Sunday, June 13, 2010
Monday, May 5, 2008
What I do now:
I'm an intern with the Obama campaign. I work 16 hours a day for minimal pay, but the perks are terrific. For example, chilling with Barack:
Best job ever.
Best job ever.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
Elections
I was speaking last night to a Spaniard about upcoming elections in Spain and the United States. I thought some of what he said was interesting, including his observation that Spanish elections don't matter that much, and American elections have a lot more sway over the people here than their own elections, since the US president "essentially runs the planet," or something along those lines. He also said that because US policies are so influential over people's lives here, many Europeans think that they should be able to vote in our elections. I thought that was funny.
Edit 1-20-08:
I'm pretty sure he was at least half joking. Maybe 65% joking.
Edit 1-20-08:
I'm pretty sure he was at least half joking. Maybe 65% joking.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
My Incredible Holiday Adventure
Before I get to my Christmas adventures, I should mention an interesting experience I had shortly beforehand. Just outside of Madrid there is a tremendous shopping mall, which besides housing a great variety of shops also contains within it a large video games arcade, a go-kart track, several restaurants, and a ski slope. I went, naturally, for the skiing.
It takes about a half-hour bus ride from the city to arrive at the suburb that contains the mall, appropriately named Xanadu, as it’s a rather hedonistic place. The ski area is essentially an enormous, warehouse-sized freezer, replete with snowmaking equipment and a chairlift to service the single slope. I went on a Tuesday, so it wasn’t too crowded, which I was a little anxious about since it’s the kind of place that beginners pile into in order to learn how to ski before going to an actual ski resort. 35 euro bought me a half day lift ticket and full rental equipment, which is a little more than I would have liked to pay considering there was one slope only, but really how often do you get the chance to ski indoors? So that was an interesting afternoon. I’m posting a couple photos of the place.
Okay, so I’ve had some downtime to think about it and should probably get to the Christmas vacation. I’m really glad that I took notes while it was going on, or I’m not sure I’d be able to separate one cultural experience from the next. The nonstop barrage of history and culture really wears you down after a while.
So, after class on Thursday, December 20, fellow Hoosiers Danny and Katrina and Marquette University junior Jordan and I all hopped on the metro to head out to the airport. Danny and I opted out of the 8-euro-per-flight charge ($12, x5 flights) to check luggage, and instead were sporting enormous hiking backpacks, filled with the bare minimum amount of clothes for two weeks. I figured I could get by on a handful of t-shirts and two pairs of pants as long as I had two weeks’ worth of undies, yet remarkably I came home last weekend with some still-clean clothes. I must have been more economical than necessary in deciding when to change; I don’t like to think about what I smelled like.
So anyway, we arrived at a seldom used and very cheap airport far outside of Paris on Thursday night. Our flight cost us 1 euro cent, and with taxes and fees was bumped up to 13 euros. That price simply cannot be beat. Unfortunately, that price also put us at an airport so far outside of the city that we had to pay an additional 13 euro for a bus that would take us close enough to the city that we could take the metro to our hostel.
It was pretty late by this time, so we hauled our stuff up to our room, snagged some pizza at an Algerian pizzeria next door, and went to bed. As if by some European hostel regulation, every hostel on our trip could only possess two of three qualities between Hot Water, Cleanliness, or Any Heating at All, and the first hostel in Paris chose the first two. I must have worn almost all the clothes I had with me, and a scarf, to sleep the first night.
The next day we got up decently early to see Notre Dame. It was a remarkably clear day, and quite cold. Of course, the cathedral was very beautiful, and we climbed its bell towers to for a remarkable view of almost the entire city.
After probably a couple hours in the cathedral we crossed the river for a French Christmas drink, hot spiced wine, in a café with a view of the cathedral. It was pretty excellent, but the location probably doubled the price of the drink so it was kind of a mixed bag that way. We went on quite a long walk, just looking at the city, and picked up many different kinds of crepes many times during the day from street vendors. My favorite was the ham-cheese-egg crepe combo, virtually a handheld omelet.
