I left Sevilla last Saturday around 1PM, and headed for Malaga on the Costa del Sol. Like I said before, I'd been looking forward to seeing other parts of Spain so it wasn't too hard to leave. My last day in class was a little bittersweet, though, just because everyone I met was so nice and I really enjoyed studying at Enforex. In only three weeks, I went from being so unsure of my Spanish that I could barely ask for a coffee, to having confidence enough to argue for a price adjustment in El Corte Ingles. Clearly I've learned the skills essential for survival :o)
Now, to Malaga. My friend Kate, who also went to Granada and Cordoba with me, came down for the weekend. We arrived together around 4PM on Saturday and, after dropping our bags at the hotel, went straight out for a glass of wine. I'm convinced that one of the best ways to see a Spanish city is from a cafe table, with some vino tinto. The people-watching is incredible, and Malaga didn't fail us... Malaguenos have definitely got soul, and they're even louder than Sevillanos. Apparently the two cities are arch rivals in everything from futbol, to who has a better semana santa, to who's more passionate in general. Of course, I'm partial to Sevilla!
Saturday night, around 11PM, we went to a tapas bar I read about online -- all locals, all the time (I don't know if I'll ever get used to eating this late). The food was fantastic, but the service was better. Our waiter was probably between 50 and 60, and before we even spoke, he asked us where in the United States we're from. It's funny to me that people can immediately recognize Americans -- why don't we look Canadian? Or British? My friend Alyson had the same experience in Madrid, so I know it's not just me! Anyway, Kate loves to drink Jack Daniel's and diet Coke (the waiter had already called us Americans before this -- Jack wasn't the giveaway), so the real conversation with our waiter started immediately when she ordered. He applauded me for drinking red wine and not huiss-keeeey.
Sunday morning, we got up and walked to the main square in Malaga, where we met our guide for a bike tour of the city! I was so excited to get on a bike, even if it was a beach cruiser. Kate and I got our own private tour since we were the only two people who signed up for Sunday -- our guide, Kay, is just getting started giving these tours, and she said she really doesn't have much business yet (don't worry, I'm getting her set up with Google AdWords). Kay took us by all of the main sights in Malaga and told us about the history of each -- the city is notorious because Picasso was born here and, like every other town in Spain, it has a beautiful Catholic cathedral or three. The thing I like best about Malaga is the coast line. We rode our bikes along the Costa del Sol for quite a while (on the Mediterranean), and when we got to some Roman ruins that have been converted to a beachfront bar we -- you guessed it -- stopped for a glass of wine. A friend of Kay's from her cycling club, Teresa, happened to be at the same place with her 9-year-old son Marcello, so they joined us. This was the best part of the bike tour, and one of the best parts of my trip to Malaga. Teresa, like almost every other Andalusian, does not speak a lick of English. She sat with us for about an hour, though, and there was never a lull in the conversation. She was very curious about where we come from, and what it's really like in the US, and she was also interested in us understanding Malaga. And her son made me eat one of his fried anchovies. It was gross, but the afternoon with them was lots of fun. After our hydration break, we headed back up the coast to see the bullring in Malaga, and then we rode back to Kay's "office."
Kate was supposed to take the 8PM train back to Sevilla Sunday, but when I started talking about the trip to Gibraltar I had planned for the next day, she decided she had to stay and see Gibraltar, too. I was definitely happy to have the company -- Gib, as they call it, is a three-hour bus ride from Malaga, and then a 20-30 minute walk across the border into town... no small feat. Monday morning, we got on the bus at 7AM, and by 10:45AM, we were in the midst of fish, chips, English, and Cadbury chocolate. It was incredible -- Gibraltar, at the very south of Spain, and so close to Africa, is just like being somewhere in the UK. I was fascinated. After we had an English breakfast, we took a gondola/cable car up the side of the rock of Gibraltar. From the bus station, the rock didn't look like much, but it's quite huge when you get up next to it. As you ride the cable car up to the summit, you can see the Strait of Gibraltar, and Spain, and on a clear day, Africa. It's amazing.
We stepped off the cable car at the very top of the rock, where there's a terrace/viewpoint, and a gift shop. And a bunch of wild apes. For the 48 hours before our arrival in Gibraltar, I'd been carrying on and on about the monkeys, telling Kate how I couldn't wait to see them. So, I was surprised at myself when I turned around and walked the other way when I saw the first monkey. I imagined that these wild animals would be some distance from me, in a cage or something, but they literally roam around free, sans muzzles. And they love to grab at women's bags, just to make sure no one has any spare bananas. It's insane. I witnessed a couple of near-bag-snatchings -- the monkeys are shameless, and they don't let go of your bag once they've grabbed on. We saw one monkey stand around the corner and plot his attack... if only I had been quicker with the video camera! Further down the hill, towards the caves, the monkeys hang out in the street and jump on the cabs that come by. They also jump on the people -- a few tourists stood in the road with monkeys around their necks and on their heads. I may have died on the Rock of Gibraltar had one thought I looked good enough to climb.
All in all, Gibraltar was one of the most unique places I've visited, given it's history and culture. There's an interesting Spanish influence on the British people living there -- you notice it in the way they speak, and also in their disregard for time, which people I encountered while traveling in the UK did not have. The people speak a strange combination of Spanish and English, and you can barely find a tapa in Gib to save your life. When you do find something you want to buy, you've got to pay for it in GBP. God bless the Brits for holding their ground. Literally.
Kate left early Tuesday morning, to make it back to Sevilla in time for class. I also left Malaga early, but I went to Ronda for the day. Ronda is about 2.5 hours from Malaga, in the Spanish sierras. Going up a steep and winding hill in a Spanish bus was a whole new experience for me -- there was a point I thought I might be sick, and I don't get motion sickness. Anyway, Ronda is a pueblo blanco, or whitewashed town, of which there are many in Andalusia. All the little houses are white and, as they run down the hill, they look as if they are each stacked directly on top of the next. Ronda is also famous because bullfighting originated there -- the town is pretty small and there's not a lot to do even today, but I still don't think I'd be so bored as to kill a bunch of bulls just for the hell of it. Oh, I know, I know, it's art, and a tradition, and a sport! The arena in Ronda is actually quite beautiful although it is very small. Obviously it's the first to have been built in Spain, and you can walk out in the middle of it -- it's an interesting perspective from the middle of a bullring. I wonder what goes through a matador's mind as he's standing there amongst a ton of cheering Spaniards and a bull who's mad as hell... I also was able to walk around the stables there, and into the equestrian school where I saw a man training to become a picador.
Beyond the bullring in Ronda is the Puente Nuevo, a magnificently old and intricate bridge that connects the old and new towns. Ronda is a city built into the side of the mountains, and a huge gorge separates the old section from the new. I've never seen anything quite like the bridge in Ronda. As you walk from the bullring to the bridge, the town around you is incredibly small, and you certainly don't realize you're on top of a cliff. But as soon as you reach the Puente Nuevo and look down, you suddenly feel like you are on top of the world. It's amazing -- the bridge is probably 100 feet from side to side, if that, but the gorge it crosses is incredibly deep. I tried and tried to get a picture of the entire thing, but there was no vantage point that would allow me to capture the entire height of the bridge. The original designer is said to have fallen to his death right after the bridge was completed -- he was there checking his work, and lost his footing. I think a bull from the nearby arena pushed him.
