and just include what Rick Steves said about this fountain right here in this blog.  Perhaps from this execerpt you can tell why I follow and love this man so much:

Four Rivers Fountain

"The Four Rivers Fountain in the center is the most famous fountain by the man who remade Rome in Baroque style, Gian Lorenzo Bernini.  Four burly river gods (representing the four continents that were known in 1650) support an Egyptian obelisk that once stood on the ancient Appian Way.  The water of the world gushes everywhere.  The Nile has his head covered, since the head-waters were unknown then.  The Ganges holds an oar.  The Danube turns to admire the obelisk, which Bernini had moved here... And the Rio de la Plata from Uruguay tumbles backward in shock, wondering how he ever made the top four.  Bernini enlives the fountain with horses plunging through the rocks and exotic flora and fauna from these newly discovered lands...  The Plata river god is gazing upward at the church of St. Agnes, worked on by Bernini's former-student-turned-rival, Francesco Borromini.  Borromini's concave facade helps reveal the dome and epitomizes the curved symmetry of Baroque.  Tour guides say that Bernini designed his river god to look horrified at Borromini's work.  Or maybe he's shielding his eyes from St. Agnes' nakedness, as she was stripped before being martyred.  But either explanation is unlikely, since the fountain was completed two years before Borromini even started work on the church."

St. Agnes behind the Fountain

Oh Rick, you are so delightfully clever and informative.

The Pantheon at night

Chocolate and Cinnamon.  Mmm.

After oogling the beautiful Four Rivers Fountain, Dan and I wound through several hard-to-distinguish streets and suddenly found ourselves face-to-face with the Pantheon, which we discovered was now the St. Maria and the Martyrs Church with great confusion.  The inside was closed at night, but we managed to get inside the next day (more on that later).  After a few more Egyptian obelisks we found the recommended Giolitti's and got the best gelato of my life.

Still devouring our ice cream, we walked through the Piazza Colonna, down Via del Corso a little ways, and finally found the Trevi Fountain.  It was absolutely breath-taking at night, and just as packed as it was the next day during the afternoon.  Unfortunately my camera wasn't too thrilled about taking pictures of the fountain so late, but hopefully you can get an idea of the sight.  Dan even washed his gelato-covered hands there.  And that, my friends, is true American class.

The Trevi Fountain at night

Spanish Steps at night

After the Trevi Fountain, we found the Spanish Steps on the Piazza de Spagna.  Somehow we managed to stumble upon them from the top, so we had to weave our way down and dodge the excessive amounts of rose vendors before seeing them in their flower-covered entirety.  I could definitely tell why they were such a romantic spot.  Dan and I then went in search of what Rick Steves refered to as the largest and most lavish McDonalds in Europe but finally gave up and returned to our hostel, where we passed out in preparation for Easter the next day.

Crazy elated in St. Peter's Square.

While Dan had already seen the Vatican, he still wanted to accompany me early that Easter morning.  The metro was jam-packed and the streets between our stop and St. Peter's Square were crazy busy.  Somehow we managed to get in line, get through security, and land in St. Peter's Square by 10 AM.  Mass started at 10:30 AM and, somehow, I can convinced myself that the Mass was inside St. Peter's Basilica and was prepared for a mere sighting of the Pope beforehand.  Then I realized that there was an altar set up on the steps and cardinals and bishops sitting with other clergy to the side.  The Pope drove in on his Popemoble and walked up the steps and seated himself on a little red throne.  Then I realized that I had somehow managed to arrive in the midst of the Vatican on Easter and witness the Pope's Easter Mass.

The Pope arrives!

The altar on the steps of St. Peter's Basilica

Obviously I was beyond elated.  The weather had been rather cloudy and gross but as soon as the Mass started, the sun came pouring in and it became absolutely beautiful.  We technically weren't officially attending, as we had to stand the entire time and didn't receive the Eucharist, but I watched both with my naked eye and with the help huge jumbo screens the Pope preside over Easter Mass.  He always spoke in Latin, opened the Mass, and then an Italian woman read the First Reading.  An American clergyman read the Second Reading was in English and the Gospel in perfect Latin.  Later, for the "Let Us Pray" portion (Sorry, St. Mary's... I can't remember that particular part's name!), readers spoke in Italian, English, Swahili, Chinese, Spanish, and Portuguese (pride!).  There are not words to express how amazing it felt being there.  I recorded huge sections of the proceedings and probably annoyed a few people around me by the constant presence of my extended arm and video camera.  At the end of the Mass, the Pope retired into the Basilica.  The crowd began to disperse, and, still completely elated, Dan and I fought through the crowd, took pictures with the Swiss Guard in the background, and then tried to figure out what we were going to do with the rest of the day. 