We saw all sorts of things on our walk, from the Louvre (did not go in that day) to the Arc de Triomphe and Avenue des Champs-Élysées. It gets dark pretty early this time of year all over Europe, so by the time we were coming back from the Arc it the sun was already pretty much down. We stopped by the Toyota Store, where curiously they did not seem to be selling any cars, to look at some of the concept vehicles on display. Inside we found all kinds of interesting attractions. There were free massages, a “Synergy Bar” where they made you different kinds of obscure herbal teas, several interactive displays of Toyota technology, and an Oxygen Bar, where you don what looks like a phone headset, but instead of a microphone in front of your face there is a tube that delivers scented oxygen to just in front of your nose. I tried citrus oxygen. The whole place was pretty goofy, and also free, so totally worthwhile.
We continued our walk and saw the Eiffel Tower at night. Paris isn’t a very tall city, and the Eiffel Tower is a good distance from the nearest skyscraper, so there’s nothing to put its incredible size in perspective. It’s got a different character lit up at night than during the day, when it’s much more stately, I suppose. There is something of a light show at night, as the entire tower is wired with strobe lights so it periodically totally spazzes out and flashes for a few minutes. It’s really very neat.
Afterward we went to dinner at a restaurant near our hostel and got some desserts at a pastry shop. We found that most people we spoke to knew enough English to help us get by—and were surprisingly patient and gracious about it (we saw so many more smiles in Paris in six days than we have in four months in Madrid, where we can actually speak the language)—and for the rest of the time Katrina had taken a few years of high school French, which was more or less sufficient for our purposes.
We separated the next day, with Katrina going shopping and the rest of us going to the Rodin Museum. After a few hours admiring some pretty phenomenal bronze sculptures in a beautiful park, we snagged some lunch and met up in the early afternoon with Katrina and our French friend Clem, who is from Paris but is part of our program in Madrid and goes to school at University of Wisconsin. She walked us around a whole lot more of the city, including some window-shopping to appreciate the crazy Christmas displays. We saw a couple palaces and got some hot chocolates and cappuccinos at a café before heading over to see the Louvre pyramid at night. That pyramid is such a goofy thing to put at that palace.
Clem left us to see a play with her parents, and we didn’t see her again as she was celebrating Christmas with her family. It was very nice for the few hours she was with us to have someone who was fluent in French around, but as I said that problem wasn’t too much of an impediment.
The next day we spent in the Louvre. We were pretty exhausted after a few hours, but we only saw a fraction of the place. Its proportions are mind-boggling. Afterward we did some further walking around, ate more crepes (that happened pretty much nonstop in Paris), then went to a church near our hostel called Sacre Coeur, which is enormous and built on the highest point in Paris (that’s where we later went on Christmas Eve, too). After Sacre Coeur we went to essentially the opposite place, the Moulin Rouge, where we took some photos and left because it was sort of dodgy.
This was also the night where we thought we might do a nightclub, and we even dressed up and went to look for one that was recommended to us, but we got bored and tired and went back to the hostel after a minimum of looking. At this point we had spent about three days walking and we were pretty tired. Plus our brains were tired from the museums and culture. That was a prevalent theme of the vacation.
The next day was Christmas Eve, and not too much was open tourist-wise, so we went shopping, because of course all the stores were open (Katrina tells me they’re open for men, who apparently forget to go shopping until then). I got a pair of shoes, because it had been something like 18 months since I had and my old ones were starting to grow some extra holes. I also got a sweet hooded sweatshirt with Darth Vader’s face on the front in rhinestones. It’s probably my most ridiculous possession.
After our shopping adventure we went out to eat at… McDonald’s. It was important to all of us to eat a Royal with Cheese, as the quarter pounder is known in France, with French Fries and mayonnaise. They taste better in France, I’m convinced.