Of all the cities I've been to so far, Ronda is one of my favorites. Something about it is very serene, and it's incredibly beautiful being built into the cliffs and all. The day I visited Ronda was very quiet (and cold), and somehow I think it was a typical day. I will definitely go back, next time for longer. I have to find a spot that allows a full bridge shot!
Today I've been shopping and relaxing -- it's nice to have some downtime, without cathedrals and museums. I was actually supposed to do an interview with the BBC today, but that didn't happen... Kay, my bike tour guide, had set me up with them because they're looking to speak with people who have taken her tour and are traveling through Spain. I spoke briefly with the reporter yesterday while I was in Ronda, and he asked that I get in touch when I returned to Malaga. I did, but it seems he lost interest after finding out it'd just be me... he said it's better to have a group so you can bounce things off of one another during the discussion. It's actually probably better that I don't go on the BBC to talk about traveling around Spain -- I'm pretty sure they'd make me look like a dumb American ;o)
Tomorrow I am taking the high-speed train to Madrid... I'm excited. On a tip from a friend, I splurged and went for a first-class ticket. You better believe I'll be in the station way in advance so I can take advantage of the lounge, too. I'm meeting HB in Madrid, where we'll be for four days. During that time, I'll take a day trip or two -- I really want to see Toledo and Cuenca. We're then headed to Salamanca and Segovia, and another S-town where his old friend lives, and then back to Madrid to fly home. I can't believe I've only got a little less than two weeks here. Time flies...
Malaga photos are here, Gibraltar photos are here, and Ronda photos are here!
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Friday, October 24, 2008
Sevillanas
Appropriately, we learned about Sevillanas today, during my final culture class. Sevillanas is a type of flamenco that originated in Sevilla, as the name implies. Two of my favorite teachers, Moises and Rocio, demonstrated the dance for us, so I just had to post this video!
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Que curioso
Since tomorrow is my final day of classes and my last full day in Sevilla, it seems appropriate to sum up my thoughts on Spain so far:
First and foremost, I love this country. I'm not sure I could live here long-term because, let's face it -- I bleed red, white, and blue (thanks, Dad!), but I certainly appreciate the experience I'm having at this point in my life. The people I've encountered are so sincere, and incredibly helpful -- from the woman and her dog who walked with me in the direction of my school on the first day of class when I asked for help, to the older ladies in the grocery store who said, unsolicited, "Pasa, pasa, nina," when I only wanted to buy one apple and there was a line of 7 people, to my teachers who demonstrate extreme patience when I sit in silence for what seems like an eternity because I can't think of the right word... I only hope that I will be so hospitable to visitors to the US in the future.
If I had to sum up Spain in a phrase, I'd say it was a country without reason. This can make things a little difficult -- why are stores open on a national holiday, but closed the day after? Why can drivers run red lights, even when cars are coming from the other direction? Why can some people enter the Alhambra late, while others are denied entrance? I've found the answer to be this: because someone feels like it. Sentiment is huge in Spain, and I love it. Having no reason isn't so bad, once you get used to it. However, I don't think I'll ever understand why Spanish women, who can be so beautiful, want to wear MC Hammer pants, or why it's necessary to hang the entire leg of a pig -- hoof and all -- in plain sight in a bar or restaurant, and cut the ham straight off of it? But who am I to question their reasoning?
Something I really admire about the Spanish people is their passion for their country, culture, and language -- I've heard some people, Spaniards included, call this stubborn, but I think it's endearing. Everyone seems to know the history of the country and observes tradition -- they even argue about the region in which things originated so they can exude pride for whatever it might be. And I love that people are constantly in the streets, enjoying every single minute of the day, and greeting each other as if it's been 10 years since the last time they met (even when it's only been a few hours). There is a zest for life here that I haven't really witnessed elsewhere, and the Spanish people are proud of this culture -- I would be, too. As for their passion for the Spanish language: there are many words that do not change across languages: "fiance," "rendezvous," "Google"... the first day of class, my professor asked me where I work, and when I said "Google," she was truly puzzled. Finally, she said, "Ah, Google [pronounced Gooo-glay]." I even found the verb "googlear" in my Spanish dictionary. I think it's funny that Google doesn't localize its name in any country, but Spain has done it for us :o) One of my professors, Javier, summed it up best: if there's a word that doesn't exist in Spanish, they'll slap an "e" on the beginning of it and throw in a few accents, and voila. Spanish.
Sevilla is a phenomenal city, with extraordinary people, but I'm actually ready to see some other parts of Spain. I will be back, that's for sure, but I'm looking forward to a few weeks without the obligation of classes and homework. God help me if I ever go to grad school.
After classes tomorrow, I've been invited to dinner with one of my professors... what a great way to finish out my time here! Then Saturday morning, I'm off to Malaga. Until then, besos.
First and foremost, I love this country. I'm not sure I could live here long-term because, let's face it -- I bleed red, white, and blue (thanks, Dad!), but I certainly appreciate the experience I'm having at this point in my life. The people I've encountered are so sincere, and incredibly helpful -- from the woman and her dog who walked with me in the direction of my school on the first day of class when I asked for help, to the older ladies in the grocery store who said, unsolicited, "Pasa, pasa, nina," when I only wanted to buy one apple and there was a line of 7 people, to my teachers who demonstrate extreme patience when I sit in silence for what seems like an eternity because I can't think of the right word... I only hope that I will be so hospitable to visitors to the US in the future.
If I had to sum up Spain in a phrase, I'd say it was a country without reason. This can make things a little difficult -- why are stores open on a national holiday, but closed the day after? Why can drivers run red lights, even when cars are coming from the other direction? Why can some people enter the Alhambra late, while others are denied entrance? I've found the answer to be this: because someone feels like it. Sentiment is huge in Spain, and I love it. Having no reason isn't so bad, once you get used to it. However, I don't think I'll ever understand why Spanish women, who can be so beautiful, want to wear MC Hammer pants, or why it's necessary to hang the entire leg of a pig -- hoof and all -- in plain sight in a bar or restaurant, and cut the ham straight off of it? But who am I to question their reasoning?
Something I really admire about the Spanish people is their passion for their country, culture, and language -- I've heard some people, Spaniards included, call this stubborn, but I think it's endearing. Everyone seems to know the history of the country and observes tradition -- they even argue about the region in which things originated so they can exude pride for whatever it might be. And I love that people are constantly in the streets, enjoying every single minute of the day, and greeting each other as if it's been 10 years since the last time they met (even when it's only been a few hours). There is a zest for life here that I haven't really witnessed elsewhere, and the Spanish people are proud of this culture -- I would be, too. As for their passion for the Spanish language: there are many words that do not change across languages: "fiance," "rendezvous," "Google"... the first day of class, my professor asked me where I work, and when I said "Google," she was truly puzzled. Finally, she said, "Ah, Google [pronounced Gooo-glay]." I even found the verb "googlear" in my Spanish dictionary. I think it's funny that Google doesn't localize its name in any country, but Spain has done it for us :o) One of my professors, Javier, summed it up best: if there's a word that doesn't exist in Spanish, they'll slap an "e" on the beginning of it and throw in a few accents, and voila. Spanish.