After a quick but delicious lunch, we decided to do Rick Steves' Dolce Vita Stroll, which started at the Piazza del Popolo, where I found another lion friend.

Lion friend at the Piazza del Popolo

The Mausoleum of Augustus

We passed by the Ara Pacis and the Mausoleum of Augustus (you know, that kinda famous Roman emperor) before revisiting the Spanish Steps and Trevi Fountain during the day.  I couldn't decide whether either of these sights were more beautiful at night or during the day.  We ended up at the end of Via del Curso at the Victor Emmanuel Monument, a huge and gaudy building built to reassure a newly united Italy.  The statue of Italy's first king, the aforementioned Victor Emmanuel, is so huge that his mustache is five feet long.  Dan and I climbed up the steps and took the elevator to the top, from which you can enjoy an amazing panoramic view of Rome.

Trevi Fountain, daylight.

Statue of King Victor Emmanuel II and his 5-foot mustache

We were a little worried that the Colosseum, Roman Forum and Palatine Hill would be closed the next day (like everything else), so we left the monument and walked down the Via Dei Fori Imperiali, made sure it was going to be open for the next day, and then admired the bronze statues of Roman emperors and then walked over to the Pantheon again.

We have a copy of this statue at Brown!

Inside the Pantheon was absolutely beautiful, with the graves of Victor Emanuel II and Umberto I (Italy's first two kings) and Raphael (not the ninja turtle).  Earlier that day at the Spanish Steps, a rose seller had given me a free rose "because you are so beautiful!" and then tried to bully Dan into buying me another one.  There was a rose laying on Raphael's grave, so I added mine there.

Raphael's grave

By that time we were both getting a little hungry, so we decided to look for dinner in Rome's Trastevere neighborhood.  While I loved Rome as a whole, Trastevere was definitely my favorite area.  It was so unlike the rest of Rome, a modern city, and more like that idealized vision everyone has of Italy.  There were vines all over the buildings and churches.

Santa Maria

We actually visited the first church dedicated to Mary, Santa Maria, which was absolutely beautiful inside, with really neat mosaics and a fantastic ceiling.  Some strange concert was going on inside though, so we didn't stay inside too long.










We tried to visit Villa Farnesina, which has a whole bunch of Raphael's art, but it was sadly closed.  Instead we climbed up to Giancolo Hill, admired the view, and then returned back downhill and found Dar Poeta Pizzeria, whose menu declares its pizza to be "neither thin or crispy nor thick and softy."  This pizza definitely rivaled the pizza in Florence.  After consuming another entire pizza each, Dan and I also got Nutella calzones, which Dan had to bully me into finishing.  After dinner, we returned to our hostel, took a disco nap, and then returned to Trastevere to experience a little bit of Rome's night scene.  After visiting a few little pubs and visiting a bar with Michael Jackson, Biggie, and Tupac framed on its walls, Dan and I returned to our hostel, excited for our tour of Ancient Rome the next day.

You better think twice before messing with this lady's Nutella calzone.

Ignoring the rain at the Colosseum

Monday began with a little cold and drizzly, but even in shorts I managed to absolutely love the Colosseum.  It is truly amazing that a structure like that has managed to exist like that for so long.  Dan and I decided to pay for a guided tour, so we were able to bypass the line and, with the help of the fantastic RomaPass, got into the Colosseum and Palatine Hill/Roman Forum for free.  Our tour guide was a very sweet Italian woman who pronounced words like "holes" in such a wonderful way.  She told us that the reconstruction of marble steps in the Colosseum were entirely wrong, as senators and other important people would have sat around the emperor and certainly would never have sat on such uncomfortable stone seats.  Little things like that are the reason why I love guided tours.  We also made friends with two Australians, who graciously allowed me to stand under their umbrella when it began to pour.  After the tour and wandering through an exhibit on Emperor Nero, I ran back to our hostel, put on some proper pants and grabbed my umbrella, and returned in time for the second leg of the tour on Palatine Hill.

There our tourguide was absolutely amazing.  He spoke perfect British English but referred to Italians as "we," so I'm guessing he has some sort of English parent.  He was full of fantastic little tidbits and factoids.  Here are some of my favorites:

An example of why our tour guide loved Palatine Hill when it rained.