We went back to the Eiffel Tower, which seems to be the subject of roughly half of the photos I took in France, and on the way back to the hostel we ran into a group of skateboarders. Jordan, as it turns out, is an avid skateboarder, and he borrowed one of the kid’s boards and did some gravity-defying tricks for everyone. Skateboarding is a dangerous sport even to watch, I discovered. Somehow, while I was watching the skating show, I fell flat on my face on a patch of ice. Somehow I came away from it with all of my teeth, as it would seem my face hit the sidewalk at a rather high velocity. It was a Christmas miracle.
On Christmas morning we slept in pretty late and went to a nearby café that advertised a large brunch. After brunch we went to the Eiffel Tower, again, as it was essentially the only thing open that day. This time we finally went up it. This turned out to be an ordeal. There was a giant line at the base, waiting for tickets for the elevator. After waiting in line for a bit and generally questioning our resolve, we observed a sign that advised us that we had an approximately thirty minute wait until we reached the ticket counter. We decided we could deal with the extreme cold for thirty minutes, and resolved to stay in line. It turns out that the sign underestimated the wait, but we finally got tickets and moved inside to the elevator.
It was all a terrible trick. After you pay your eleven euros for the ticket, you’re pretty much committed to go to the top, and the line for the ticket was only one line of many. After we got up to the second level, we had to get out of the elevator and get into another, which would take us to the top. But here there was another line! It was much longer than the first, because the second elevator was much smaller and could take fewer people at a time. And at this level the cold was much amplified by the strong winds. At least there was a pretty cool view. Finally we made it to the second elevator, and the top of the tower, by the time it was (already!) getting dark outside. The view, of course, was stellar; we could see the entire city from the top platform, which was thankfully enclosed in glass and slightly warmer. A single flight of stairs led to an even higher level, and I went up there for a few minutes. That highest point was not enclosed in glass, and the fierce wind and extreme height was utterly terrifying, so I went back down as soon as I had snapped a couple pictures (which didn’t turn out because it was too dark by then). After we had our fill of spectacular panorama, we decided to head back to the ground… so we got back in line, this time for the elevator down. After a grand total of several hours in line we finally completed the experience, which is the kind that you feel richer for but would never repeat (too scary!). We went out to eat, and I had some wonderful French onion soup. So, that was more or less Christmas.
The next day was a travel day. We were flying out of Paris that afternoon for Glasgow, Scotland. Before we left, though, we took a train to Versailles to check out the insane palace of the French kings. It was a really awesome experience. The sheer size of the palace is difficult to comprehend, let alone the incredible wealth poured into it to deck it out with the most luxurious materials and decorations imaginable. Every once in a while on this trip you sort of had to pause to consider the historical significance of the sites we visited. In Versailles, I was struck at one moment in particular when our guide told us we were standing in the room where Benjamin Franklin and King Louis XVI signed a treaty of friendship between France and the new United States. It was very neat.
We wrapped up our visit of Versailles with soup and sandwiches at a café, then caught the train back to Paris and a bus to the airport. From there it was on to Glasgow. Like Paris, we were flown into an obscure airport a good distance outside of the city, but unlike Paris we flew in on a holiday, Boxing Day, and very limited services were in operation to take us into the city. No trains, and only one bus, which was completely full and wouldn’t take us. So we had to get a taxi, which cost a fortune and pretty much negated the savings of flying into an obscure airport. We were able to share it with a Scottish guy to help mitigate the costs, and he gave us some good advice of where to go in Scotland.
In Scotland we had planned a cost-saving measure that used a service called Couch Surfing, of which Danny is a member. We were generally intrigued by the concept. How it works is there’s this Internet community of people who like to travel for cheap, and on the condition of allowing other couch surfers to crash in your apartment you can find others who will offer you a free place to sleep while you’re on your travel adventure. Danny had already hosted a few international travelers this way, with positive results. We figured travel in Europe is generally safe, and if we can save a few bucks, why not give it a shot?