Sevilla is a phenomenal city, with extraordinary people, but I'm actually ready to see some other parts of Spain. I will be back, that's for sure, but I'm looking forward to a few weeks without the obligation of classes and homework. God help me if I ever go to grad school.
After classes tomorrow, I've been invited to dinner with one of my professors... what a great way to finish out my time here! Then Saturday morning, I'm off to Malaga. Until then, besos.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Flamenco, and Cordoba and Granada
Flamenco in Andalusia is like clam chowder in a bread bowl in San Francisco, only better. It's tradition, and you have to experience it when visiting the south of Spain. Last week, a group of us from school went out for what has been my best night in Spain so far -- we saw flamenco at Casa de la Memoria in Sevilla. A friend I made while studying in Scotland 8 years ago recommended Casa de la Memoria, which maybe seats 75 people. Maybe. The venue is actually a patio in the middle of a traditional Spanish casa, and the show consists of one singer, one guitarist, and two dancers -- one male, and one female. Throughout the entire show, both of my eyebrows were raised, and my mouth was definitely open... I had never seen anything quite like this. The dancers were very emotional, and very authentic.
I've been told that flamenco started in the 16th or 17th century, with a lot of African influences, but I've also found that its history really depends on who you ask. Flamenco is first mentioned in literature in 1774 by José Cadalso, in Cartas Marruecas (Moroccan Letters/Cards). I'm no expert, but I don't think the style has changed drastically over the years -- the dance is very purposeful, and each move of the dancers' body, right down to his or her fingers, seems intentional although it's never choreographed. Everything is improvised. It really was fascinating, and enchanting, to watch something so meaningful to Spanish people... even the guys I was with loved it. Que fuerte.
Friday night, a friend of mine I know from home arrived in Sevilla, from Madrid. Even though I have some American friends here in Sevilla, it's been a while since I saw someone I know from home so when she showed up at midnight on my doorstep, I was pretty damn excited to see a familiar face! We woke up in the morning and headed to Cordoba by train, and my friend Kate from school also joined us.
We arrived in Cordoba around 10:30AM, just as it was beginning to rain. We walked aimlessly from the train station, which I found curious -- between three women, we couldn't be bothered to take out a map to figure out where we were going. We walked for about 15 minutes and ended up at the Alcazar; we decided to return to the Alcazar only after visiting the Mezquita.
The Mezquita is a huge Catholic cathedral, which used to be a mosque. The Muslims began building it in 600AD! The Mezquita used to be the second largest mosque in the world, but the Catholics took it over from the Muslims in the 13th century, under King Ferdinand III. I was struck by the "mezcla" of Catholicism and Islam -- there are countless Islamic remnants within the cathedral, including lots of Arabic inscriptions around the church. The detail in the tiles on the walls, and the carvings in marble was mind-boggling -- I can't imagine how many men it took to build such an ornate structure. I'm not quite sure, either, that something similar could be built today. I don't think that type of patience exists anymore.
We walked out of the Mezquita to find that the light rain showers had turned to an all-out downpour, so we headed for the first restaurant to have lunch, and wine. After a few glasses, we headed toward the Alcazar, but when we arrived it was closed for siesta. So we went for more wine. The Alcazar reopened around 5.30, by which point we were feeling no pain -- I highly recommend sightseeing after a couple of "vases de vino."
The Alcazar is actually a castle with ornate gardens and a Moorish bathhouse. A Muslim alcazar once stood on the exact site of the current one, and you can still see some remnants of the old buildings. It's fascinating to me that there was once such a strong Muslim community in Spain, mostly because it's now such a Catholic country. There is, however, still an Arab feeling to much of the architecture in the cities I've visited, and even flamenco has an Arab flare about it.
After spending the day in Cordoba, we boarded a later train to Granada. Granada is about 2.5 hours from Cordoba so I planned to sleep much of the way... I didn't have any problems resting until the train came to a dead stop, for what seemed like an eternity. Given my shaky past with trains, I was sure something had gone awry, so I looked out the window to see if the ground was running parallel with the train. Everything looked fine, but what I did notice was A LOT of mud, so I was pretty sure we were stuck. I immediately told Kate and Alyson of my bad luck with trains, and that I was sure we were stuck. Two minutes later, we started moving. We never heard anything about why we were delayed, just a simple "Disculpe las molestias" (Apologies for the inconvenience). God bless the Spanish for their eloquence.
Sunday morning, we woke up early and realized that the train we wanted to take back to Sevilla late Sunday afternoon was full. In a bit of a panic, we headed for the train station to purchase tickets before going to the Alhambra (literal translation: the red one) -- yes, I know, we should have bought them when we arrived. Anyway, once that mission was accomplished, we stopped into what we dubbed a Spanish Denny's, and had a fantastic breakfast of fresh squeezed "zumo de naranja" and "tostadas." We smiled about the fact that we were about to view the Alhambra -- we had to purchase tickets online a week prior to our visit because it's such a popular destination, and a restricted number of tourists can view the grounds each day. If you've seen Charlie & The Chocolate Factory, I kept saying "I've got the golden ticket" during breakfast :)
When we headed for the Alhambra, we surprisingly knew exactly where we were going, and we had plenty of time to make our 10:00 appointment. And besides, as long as we are there sometime after 10:00, we should be OK, right? Unfortunately, once we set foot on the grounds of the Alhambra, we had no idea where to go. I think the signage was organized by the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz, because the ones for the ticket office were accompanied by arrows pointing in every direction. Needless to say, we got lost, and we were late. And then we were denied entrance. I wasn't quite mad yet when the woman told us we were too late, because I thought we'd be able to talk our way into the palaces. Oh, how I was wrong.
A man and his wife, both Spanish-speaking, got in line in front of us and managed to just force their way through, even though they were also late for the 10:00 showing. We asked what was up with that nonsense, since we'd been denied entry. The man tending the turn style told me that the others were able to enter for one reason or another, and then he stopped listening for a bit. I told him that the ticket machine said I had one hour after 10:00 to make it to the palace, but he told me it's actually one hour BEFORE, which I knew was a lie since he wouldn't let the 11:00 guests through as I stood there arguing. I don't quite have a command for the Spanish language when I'm mad as hell, so I wasn't getting very far. He then proceeded to tell me that I don't understand the concept of the ticket process, and I just stared at him -- as if my evil eyes would get us in. No luck, so we bought new tickets for the afternoon showing, and I am so glad we did. The Alhambra is like nothing I've ever seen.
After you enter the palace, you walk through room after room of tiled walls, carved ivory and marble, and perfectly manicured gardens. There isn't a detail missing, and it truly is amazing. The Alhambra, just like the Alcazar and the Mezquita, was built by the Muslims and completed in the mid-1300s. Not long after, in 1492, the Alhambra was taken over by the Catholics when the Muslims lost control of Granada. Again, here is an interesting mix of Islam and Catholicism which, I can't help but think was purposeful -- it's almost like a trophy declaring Spain's victory over the Muslims.
