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?

16: Queima das Fitas

I'm finally back with a much more upbeat blog post (because God knows we all need to be more positive nowadays).


Queima das Fitas, or "The Burning of the Ribbons," is the biggest student celebration in Europe... and it happens right in my little city of Coimbra, Portugal.  As I'm sure I've mentioned before, Coimbra is Portugal's first and oldest university and it has quite a few very old traditions.  Queima isn't a tradition that stretches back to the university's founding in the 13th century but it is at least one hundred years old and celebrates the senior's (or finalistas) graduation and the burning of their school ribbons as a symbol of such commencement.  The 8-day celebration (a day for each department at the University) starts on the Friday of May with a midnight Serenata in the wee small hours of the morning.  From then on it is complete madness in the city: mayhem, drunkenness, debauchery, and all that follows.  I sincerely doubt several of my friends here would remember the week if they didn't have incriminating photos to help them piece together the events of each day. :)

Tacos for Cinco de Mayo!

 The Thursday before Queima was actually Cinco de Mayo, so with the Midnight Serenata that night it felt as though the two party traditions of my heritages were coming together for a truly epic night.  After a "Mexican dinner" (thanks to an overpriced El Paso taco kit), Tatiana, Amy and I joined forces with Barbara and Ashleigh, split a bottle of wine, and headed to the Midnight Serenata.

Fadistas singing on the steps of Sé Velha

The square was packed at 11 PM, though we weren't surprised in the slightest.  Students in full Coimbra uniform had been waiting since the afternoon on the steps of Sé Velha, and Amy had seen them receive a pizza from a delivery boy sometime around 3 PM.  We stopped and bought individual half-bottles of Barbara and Ashleigh's favorite Portuguese wine, Mateus.  I've decided that I have family connections to this winery.

Mateus wine for everyone!

After dodging far too many drunk Coimbra students (the guys were very excited to see us and the girls glared as if their looks could kill), we found a pocket were a few recognizable Erasmus faces were stationed and enjoyed the concert when it began at, you guessed it, midnight.  We weren't sure exactly how long the concert was going to be, but with the help of Mateus we ended up enjoying the somber fado celebration quite a lot.  After stopping back at our apartment, Tatiana and I headed back out at 2 AM for the first real Queima das Fitas festivities: a party underneath the Quimica (Chemistry) and Física (Physics) departments.  The rest of the night got a little crazy... all I will tell you is that I met Tatiana back at the apartment at 6:30 AM and enjoyed delicious grilled cheeses before falling asleep and definitely missing my 9 AM class the next morning.

The Gates of Heaven.

The Stage

Ashleigh and THE CANDY

Friday night marked the first night of the "Noites do Parque," which took place across the river in a huge area.  Each night there was a giant concert, where the opening act usually began around midnight and the headliner graced the stage around 1 or 2 AM.  The first night featured The Editors as the headliner, and while they were great we didn't stay at the concert the entire time.   The facility was huge: near the stage was a giant complex for food, souvenirs, and beer.  Behind the food were three enormous tents, each with its own DJ blasting dance music.  And of course, port-a-potties and public urinals tucked out of sight.  That night Amy, myself, Barbara, and Ashleigh got giant bags of candy.  There were people all over the place handing out random things for free, and we ended up with pink balloons and condoms whose wrappers called attention to human trafficking.  We also bought delicious sangria from a booth sponsored by Bigorna, a favorite bar close to our apartment.

A shining beacon in the night.

The next day I went to visit my family with Amy, but I'll talk about my adventures with my family both that Saturday and this past weekend in my next blog.  When we returned, Tatiana and I headed out to the Noites do Parque again, where we watched Brazilian musicans Marcelinho da Lua and Marcelo D2, who were both fantastic and high-energy.

Concert-goers.

The next day was what most would call the highlight of Queima das Fitas: o Cortejo.  O Cortejo is a huge parade where students from all of the different departments create giant floats that traditionally feature some sort of political, social, or cultural satire about contemporary Portugal.  From these floats, each the color representing the department (yellow for Medicine, dark blue for Humanities, red for Law, etc), students already drenched in beer, liquor, water, and juice pour these things from the sides into other student's open mouths or drop cans and bottles into their waiting hands.  The parade starts at the Old University, continues down the hill, turns around Praça de Republica, and continues through the city.  We practically traced its path, as we saw many of the floats waiting up at the university.  There the students first got drenched by their friends and colleagues, who poured and sprayed whole cans on one another.

Classy.

While we were no stranger to the Coimbra University uniform, this was the first day that we saw the finalistas decked out in their dress uniform: sans cape, both the boys and girls had black jackets with lapels covered in colored satin (the color depended on your department) with a flower for emphasis button on their chest.  They also had colored top hats and colored walking sticks.  It is tradition to hit each senior's top hat three times (and hard!) with the walking stick (for good luck?), so most of the students had huge dents in the top front of their hats.  I was pretty jealous of their uniforms, though not so much of the hat abuse.

I didn't have any good up-close pictures myself.  How great are these uniforms though?

We walked down the Escadas Monumentais and met up with Ashleigh and Barbara to watch the parade in motion.  Absolute chaos.  If I had a Euro for the amount of times I watched someone fall down in the street right in front of me, I would be rich.  Everyone was drenched in alcohol, completely drunk, and dancing through the streets.  And this wasn't just students!  Young people (and quite a lot of older people too!) from all over the world were on the street, dancing in the parade or dodging the sprays of beer on the side lines.  As the floats passed, students tossed cans of beer to the people below.  Every once and while they would also throw bags of chips or homemade sandwiches.  One float passed by handing out little pieces of cake.  Don't worry, I fought the people at the base of that particular float and got two.  Of course I did get sprayed while trying to get a can of beer, but the mood of the entire parade was infectious and I didn't mind at all.  Unfortunately my camera got a little sticky and the zoom button still sticks a little bit, but otherwise I had a fantastic time.

Before the mayhem.

This float gave us cake.

 

Sprayed with beer. Super Bock!

Pouring vodka right into students' mouths

That night we headed to the Noites do Parque once again and saw Quim Barreiros in concert.  I'll insert a video of Quim Barreiros for you below so you can comprehend why we were at first astonished that he was headlining and then had the greatest time ever dancing to his songs.

Quim Barreiros and his accordion!

Once the weekend was over, we were a little partied out and didn't return to the Noites do Parque until Wednesday night.  Each night, though, we could hear the concerts from our apartment and, later, the music of parties going on in the different student houses around us and the bars near Sé Velha.  But attendance at the Noites do Parque on Wednesday was completely necessary: Yolanda Be Cool, who are behind one of my favorite songs of all time "We No Speak Americano" (the song I used in my Queima das Fitas video) where playing and I was determined to worship them in person.

Having too much of a good time.

In all, this week was absolutely insane.  To give you an idea of the amount of people here in Coimbra and the amount of drunkness that they carried with them, it has been reported that more beer is drank during these eight days of Quiema das Fitas than during Oktoberfest.  I really hope I can return again while I'm still young and experience this celebration again!  Later, when my video finally uploads, I'll post a link to my video about Queima das Fitas on here. 

But for now I will leave you with this, a recent vocabulary discovery I found that I don't think is entirely by accident and may be completely inspired by the Queima das Fitas festivities:

Licenciado, -a graduate

Licenciar to graduate

Licenciatura degree

Licencioso licentious

Hmm. Coincidence?  I think not.

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!

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.