Disaster. Disaster. It was awful. The guy Danny found in Glasgow happened to be out of town at the time, but hid a key for us to use. This I’m very glad for, because considering the condition of his apartment, I don’t think I want to meet him. The place could have served as the set for a horror movie. Within minutes of arriving we had nicknamed our absent host the Serial Killer. There were piles upon piles of junk everywhere, holes in the walls, floors, and ceiling, piles of dirty dishes in the sink, exposed wires and water stains, and no heat except for what looked like the original kerosene space heater (we decided we preferred the cold to attempting to operate the space heater, with its doubtlessly mortal dangers). We were dreading finding a body or something similarly sinister.
It was too late to try to find a hotel or something, as our taxi had left and the public transportation had stopped for the night. We were also pretty tired after six days of relentless cultural experiences in Paris, so we had no choice but to try to sleep. I tried not to touch anything, or rather tried not to let anything touch me, and I slept in my winter jacket with gloves and shoes on to keep the couch as far away from my skin as possible.
The next day was cold, windy, and rainy. That did not deter our will to get outside as soon as we could gather up our things. Our priority for that morning was to find a hostel in which to spend the rest of our time in Glasgow. First, we stopped at a corner restaurant, Mac’s Café, for breakfast. As the apartment was on the outskirts of the city, and Glasgow isn’t Europe’s biggest tourist destination, I think we were probably the first foreigners to ever step into that simple, unpretentious, blue-collar worker’s café. We opened the door and stepped in from the rain, and everyone in there (most of whom seemed to be on their way to work at the nearby factories) suddenly stopped talking and turned to stare at us. It was like we were all wearing giant “We Do Not Belong” signs around our necks.
After the initial shock of the surprise entrance of four tourists, the people in the café could not have been warmer toward us. We got our food and chatted for a bit, where we’re from, what we’re doing here, our adventures, etc. The hearty food was very welcome after France’s relatively lighter fare. The café staff recommended a place for us to stay in downtown Glasgow, and then, unbelievably, told us our meal was on the house. So it was probably the best café we could possibly have wandered into. I don’t know if they felt sorry for us for not having a place to sleep that night, or if they were glad for the experience of the exchange with foreigners, if they were just really nice, or a combination of all of that, but it was a pretty awesome experience.
As we left the café, there was an old guy standing there who looked like he was an extremely experienced sailor. Jordan observed, “Ah, it stopped raining,” and the old sailor, lighting a cigarette, says in a heavy Scottish accent, “Five minutes.”
We lugged our stuff over to the new hostel, which, in apparent violation of the rules for usually uncomfortable hostels, was blissfully clean, warm, and had hot showers. As the second hostel we stayed at in Paris did not have hot water, and nobody dared take a bath at Serial Killer’s place (who didn’t even have a shower), showers were a main event on our agenda for the day. The new hostel also had laundry facilities, and we took the opportunity reduce the offensiveness of our collective odor.
We spent a good part of the day walking around central Glasgow. I bought a travel version of Clue (titled Cluedo here), which would later be enjoyably employed while waiting at airports in our journey. After some meals and further walking tours we were intrigued by a bar called Communist Bloc, which we thought was funny. We went in and had a Scottish beer, and then we went to an establishment called the Bamboo Club, which was for dancing. The Bamboo Club is the first dance club I’ve been to on this continent with a student discount, which was nice, but it was loud more than anything and I was glad to get to bed when we left.
The next day we got up early to grab a train to Edinburgh. The train ride was about 45 minutes through some very beautiful countryside. It rained for a bit on the way, and there was a huge, brilliant, full rainbow across the sky.