The Alhambra was said to be full of wonder at the time of it's construction, because of its mixing of natural elements with man made ones, and so easily. At the time the Alhambra was built, water was in very short supply, so the Muslims installed a state-of-the-art irrigation system, allowing them to collect enough water to fill entire pools and a number of fountains around the grounds. On one of the main patios in the Alhambra is a huge pool that, functionally, was a sort of air-conditioner. It was also symbol of power since it required so much effort and money to keep it full.
Views of Granada from the Alhambra are incredible -- from above, the city still looks like a quiet, old, white-washed Moorish village even though it's one of Andalusia's larger cities. While we had to hoof it up the hill to get to the Alhambra, it's easy to understand why the Muslims chose such a location to build their palace -- you have full sight of what's going on down below, and you've got one of the most lush locations in Andalusia (at least, from what I've seen!).
Once we left the Alhambra, we were all pretty much done with sight-seeing, so we went to a cafe to sit and relax a little, especially since we had four hours until our train was set to depart. I ordered a cafe con leche, and the girls each had "hot chocolate." I haven't seen chocolate pudding as thick as what was in their glasses, but it did taste good! We then walked the city a bit and ended up at another cafe for some wine. Good way to wait for a train...
Monday morning, back in Sevilla, I decided to skip class and go around town with Alyson. First stop was the post office so I could mail some things home -- 100 euros and a little bit of confusion later, my boxes of goodies were on there ways to California... let's just hope they make it! We then headed across the street to the cathedral and the Giralda, for a tour of the inside. The church is fascinating -- it was built in 1402 and is the largest Gothic cathedral in the world, and the fourth largest Christian church. The cathedral was built on the site of an old Muslim mosque, mainly to signify Sevilla's wealth at the time. What are said to be the remains of Christopher Columbus are entombed at the cathedral, and there's also quite a collection of relics from various saints.
After I wandered through the cathedral (and was separated from Alyson), I climbed the Giralda, or bell tower, to the very top. The tower has 35 flights, although there are ramps rather than staircases, so it isn't as much of a feat as you might imagine. From the top of the tower, you can see the whole of Sevilla, which was amazing. The city looks a lot different from above... there's so much sky! Since I spend most of my time on the tiny streets of the Santa Cruz neighborhood, the city always seems so small and enclosed to me, but it really isn't. I also noticed when I was standing at the top of the bell tower that each bell is dedicated to a saint. I liked that.
Now that it's a new week of class (and also my final!), I have two new teachers, and I'm the only student in the extra hour of conversation I opted to take. My teacher's name is Paco, and I'm pretty sure that the few times I meet with him will be what makes my classes worth every penny. It's tough to speak to a teacher for an hour straight, but that's what I need... we're working on vocabulary, and if I don't know a word, he makes me describe it. No dictionaries, no pictures -- it's great.
Saturday morning I head to Malaga to kick off my two weeks of traveling throughout Spain. While I'm there, I plan to go to Gibraltar, Ronda, and Marbella, as well as tour Malaga. Hopefully the weather will cooperate, because I've got a gnarly cold at the moment. Then it's off to el norte!
Pictures from Granada and Cordoba are here. And I've added many more Sevilla pictures, starting here. Still not annotated, but I'm working on it!
I've been told that flamenco started in the 16th or 17th century, with a lot of African influences, but I've also found that its history really depends on who you ask. Flamenco is first mentioned in literature in 1774 by José Cadalso, in Cartas Marruecas (Moroccan Letters/Cards). I'm no expert, but I don't think the style has changed drastically over the years -- the dance is very purposeful, and each move of the dancers' body, right down to his or her fingers, seems intentional although it's never choreographed. Everything is improvised. It really was fascinating, and enchanting, to watch something so meaningful to Spanish people... even the guys I was with loved it. Que fuerte.
Friday night, a friend of mine I know from home arrived in Sevilla, from Madrid. Even though I have some American friends here in Sevilla, it's been a while since I saw someone I know from home so when she showed up at midnight on my doorstep, I was pretty damn excited to see a familiar face! We woke up in the morning and headed to Cordoba by train, and my friend Kate from school also joined us.
We arrived in Cordoba around 10:30AM, just as it was beginning to rain. We walked aimlessly from the train station, which I found curious -- between three women, we couldn't be bothered to take out a map to figure out where we were going. We walked for about 15 minutes and ended up at the Alcazar; we decided to return to the Alcazar only after visiting the Mezquita.
The Mezquita is a huge Catholic cathedral, which used to be a mosque. The Muslims began building it in 600AD! The Mezquita used to be the second largest mosque in the world, but the Catholics took it over from the Muslims in the 13th century, under King Ferdinand III. I was struck by the "mezcla" of Catholicism and Islam -- there are countless Islamic remnants within the cathedral, including lots of Arabic inscriptions around the church. The detail in the tiles on the walls, and the carvings in marble was mind-boggling -- I can't imagine how many men it took to build such an ornate structure. I'm not quite sure, either, that something similar could be built today. I don't think that type of patience exists anymore.
We walked out of the Mezquita to find that the light rain showers had turned to an all-out downpour, so we headed for the first restaurant to have lunch, and wine. After a few glasses, we headed toward the Alcazar, but when we arrived it was closed for siesta. So we went for more wine. The Alcazar reopened around 5.30, by which point we were feeling no pain -- I highly recommend sightseeing after a couple of "vases de vino."
The Alcazar is actually a castle with ornate gardens and a Moorish bathhouse. A Muslim alcazar once stood on the exact site of the current one, and you can still see some remnants of the old buildings. It's fascinating to me that there was once such a strong Muslim community in Spain, mostly because it's now such a Catholic country. There is, however, still an Arab feeling to much of the architecture in the cities I've visited, and even flamenco has an Arab flare about it.
After spending the day in Cordoba, we boarded a later train to Granada. Granada is about 2.5 hours from Cordoba so I planned to sleep much of the way... I didn't have any problems resting until the train came to a dead stop, for what seemed like an eternity. Given my shaky past with trains, I was sure something had gone awry, so I looked out the window to see if the ground was running parallel with the train. Everything looked fine, but what I did notice was A LOT of mud, so I was pretty sure we were stuck. I immediately told Kate and Alyson of my bad luck with trains, and that I was sure we were stuck. Two minutes later, we started moving. We never heard anything about why we were delayed, just a simple "Disculpe las molestias" (Apologies for the inconvenience). God bless the Spanish for their eloquence.
Sunday morning, we woke up early and realized that the train we wanted to take back to Sevilla late Sunday afternoon was full. In a bit of a panic, we headed for the train station to purchase tickets before going to the Alhambra (literal translation: the red one) -- yes, I know, we should have bought them when we arrived. Anyway, once that mission was accomplished, we stopped into what we dubbed a Spanish Denny's, and had a fantastic breakfast of fresh squeezed "zumo de naranja" and "tostadas." We smiled about the fact that we were about to view the Alhambra -- we had to purchase tickets online a week prior to our visit because it's such a popular destination, and a restricted number of tourists can view the grounds each day. If you've seen Charlie & The Chocolate Factory, I kept saying "I've got the golden ticket" during breakfast :)
When we headed for the Alhambra, we surprisingly knew exactly where we were going, and we had plenty of time to make our 10:00 appointment. And besides, as long as we are there sometime after 10:00, we should be OK, right? Unfortunately, once we set foot on the grounds of the Alhambra, we had no idea where to go. I think the signage was organized by the scarecrow from the Wizard of Oz, because the ones for the ticket office were accompanied by arrows pointing in every direction. Needless to say, we got lost, and we were late. And then we were denied entrance. I wasn't quite mad yet when the woman told us we were too late, because I thought we'd be able to talk our way into the palaces. Oh, how I was wrong.