1. We get the words "palace" from Palatine Hill, where many affluent royal Romans had their residences.
2. Palatine Hill is also where the mythical twins Remus and Romulus decided to start their settlement, though, of course, Romulus was forced to kill his brother in order that his settlement might survive and thrive and become Rome.
3. The Romans were such great fans of a purple marble named porpora that they mined it into extinction.  There are three baths made of this marble in the Vatican Museum and their combined worth it over one billion dollars.
4. The reason that Roman statues don't have any hair on their bodies is because the Romans washed  by rubbing themselves with sand and olive oil and scrapping it off, which eventually prevented hair growth.  I always wondered about this, as modern Italians aren't exactly lacking in body hair.
5. Rome's population literally doubles during the Easter week.  This year even more people have flocked to Rome at this time to celebrate the beatification of Pope John Paul II.
5. The Roman metro has been in the works for about 50 years now, but it is so difficult to expand because every time they go about digging underneath the city they find a new site or new artifacts and have to stop to excavate.  As our tour guide said, "It's taken so long because we Italians don't know what to do and end up just drinking a lot of wine instead of making any decisions."

After our tour was sadly over, we headed down to the Roman Forum, which was amazing.  We saw the Arch of Constantine (kind of an important guy)...

... the Basilica Aemilia (of which only one third exists from the original.  During the Middle Ages, scholars lost the knowledge to make such vast domes until they figured it out again right before the Renaissance.  Insane)...

... the Arch of Septimius Severus (though I was instantly distracted with thoughts of Severus Snape and Harry Potter)...

... The Temple of Saturn (the Forum's oldest temple and the ancient state treasury of Rome)...

... The Temple of Julius Caesar (where a pile of flowers decorates the spot where his body was burned following his assassination)...

... and the House of the Vestal Virgins, which was my favorite ruin.  The statues of famous Vestal Virgins lined a courtyard with two brick pools.  On the ruins of the brick walls were these overgrown vines and roses.  It was just a beautiful little area.  I'll quote Rick Steves one more time (I swear this is the last time I will mention him) about the Vestal Virgins: "Chosen from noble families before they reached the age of 10, the six Vestal Virgins served a 30-year term.  Honored and revered by the Romans, they Vestals even had their own box opposite the emperor in the Colosseum.  As the name implies, a Vestal took a vow of chastity.  If she served her term faithfully--abstaining for 30 years--she was given a huge dowry, and allowed to marry.  But if they found any Virgin who wasn't, she was strapped to a funeral car, paraded through the streets of the Forum, taken to a crypt, given a loaf of bread and a lamp...and buried alive.  Many woman suffered the latter fate."

House of the Vestal Virgins

Constantine

After exploring the Roman Forum, we left buzzed on Roman history and visited the Capitoline Museum, which we also got into for free and where the original She-Wolf with Romulus and Remus statue is housed as well as parts of the giant bronze statue of Constantine that was housed in the Basilica Aemilia.  They also have one of his giant feet, but I technically wasn't allowed to take this picture so...

If they hadn't let me take a picture of this statue, I would have done some damage.

After checking my guide book, I realized that I hadn't hit a necessary spot for any classic film or Audrey Hepburn lover: the Bocca della Veritá.  I made Dan stand in a very long line but after we finally got to the Bocca and I stuck my hand into the fateful mouth, the picture was blurry.  Arg!  Oh well.  Just another reason why I need to return to Rome :)

Plus I'm missing my Gregory Peck!  Need a retake!

Yeah, I only ate one of these.

We returned to Trastevere for dinner yet again, though we stopped in a few tourist shops so that Dan could buy a miniature Colosseum and I could buy a miniature of the She-Wolf (which proudly sits on the small stool near my bed at present).  We ate more delicious food at a restaurant with the worst service in the world, then ran through the rain to drink delicious coffee and then get onto a bus back to our hostel.  We stopped in a café, where Dan impressed the waiter by consuming three whole desserts.  Full and a little sugar-high, we returned to the hostel and tried to go to sleep early, though several drunk American girls stationed themselves in our bathroom, unaware of how loudly they were talking about things they did not want anyone else to hear.

And you better think twice before messing with this man's pastries.

That morning Dan caught an early flight and, after checking out, I made my way to the Vatican to see if I could convince the guard to let me into the shop and buy a rosary.  Of course that didn't work out too well, so I ended up getting coffee and a chocolate croissant and then heading to the airport.  After a full day of traveling and a lay over in Madrid, I ended up running into Amy at the Lisbon train station and was never happier to arrive at my apartment as I was that night.

What a fantastic trip.  Even with the poor weather, the lack of the Vatican official tour, and the creepy Italian men, it was still the experience of a lifetime.  I will definitely be returning to Italy someday.

However, I think I'm all traveled out for now.  If I do travel, it will definitely be within Portugal.  I will be quite happy to avoid airports for a little while.  I was looking over this blog and I realized that there was very little about Portugal and much  more about all my travels... and this needs to be remedied.  At least you can look forward to a very Coimbra-centric blog post in a few weeks with the arrival of the infamous and ridiculous week-long party that is the Quiema das Fitas celebration.  I promise you that that week will either be very memorable in one way or another.  As my cousin, who will be returning to Coimbra for the festivities, told me: "Vai ser uma aventura."

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!