Edinburgh is pretty wonderful. In the park between the two sides of the city there was more green grass than I had seen in a while (and definitely had never observed in Spain). After the customary walk around the center of the city, we headed up to Calton Hill, site of several monuments and an excellent observation point for the city. From there Katrina, Jordan, and I went to Edinburgh Castle, while Danny went on a ridiculous adventure climbing one of Edinburgh’s steeper hills just as it started to rain rather hard. The castle was really cool, and has been entirely converted to museums although some of the more spectacular halls are still used for government functions. The castle is also where the Scottish crown jewels, the Honours of Scotland, are kept, so we saw those too.
It gets dark pretty early this time of year, and it was nighttime by the time we left the castle when it closed. We met up with Danny in the train station and went back to Glasgow. Once there, we grabbed some supper, hung out for a bit, then went to bed. As the trip wore on, we had to go to bed earlier and earlier, with the seemingly constant walking and museums becoming increasingly exhausting.
The next day we got breakfast in the hostel (toast and coffee) and packed our bags, as we were leaving that afternoon. After packing our bags and checking out, we locked our stuff in a storage room so as not to drag it around for the rest of the day until going to the airport. We went to Glasgow Cathedral, a beautiful Gothic building, and to the nearby Glasgow Necropolis, a spectacular, sprawling cemetery. We had planned to go to the Museum of Modern Art, as a sort of temporal counterweight to the ancient buildings and art we had seen thus far, but we ran out of time and had to catch a train to the airport. Then, onward to London.
Once in London we got some food and went to bed, as traveling consumed the majority of the day. The next morning, it was off to the British Museum to peruse their famous Egyptian collection. The highlights included the Rosetta Stone, Queen Cleopatra’s mummy, and many statues and other mummies. Cleopatra was one of those particularly striking moments, when I realized I was literally looking at one of the key players in the formation of the Roman Empire and the mother of one of Julius Caesar’s children. It was just incredible.
After the British Museum we walked around and saw the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, and as the sun was going down, Speaker’s Corner in Hyde Park. This final stop was particularly entertaining. It featured many angry people shouting many ridiculous things at one another. Religion was a popular topic, with many arguments characterized as Muslim vs. Muslim, Christian vs. Muslim, and Christian vs. Christian. I estimate 90 percent of the people there were there to watch these confrontations. As it got darker, and people were getting angrier, we thought it best to leave and go find some supper.
The next day the first thing we did was go to King’s Cross. There’s nothing really to do there, but we wanted to get photos at Platform 9 ¾ while we were in London. Afterward we split up, and I went to the Tower of London while the others went on some side adventures.
The Tower of London was somewhat pricey, but the ticket included a tour by one of the famous “Beefeaters,” who are actually members of the military tasked, among other things, with guarding the Crown Jewels, which are kept in the Tower of London. This tour was a highlight of the journey and very educational. Among the things I learned was that for 15 months during the American War of Independence, as they call the Revolution, the President of the US Congress, Henry Laurens, was held prisoner in the Tower. During his captivity he was obliged to pay room and board, which I imagine was an unpleasant arrangement.
The Crown Jewels were rather spectacular. The Star of Africa, a diamond the size of my fist, was pretty captivating to look at.
I left the Tower of London with plenty of new knowledge and went to rendezvous with the rest of the group for a quick supper. It being New Year’s Eve, we thought we’d go out to party. Unfortunately, the previous 11 days of constant adventure were weighing rather heavily upon us. Danny split off to scout out a place to watch the fireworks, while the rest of us went to find a bar. We found one after a bit, but I didn’t stay too long, and went back to the hostel. I caught some of the fireworks just after midnight, and passed out of exhaustion shortly thereafter. Sort of an anticlimactic end to 2007, but considering how much I experienced during the lead up to New Year’s I don’t feel overly bad about it. I’m actually kind of proud I even made it to midnight, as we were all very tired.
So the next day we got up and went to the airport for the final city of our journey. After the customary few hours of waiting in the airport, a couple hours in the air, and an hour from the obscure airport into Rome, it was already dark by the time we got to our hostel. We got some supper (lasagna!) and went to look at and take photos of the Coliseum at night.