A man and his wife, both Spanish-speaking, got in line in front of us and managed to just force their way through, even though they were also late for the 10:00 showing. We asked what was up with that nonsense, since we'd been denied entry. The man tending the turn style told me that the others were able to enter for one reason or another, and then he stopped listening for a bit. I told him that the ticket machine said I had one hour after 10:00 to make it to the palace, but he told me it's actually one hour BEFORE, which I knew was a lie since he wouldn't let the 11:00 guests through as I stood there arguing. I don't quite have a command for the Spanish language when I'm mad as hell, so I wasn't getting very far. He then proceeded to tell me that I don't understand the concept of the ticket process, and I just stared at him -- as if my evil eyes would get us in. No luck, so we bought new tickets for the afternoon showing, and I am so glad we did. The Alhambra is like nothing I've ever seen.
After you enter the palace, you walk through room after room of tiled walls, carved ivory and marble, and perfectly manicured gardens. There isn't a detail missing, and it truly is amazing. The Alhambra, just like the Alcazar and the Mezquita, was built by the Muslims and completed in the mid-1300s. Not long after, in 1492, the Alhambra was taken over by the Catholics when the Muslims lost control of Granada. Again, here is an interesting mix of Islam and Catholicism which, I can't help but think was purposeful -- it's almost like a trophy declaring Spain's victory over the Muslims.
The Alhambra was said to be full of wonder at the time of it's construction, because of its mixing of natural elements with man made ones, and so easily. At the time the Alhambra was built, water was in very short supply, so the Muslims installed a state-of-the-art irrigation system, allowing them to collect enough water to fill entire pools and a number of fountains around the grounds. On one of the main patios in the Alhambra is a huge pool that, functionally, was a sort of air-conditioner. It was also symbol of power since it required so much effort and money to keep it full.
Views of Granada from the Alhambra are incredible -- from above, the city still looks like a quiet, old, white-washed Moorish village even though it's one of Andalusia's larger cities. While we had to hoof it up the hill to get to the Alhambra, it's easy to understand why the Muslims chose such a location to build their palace -- you have full sight of what's going on down below, and you've got one of the most lush locations in Andalusia (at least, from what I've seen!).
Once we left the Alhambra, we were all pretty much done with sight-seeing, so we went to a cafe to sit and relax a little, especially since we had four hours until our train was set to depart. I ordered a cafe con leche, and the girls each had "hot chocolate." I haven't seen chocolate pudding as thick as what was in their glasses, but it did taste good! We then walked the city a bit and ended up at another cafe for some wine. Good way to wait for a train...
Monday morning, back in Sevilla, I decided to skip class and go around town with Alyson. First stop was the post office so I could mail some things home -- 100 euros and a little bit of confusion later, my boxes of goodies were on there ways to California... let's just hope they make it! We then headed across the street to the cathedral and the Giralda, for a tour of the inside. The church is fascinating -- it was built in 1402 and is the largest Gothic cathedral in the world, and the fourth largest Christian church. The cathedral was built on the site of an old Muslim mosque, mainly to signify Sevilla's wealth at the time. What are said to be the remains of Christopher Columbus are entombed at the cathedral, and there's also quite a collection of relics from various saints.
After I wandered through the cathedral (and was separated from Alyson), I climbed the Giralda, or bell tower, to the very top. The tower has 35 flights, although there are ramps rather than staircases, so it isn't as much of a feat as you might imagine. From the top of the tower, you can see the whole of Sevilla, which was amazing. The city looks a lot different from above... there's so much sky! Since I spend most of my time on the tiny streets of the Santa Cruz neighborhood, the city always seems so small and enclosed to me, but it really isn't. I also noticed when I was standing at the top of the bell tower that each bell is dedicated to a saint. I liked that.
Now that it's a new week of class (and also my final!), I have two new teachers, and I'm the only student in the extra hour of conversation I opted to take. My teacher's name is Paco, and I'm pretty sure that the few times I meet with him will be what makes my classes worth every penny. It's tough to speak to a teacher for an hour straight, but that's what I need... we're working on vocabulary, and if I don't know a word, he makes me describe it. No dictionaries, no pictures -- it's great.
Saturday morning I head to Malaga to kick off my two weeks of traveling throughout Spain. While I'm there, I plan to go to Gibraltar, Ronda, and Marbella, as well as tour Malaga. Hopefully the weather will cooperate, because I've got a gnarly cold at the moment. Then it's off to el norte!
Pictures from Granada and Cordoba are here. And I've added many more Sevilla pictures, starting here. Still not annotated, but I'm working on it!
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Mama mia!
So much for the slow-paced Spanish lifestyle -- I haven't had more than 10 free minutes to sit down in front of the computer for the past week, which I suppose is actually a good thing. Last time I wrote, I was headed for drinks with some friends, so I'll take it from there.
A group of 7 or 8 students from my school were going out for a drink or three Friday night, so even though I planned to be on a train to Malaga at 7AM the next morning (it's about 3 hours from Sevilla), I went too. At 4AM, I arrived back at my apartment, fully intending to go to Malaga in three hours. When I woke up Saturday around 8, I panicked a little because I'd clearly missed my train, and the next wasn't until 11. I decided it wasn't worth traveling 3 hours to Malaga and 3 hours back that late in the day, so I quickly decided to go to Cadiz instead.
An old friend of mine from college, Lord Byron, said about the town: " ...Cadiz, sweet Cadiz! It is the most delightful town I ever beheld..." I think I've beheld more delightful, but I did really love it. My professor told me that Cadiz is "muy precioso," and I'd describe it the same way. The town itself is actually quite small, and all the locals seem to know each other. Cadiz sits on the Costa del Sol and has some of the prettiest beaches I've seen in Europe. I also saw the ruins of an old Roman theatre from 50BC -- I literally stumbled on it when I headed towards the water immediately after getting off the train. Pictures from Cadiz are here.
Sunday was a rainy day in Andalusia, so I decided to stay in Sevilla. I trekked across town with my umbrella to some friends' house -- we planned to get lunch before they headed for the last bullfight of the year. All through lunch, my friends tried to convince me to buy a ticket to attend the fight, but I refused. A few days before, I took a tour of the arena because I do understand and appreciate that it's such a longstanding tradition in Spain, but I don't feel any need to watch a matador kill a bull before my eyes. As it turned out, the fight was cancelled due to the weather. You can imagine my excitement -- no animals would have to die in Sevilla that day! Oddly enough, as soon as the fight was cancelled, the sun came out :)
While the others waited in line to get their money back from the bullfight, my friend Kate and I went to a great tapas bar in the city center for a glass of wine. We ended up having drinks with another group from school who were just out for a walk -- when they passed by the bar I called to them, and they came in for what ended up being a few hours. It's amazing how small Sevilla is... I haven't walked around town yet without meeting someone from school in the streets. Even when I went to Cadiz, I saw someone I know. Anyway, after drinks, we had dinner at a restaurant situated almost directly ON the cathedral in Sevilla. Our table faced it and, on a patio at night, with the full moon, it was gorgeous. The paella was pretty good, too.