The next day we got up early and Danny and I went to the Vatican. The line to get into the Vatican Museums was about six blocks and two hours long, but finally we got in and explored the product of several centuries of Popes collecting art from around the world. Some of it was pretty spectacular, and some was just overwhelming in the sheer volume of works. At the end of our winding route through the museums was the Sistine Chapel, billed by our guide as the greatest work of art in the history of mankind. After experiencing it first hand, I’ll concede that it’s an arguable position to take.
Afterward I took a walk by myself around Rome, seeing many ancient ruins, the Coliseum during the daytime, an enormous monument to unknown soldiers, the Embassy of the United States of America to the Holy See, and managing to get myself rather lost. Fortunately I found a metro stop, of which Rome has very few, so I was lucky. It turns out that Rome’s entire metro system consists of only two lines, because every time they try to dig a third they find a new ancient temple or something.
I went back to the hostel for a quick nap before reuniting with the others for supper (spaghetti!), then we hung out for a bit and hit the sack.
The following day I once again struck out on my own, returning to the Vatican to see St. Peter’s Basilica. After another rather incredible line, I was able to go into the tomb of the popes, a very solemn place where I saw, among others, the tombs of John Paul II and St. Peter the Apostle. Then I proceeded to the Basilica, whose tremendousness was beyond comprehension. It was a remarkable experience.
Following St. Peter’s Basilica, I walked to the nearby Castle of Sant’Angelo, originally the mausoleum that housed the remains of Emperor Hadrian, later a military fort, and today a museum. Just in front of the castle was the Pons Aelius, a bridge adorned with Baroque statues of angels holding elements of the Passion of Christ.
Next up was the Area Sacre, four ancient temples discovered in the early stages of the development of an apartment complex. The temples were once on ground level, but ground level in Rome is much higher today than it once was due to millennia of building and rebuilding. The four temples are thus in a giant hole, as they’ve been excavated since discovery, and are now open to the air for people to view them. Interestingly, the hole was also occupied with dozens of cats. A sign informed me that they were kept there, fed, vaccinated, and sterilized as part of an animal charity. It seems to me like a weird place to put your charity. The next temple on my tour was the Pantheon, which remains today in remarkably good condition because it was donated to the very early Catholic church, which subsequently preserved it as the rest of Rome was torn down and rebuilt over and over during the centuries. Its giant dome is a remarkable accomplishment of ancient engineering.
After this I walked down the main street in the shopping district, primarily because it was in the way, as at this point in the trip my considerably lighter wallet made the idea of shopping rather infeasible. Off on a side street I saw the virtually forgotten tomb of Caesar Augustus, a giant and heavily overgrown mound. Then on to the end of the shopping street, where there was a large plaza where tourists were test-driving Segways. After joining back up with the rest of the group and getting something to eat, since we had all had a little more sleep than we had had in London, we decided to have another go at celebrating the new year. We went to a nearby dance pub, and we were the only ones there, but we made the best of it and had a great time.
The next day was our last full day in Rome. We slept in a little and had a late breakfast, and Jordan and I had some spectacular cappuccinos. I was in the process of remarking how the cappuccinos (we each had two) probably ranked in the top eight I had consumed when we were presented with the bill and discovered our miniscule, delicious cappuccinos cost five euro each. Thirty dollars for cappuccinos. That was an unpleasant surprise, but didn’t diminish how delightful the drink was.
So after that Jordan and I went to the Coliseum for our day of guided tours. First we learned all about the Flavian Amphitheater, as the Coliseum is officially called, and its remarkable history, before breaking for lunch. Then our tour resumed at Palatino, the hill where the Roman emperors built their palaces. In fact, we learned that the word “palace” is derived from the name of the hill, because it was where the emperors lived. This was another one of those places where the dimensions of the place are astounding, however as the palace is in ruins you had to rely a lot more on your imagination.