I didn't get home until about 2AM Monday morning, so I slept a little longer than I usually do. I was so happy to observe Columbus Day, regardless of who discovered America. When I woke up I went into the kitchen to make some coffee and was surprised to find some guy standing there in his boxer shorts and a t-shirt... my new flatmate. Martijn is also from Holland (practically half my school is), and he's a journalist. He doesn't speak much Spanish at all, and he's never been to Sevilla, so I offered to show him the school and the grocery store and some other essentials. Later in the day, Martijn and I walked around town and then sat in the sun for lunch -- while we were waiting for our food, a heavy-set woman walked on to the patio where we were seated and started singing the Spanish national anthem, loudly. She then continued with La Bamba and some other songs, and for the finale, she danced. I was surprised that people gave her money when she walked around to each table after her show... maybe they just wanted her to stop?
Tuesday night I had 8 or 10 friends over to cook dinner -- we walked home together immediately after classes, and hit the grocery store on the way. We also recruited a new guy from Los Angeles to join us... the more, the merrier. We sat on my patio from 6PM-1AM eating and drinking, and enjoying being in Spain. We started the night off speaking in English, but by 1AM my r's were rolling. Also, I've been reading this book called "Talk Dirty: Spanish," which was a gift from two darling friends, and I'll tell you, it makes for some pretty hilarious conversations. I study it nightly, along with my homework.
Classes on Wednesday were tough, mostly because the vino here flows like (and is cheaper than) water. In my final class of the day, my teacher said to me in Spanish, "chiquita, I heard you had quite the party in your flat last night. Miguelito told me about it last hour. I can see it in your face, too." It's just like high school.
Wednesday night I went on a walking tour of Triana, the neighborhood across the bridge in Sevilla. Triana is where the "marineros" used to live since it's right on the river, and it's also famous for ceramics and tiles. The moon was still full, so it made for a very nice night. After the tour, a group of us went for tapas -- I had the best gazpacho I've tasted in Spain. So delicious.
Tonight I'm going to my first flamenco show in Sevilla, and I can't wait! I didn't think anyone was interested in going, but I've managed to recruit 7 others to do something a little more cultural than drink. Wait, maybe it isn't more cultural based on what I've been doing and seeing so far... either way, it should be fun. I'm also looking forward to going to Cordoba and Granada this weekend with my friend from home, Alyson, and also with Kate from school. Good stuff.
A group of 7 or 8 students from my school were going out for a drink or three Friday night, so even though I planned to be on a train to Malaga at 7AM the next morning (it's about 3 hours from Sevilla), I went too. At 4AM, I arrived back at my apartment, fully intending to go to Malaga in three hours. When I woke up Saturday around 8, I panicked a little because I'd clearly missed my train, and the next wasn't until 11. I decided it wasn't worth traveling 3 hours to Malaga and 3 hours back that late in the day, so I quickly decided to go to Cadiz instead.
An old friend of mine from college, Lord Byron, said about the town: " ...Cadiz, sweet Cadiz! It is the most delightful town I ever beheld..." I think I've beheld more delightful, but I did really love it. My professor told me that Cadiz is "muy precioso," and I'd describe it the same way. The town itself is actually quite small, and all the locals seem to know each other. Cadiz sits on the Costa del Sol and has some of the prettiest beaches I've seen in Europe. I also saw the ruins of an old Roman theatre from 50BC -- I literally stumbled on it when I headed towards the water immediately after getting off the train. Pictures from Cadiz are here.
Sunday was a rainy day in Andalusia, so I decided to stay in Sevilla. I trekked across town with my umbrella to some friends' house -- we planned to get lunch before they headed for the last bullfight of the year. All through lunch, my friends tried to convince me to buy a ticket to attend the fight, but I refused. A few days before, I took a tour of the arena because I do understand and appreciate that it's such a longstanding tradition in Spain, but I don't feel any need to watch a matador kill a bull before my eyes. As it turned out, the fight was cancelled due to the weather. You can imagine my excitement -- no animals would have to die in Sevilla that day! Oddly enough, as soon as the fight was cancelled, the sun came out :)
While the others waited in line to get their money back from the bullfight, my friend Kate and I went to a great tapas bar in the city center for a glass of wine. We ended up having drinks with another group from school who were just out for a walk -- when they passed by the bar I called to them, and they came in for what ended up being a few hours. It's amazing how small Sevilla is... I haven't walked around town yet without meeting someone from school in the streets. Even when I went to Cadiz, I saw someone I know. Anyway, after drinks, we had dinner at a restaurant situated almost directly ON the cathedral in Sevilla. Our table faced it and, on a patio at night, with the full moon, it was gorgeous. The paella was pretty good, too.
I didn't get home until about 2AM Monday morning, so I slept a little longer than I usually do. I was so happy to observe Columbus Day, regardless of who discovered America. When I woke up I went into the kitchen to make some coffee and was surprised to find some guy standing there in his boxer shorts and a t-shirt... my new flatmate. Martijn is also from Holland (practically half my school is), and he's a journalist. He doesn't speak much Spanish at all, and he's never been to Sevilla, so I offered to show him the school and the grocery store and some other essentials. Later in the day, Martijn and I walked around town and then sat in the sun for lunch -- while we were waiting for our food, a heavy-set woman walked on to the patio where we were seated and started singing the Spanish national anthem, loudly. She then continued with La Bamba and some other songs, and for the finale, she danced. I was surprised that people gave her money when she walked around to each table after her show... maybe they just wanted her to stop?
Tuesday night I had 8 or 10 friends over to cook dinner -- we walked home together immediately after classes, and hit the grocery store on the way. We also recruited a new guy from Los Angeles to join us... the more, the merrier. We sat on my patio from 6PM-1AM eating and drinking, and enjoying being in Spain. We started the night off speaking in English, but by 1AM my r's were rolling. Also, I've been reading this book called "Talk Dirty: Spanish," which was a gift from two darling friends, and I'll tell you, it makes for some pretty hilarious conversations. I study it nightly, along with my homework.
Classes on Wednesday were tough, mostly because the vino here flows like (and is cheaper than) water. In my final class of the day, my teacher said to me in Spanish, "chiquita, I heard you had quite the party in your flat last night. Miguelito told me about it last hour. I can see it in your face, too." It's just like high school.
Wednesday night I went on a walking tour of Triana, the neighborhood across the bridge in Sevilla. Triana is where the "marineros" used to live since it's right on the river, and it's also famous for ceramics and tiles. The moon was still full, so it made for a very nice night. After the tour, a group of us went for tapas -- I had the best gazpacho I've tasted in Spain. So delicious.
Tonight I'm going to my first flamenco show in Sevilla, and I can't wait! I didn't think anyone was interested in going, but I've managed to recruit 7 others to do something a little more cultural than drink. Wait, maybe it isn't more cultural based on what I've been doing and seeing so far... either way, it should be fun. I'm also looking forward to going to Cordoba and Granada this weekend with my friend from home, Alyson, and also with Kate from school. Good stuff.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Me encanta Sevilla!