The first settlement in Rome was upon Palatino Hill, and we saw the excavation of what’s believed to be the abode of Romulus, Rome’s first king, in 750 BC. Here was the final and most significant of the striking moments when I realized I was standing in the presence of history. I can’t think of an event with greater ramifications for the entire planet than the founding of Rome, the vehicle of such potency that it carried Greek philosophers’ concepts of government all the way to the democracies of the West in the 21st century. The consequences of the events in that place are impressive centuries later.
Continuing the great feeling of awe of where we were, we carried on to the Forum, and the ancient Roman Senate. Although this place is also in ruins, it is nonetheless imposing both in size and significance. We stayed until the guards of the ancient complex ushered us out, and the last photo before my memory card was full was of the sunset over the forum, and it was, appropriately, a spectacular sunset.
And that was it. We had one last meal in Rome, slept, and woke up on the fifth of January and returned to Madrid, heads full of new knowledge and a strong desire to go back to bed. I pretty much slept for two days after we got back. I think that’ll be my last marathon tour of a continent for the foreseeable future—from now on, all my vacations will have fifty percent downtime built in!
Stay tuned for photos.
It takes about a half-hour bus ride from the city to arrive at the suburb that contains the mall, appropriately named Xanadu, as it’s a rather hedonistic place. The ski area is essentially an enormous, warehouse-sized freezer, replete with snowmaking equipment and a chairlift to service the single slope. I went on a Tuesday, so it wasn’t too crowded, which I was a little anxious about since it’s the kind of place that beginners pile into in order to learn how to ski before going to an actual ski resort. 35 euro bought me a half day lift ticket and full rental equipment, which is a little more than I would have liked to pay considering there was one slope only, but really how often do you get the chance to ski indoors? So that was an interesting afternoon. I’m posting a couple photos of the place.
Okay, so I’ve had some downtime to think about it and should probably get to the Christmas vacation. I’m really glad that I took notes while it was going on, or I’m not sure I’d be able to separate one cultural experience from the next. The nonstop barrage of history and culture really wears you down after a while.
So, after class on Thursday, December 20, fellow Hoosiers Danny and Katrina and Marquette University junior Jordan and I all hopped on the metro to head out to the airport. Danny and I opted out of the 8-euro-per-flight charge ($12, x5 flights) to check luggage, and instead were sporting enormous hiking backpacks, filled with the bare minimum amount of clothes for two weeks. I figured I could get by on a handful of t-shirts and two pairs of pants as long as I had two weeks’ worth of undies, yet remarkably I came home last weekend with some still-clean clothes. I must have been more economical than necessary in deciding when to change; I don’t like to think about what I smelled like.
So anyway, we arrived at a seldom used and very cheap airport far outside of Paris on Thursday night. Our flight cost us 1 euro cent, and with taxes and fees was bumped up to 13 euros. That price simply cannot be beat. Unfortunately, that price also put us at an airport so far outside of the city that we had to pay an additional 13 euro for a bus that would take us close enough to the city that we could take the metro to our hostel.
It was pretty late by this time, so we hauled our stuff up to our room, snagged some pizza at an Algerian pizzeria next door, and went to bed. As if by some European hostel regulation, every hostel on our trip could only possess two of three qualities between Hot Water, Cleanliness, or Any Heating at All, and the first hostel in Paris chose the first two. I must have worn almost all the clothes I had with me, and a scarf, to sleep the first night.
The next day we got up decently early to see Notre Dame. It was a remarkably clear day, and quite cold. Of course, the cathedral was very beautiful, and we climbed its bell towers to for a remarkable view of almost the entire city.
After probably a couple hours in the cathedral we crossed the river for a French Christmas drink, hot spiced wine, in a café with a view of the cathedral. It was pretty excellent, but the location probably doubled the price of the drink so it was kind of a mixed bag that way. We went on quite a long walk, just looking at the city, and picked up many different kinds of crepes many times during the day from street vendors. My favorite was the ham-cheese-egg crepe combo, virtually a handheld omelet.