Vamos a ver... I've been in Sevilla now for just about a week, and I am quickly getting acclimated to the Spanish lifestyle -- I even find myself arriving at school a few minutes late, but I'm still the first in the classroom.
My classes are going well and I'm starting to speak more Spanish, but I still have a little bit of trouble speaking the right words without having to pause and think for a moment. I am able to understand almost everything people say to me when I'm out, but I sometimes have the "deer in the headlights" thing going on if they speak quickly, which most people seem to do.
Each morning, I walk 3 kilometers to school (and then 3 kilometers home), and have classes from 9.30AM - 4PM, with an hour's worth of breaks during the day, which I spend at various cafes near my school. By the time I head home, I'm pretty fried -- I can't think in English, I can't think in Spanish, but it's great!
Yesterday I visited the Plaza de Toros in Sevilla, and took a tour of the bullfighting ring. We learned about bullfighting in my culture class -- I never knew the matador gets to keep one or both ears of the bull, and sometimes the tail, if he does a really "good job" killing it... what do you do with a bull's ears and tail? Anyway, I was curious to see the Plaza because bullfighting is such a long-standing tradition in Spain, and Sevilla is said to have one of the nicest rings in the country, but I wouldn't want to watch an actual fight. The last of the season occurs this Sunday, el 12 de Octubre. Sunday is a big holiday in Spain because it's the day Columbus is said to have discovered America, so we don't have class on Monday as it's a national holiday. Que bueno.
This morning I had an exam to move to the next level of classes -- I scored around 80%, so it's onward and upward... I forgot what it's like to be a student and nervous about tests, but then I remembered this morning that these grades don't really "count" for anything, other than my own benefit. I did think it was funny, though, when my professor told me I wasn't allowed to use a pencil to take my test -- he wanted me to use a pen. I used my pencil. In Europe, everyone writes with pens, and it's a stereotype in the school that only Americans write with "un lapiz." My classmates were laughing at me during my exchange with the teacher about what I was going to use to write my exam, but I gotta be able to erase!
After classes ended, I walked to the Plaza de Espana, a huge courtyard with a number of Moorish buildings arranged in a half-circle. The plaza was constructed in 1929 when Sevilla hosted the Spanish-American Exhibition. The coolest things about the plaza are the many fountains lining the half-circle on which the buildings sit... each fountain represents a different province in Spain, and on the floor in front of each fountain is a map of that province. Each is intricately tiled with such brilliant colors -- I had the most fun taking photos in the Plaza de Espana.
Tonight I am going for "copas" (direct translation is "cups") with some people from school... my flatmate Sander has gone back to Holland so I'm sorry not to have a roommate to go around with! And tomorrow, I am off to Cadiz and Malaga for the weekend.
I've created a web album for my photos from Sevilla -- you can check it out here, but they aren't yet annotated. Hasta luego!
My classes are going well and I'm starting to speak more Spanish, but I still have a little bit of trouble speaking the right words without having to pause and think for a moment. I am able to understand almost everything people say to me when I'm out, but I sometimes have the "deer in the headlights" thing going on if they speak quickly, which most people seem to do.
Each morning, I walk 3 kilometers to school (and then 3 kilometers home), and have classes from 9.30AM - 4PM, with an hour's worth of breaks during the day, which I spend at various cafes near my school. By the time I head home, I'm pretty fried -- I can't think in English, I can't think in Spanish, but it's great!
Yesterday I visited the Plaza de Toros in Sevilla, and took a tour of the bullfighting ring. We learned about bullfighting in my culture class -- I never knew the matador gets to keep one or both ears of the bull, and sometimes the tail, if he does a really "good job" killing it... what do you do with a bull's ears and tail? Anyway, I was curious to see the Plaza because bullfighting is such a long-standing tradition in Spain, and Sevilla is said to have one of the nicest rings in the country, but I wouldn't want to watch an actual fight. The last of the season occurs this Sunday, el 12 de Octubre. Sunday is a big holiday in Spain because it's the day Columbus is said to have discovered America, so we don't have class on Monday as it's a national holiday. Que bueno.
This morning I had an exam to move to the next level of classes -- I scored around 80%, so it's onward and upward... I forgot what it's like to be a student and nervous about tests, but then I remembered this morning that these grades don't really "count" for anything, other than my own benefit. I did think it was funny, though, when my professor told me I wasn't allowed to use a pencil to take my test -- he wanted me to use a pen. I used my pencil. In Europe, everyone writes with pens, and it's a stereotype in the school that only Americans write with "un lapiz." My classmates were laughing at me during my exchange with the teacher about what I was going to use to write my exam, but I gotta be able to erase!
After classes ended, I walked to the Plaza de Espana, a huge courtyard with a number of Moorish buildings arranged in a half-circle. The plaza was constructed in 1929 when Sevilla hosted the Spanish-American Exhibition. The coolest things about the plaza are the many fountains lining the half-circle on which the buildings sit... each fountain represents a different province in Spain, and on the floor in front of each fountain is a map of that province. Each is intricately tiled with such brilliant colors -- I had the most fun taking photos in the Plaza de Espana.
Tonight I am going for "copas" (direct translation is "cups") with some people from school... my flatmate Sander has gone back to Holland so I'm sorry not to have a roommate to go around with! And tomorrow, I am off to Cadiz and Malaga for the weekend.
I've created a web album for my photos from Sevilla -- you can check it out here, but they aren't yet annotated. Hasta luego!
Monday, October 6, 2008
Bienvenidos a Sevilla
Adeus, Lisboa!
My last day in
After visiting (Oh Little Town of)
Hola Espana!
I left
Ah, home, sweet home. But not so fast… all of the rooms seemed to be occupied except for one in the back of the flat, with two twin beds dressed in dirty sheets -- heinous (I reserved a single room with a double bed). Being Saturday, and not having a Spanish telephone, I wasn’t quite sure what to do next. I went in search of an internet café so I could contact my program coordinator, who, by the way, is located in
I slumped down at a café and ordered a bottle of water and a café con leche – at least I’d have one luxury that Saturday! As I sat eavesdropping on the Sevillanas seated near me, I noticed a grocery store around the corner, and it was OPEN. I nearly cried tears of joy when I found that not only do they sell towels in the 4th aisle, but they also sell sheets! Que bueno! I was so happy that I wouldn't have to dry myself with paper towels after a shower. With sheets in hand, I went straight back to the flat, picked the dirty ones off the bed (thank goodness for long fingernails and hand sanitizer), and placed my new ones on it immediately. Not 5 minutes later, a woman came in to the flat to understand the problem I emailed about, and then she showed me where the clean sheets are kept. She told me that the school had made a mistake and my room would be free Sunday at noon, as soon as the guy living in it moved out. Awesome.
I spent Sunday getting settled, and walking around
This morning, I woke up extra early so I’d be sure to arrive on time, like any good student would :) After packing up my backpack, I looked out the window to see that, at 7.30AM, it was still pitch black outside. I started to worry that I had messed up my travel alarm clock, or that I had missed a time change, so I quickly pulled up the world clock online. Apparently the sun doesn’t rise until 8:30 in
I stopped 4 or 5 people in search of the right direction. I would say, “Sabes que donde esta la Calle Conde de Ibarra?” And each person's answer sounded something like, “Si, blah blah blah, a la izquierda, y entonces a la derecha, blah blah plaza en centro blah blah.” Wow, my Spanish is rusty. I finally ducked in to a hotel to ask someone who’d know the area, but the man at the front desk had no idea where the school was. I walked back into the maze, and pulled out a map. I started to walk to the right but turned around to see the sign of the school directly behind me! So much for the man at the hotel across the way. I'd finally arrived, and I was only 20 minutes late. The staff didn’t think anything of it… I am sure it happens often, but I also know that Spaniards typically disregard keeping time.
Once we’d had our break, I returned to the school for four hours of Spanish classes, two of which were grammar, one hour of culture, and one hour of super-intensive conversation. My classes are all very small, with people from all over the world:
Tomorrow I plan to visit some sites after class so I can take some pictures, especially since I have yet to snap one in
Buenas noches, por ahora…
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Lisboa, Lissabon, Lisbon
I arrived in Lisbon yesterday after many, many hours of traveling... once I returned to SFO from Honolulu, I went to the lovely Travelodge in Millbrae to sleep for 6 hours, and then went right back to SFO at 5AM. I flew to Charlotte, and then to Frankfurt, and then finally to Lisbon.
From SFO to Charlotte, I had triple the leg room as I was seated in an exit row with no one in front of me -- I was loving it until people started using my extra space to do yoga poses. A few hours later, after I sat down on my plane to Frankfurt, the yoga poses didn’t sound like such a bad idea, so I went looking for a similar open space. No success... unfortunately, after all those hours crammed into a little seat, I experienced the dreaded long-flight-cankles. Luckily, the swelling is finally going down ;) During the flight to Frankfurt, I watched Made of Honor (sorry, Beckmann!), and also part of 21 -- the rest of the time I spent in and out of consciousness, mostly with my mouth open.
Once I arrived in Frankfurt, I passed through customs and found that my flight to Lisbon was delayed one hour. By the time I sat down on that plane, I was so tired I could barely see straight. I passed out immediately and woke up only when the German man next to me gave me a "gentle" elbow to my ribs, letting me know that der breakfast was about to be serven-ed. After eating, I fell back asleep and woke just as we were descending into Lisbon. The city is beautiful from above, so I knew I was in for a huge treat.
After clearing customs in Lisbon, if you can call it that (no one looked at my passport), I exited to ground transportation to meet my driver, Joseph. He loaded my bags into his car, and laughed at me when I had already seated myself up front with him. I'm sure he thought I was an amateur, but I had to sit down! Joseph proceeded to give me a mini-tour of Lisbon before taking me to my hotel, mostly so he could show me some park (I looked up the name -- it was the Parque Eduardo VII). Even though I could hardly see the park due to delusion, I was grateful for his hospitality.
After I checked in to my hotel, I went straight to the shower, and then went for a walk around town. I went to the Praco do Comercio, walked through Baixa, and along the Rua Augusta. I also saw the Elevador de Santa Justa and the Praca de Figueroa. Around 6PM, I headed back to the hotel, and immediately collapsed on the bed -- I woke up a few hours later with my bag still across my shoulder, all the lights on, and the BBC blaring something about John McCain and Barack Obama. I felt like I was home.
Today, I got up around 9AM (14 hours of sleep!) and had breakfast at Terraco Restaurant in my hotel. The restaurant is on the top floor, with a gorgeous view of Lisbon and the Tagus River. It's easy to see across town because the tallest building in Lisbon is the Sheraton hotel, and it ain't that tall. For breakfast, I had the scrambled eggs with herbs, which were lovely, but the coffee was better. I also took a piece off every roll and pastry in my bread basket, because I couldn't choose between the 27 things in there. Each was delicious.
Once I was full of bread and coffee, I walked through the residential section of Alfama. Amongst the thousands of houses tightly packed into this kasbah-style neighborhood, I saw a movie being filmed, lots of dogs, and lots of laundry hanging out to dry. There were also many little markets and taverns and cafes, with doors no taller than I am. I loved the cobblestone roads and the steep staircases that ascend into more cobblestone roads and more tightly packed-in houses. I just don't know how anyone finds their friends' homes around here... Google Maps? I’m also baffled at how Portuguese women move so quickly down cobblestone roads, in stilettos. Anyone?
Later in the afternoon I took a tour to Sintra, which also included the Palacio de Queluz, Cabo da Roca, and Cascais. I know, I know – a tour? But this proved to be worth my time and money… I learned a lot and saw a lot that I probably wouldn’t have otherwise.
The tour started in Lisbon, of course, where we learned first about the great earthquake of 1755. On November 1, 1755, which also happens to be All Saint’s Day, a huge earthquake occurred in Lisbon around 9.30 AM. With most of Lisbon’s residents attending church and lighting candles for the dead, you can imagine the catastrophe that ensued. Churches collapsed due to the quake, and then caught fire from all the burning candles. People fled for the Tagus River for relief, but shortly after the earthquake, a tsunami struck, with a 6 meter wave engulfing the city. Bad luck. 85% of Lisbon was destroyed, and 100,000 people (half the population) died. This earthquake is a big reason many things are the way they are in Lisbon today – the style of architecture, the layout of the city, the miniature Golden Gate Bridge... it's also the reason many people left Lisbon for areas further inland, including King Pedro.
The first stop on our tour was the Palacio de Queluz. This palace was once the hunting lodge of King Pedro, but it was remodeled to resemble the Palace of Versailles in the 1700s. King Pedro moved permanently to Queluz after the earthquake since it was further from the coast-- rumor has it he was terrified of another earthquake hitting Lisbon. In 1760, Pedro married his darling niece Maria I, and extended the palace. Today, the prime minister of Portugal uses the Palacio de Queluz for receptions and whatnot.
Next up, Sintra: what a lovely little town! Sintra is built into the north slopes of the granite Serra, which makes for a thrilling drive via tour bus. I saw the Palacio Nacional de Sintra and then walked around the narrow cobblestone roads for about an hour. This is somewhere I would definitely like to visit again – Sintra was a favorite summer spot amongst the kings of Portugal, so you know it’s gotta be good.
After Sintra, Cabo da Roca: “Here is where the land ends, and the sea begins.” Cabo da Roca is the westernmost point of continental Europe. According to my tour guide, New York is 5,000 km across the Atlantic.
Finally, Cascais: Cascais is a small resort town about 30 minutes from Lisbon, with lots of beaches and fabulous-looking resorts. We passed a beach that looked like one big sand dune because it is always so windy – as you can imagine, it was covered with surfers and windsurfers and is apparently the site of many world-class surfing competitions. Also in town is the largest casino in Europe!
My tour ended around 7PM, so I headed for my hotel after returning to the city center. I was pleased to find a plate of cookies and a pot of tea when I arrived in my room… what a greeting. Tomorrow I plan to visit the Belem area of Lisbon, which is Portuguese for Bethlehem. Until then…
Portugal photos are here.
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