We saw all sorts of things on our walk, from the Louvre (did not go in that day) to the Arc de Triomphe and Avenue des Champs-Élysées. It gets dark pretty early this time of year all over Europe, so by the time we were coming back from the Arc it the sun was already pretty much down. We stopped by the Toyota Store, where curiously they did not seem to be selling any cars, to look at some of the concept vehicles on display. Inside we found all kinds of interesting attractions. There were free massages, a “Synergy Bar” where they made you different kinds of obscure herbal teas, several interactive displays of Toyota technology, and an Oxygen Bar, where you don what looks like a phone headset, but instead of a microphone in front of your face there is a tube that delivers scented oxygen to just in front of your nose. I tried citrus oxygen. The whole place was pretty goofy, and also free, so totally worthwhile.
We continued our walk and saw the Eiffel Tower at night. Paris isn’t a very tall city, and the Eiffel Tower is a good distance from the nearest skyscraper, so there’s nothing to put its incredible size in perspective. It’s got a different character lit up at night than during the day, when it’s much more stately, I suppose. There is something of a light show at night, as the entire tower is wired with strobe lights so it periodically totally spazzes out and flashes for a few minutes. It’s really very neat.
Afterward we went to dinner at a restaurant near our hostel and got some desserts at a pastry shop. We found that most people we spoke to knew enough English to help us get by—and were surprisingly patient and gracious about it (we saw so many more smiles in Paris in six days than we have in four months in Madrid, where we can actually speak the language)—and for the rest of the time Katrina had taken a few years of high school French, which was more or less sufficient for our purposes.
We separated the next day, with Katrina going shopping and the rest of us going to the Rodin Museum. After a few hours admiring some pretty phenomenal bronze sculptures in a beautiful park, we snagged some lunch and met up in the early afternoon with Katrina and our French friend Clem, who is from Paris but is part of our program in Madrid and goes to school at University of Wisconsin. She walked us around a whole lot more of the city, including some window-shopping to appreciate the crazy Christmas displays. We saw a couple palaces and got some hot chocolates and cappuccinos at a café before heading over to see the Louvre pyramid at night. That pyramid is such a goofy thing to put at that palace.
Clem left us to see a play with her parents, and we didn’t see her again as she was celebrating Christmas with her family. It was very nice for the few hours she was with us to have someone who was fluent in French around, but as I said that problem wasn’t too much of an impediment.
The next day we spent in the Louvre. We were pretty exhausted after a few hours, but we only saw a fraction of the place. Its proportions are mind-boggling. Afterward we did some further walking around, ate more crepes (that happened pretty much nonstop in Paris), then went to a church near our hostel called Sacre Coeur, which is enormous and built on the highest point in Paris (that’s where we later went on Christmas Eve, too). After Sacre Coeur we went to essentially the opposite place, the Moulin Rouge, where we took some photos and left because it was sort of dodgy.
This was also the night where we thought we might do a nightclub, and we even dressed up and went to look for one that was recommended to us, but we got bored and tired and went back to the hostel after a minimum of looking. At this point we had spent about three days walking and we were pretty tired. Plus our brains were tired from the museums and culture. That was a prevalent theme of the vacation.
The next day was Christmas Eve, and not too much was open tourist-wise, so we went shopping, because of course all the stores were open (Katrina tells me they’re open for men, who apparently forget to go shopping until then). I got a pair of shoes, because it had been something like 18 months since I had and my old ones were starting to grow some extra holes. I also got a sweet hooded sweatshirt with Darth Vader’s face on the front in rhinestones. It’s probably my most ridiculous possession.
After our shopping adventure we went out to eat at… McDonald’s. It was important to all of us to eat a Royal with Cheese, as the quarter pounder is known in France, with French Fries and mayonnaise. They taste better in France, I’m convinced.
We went back to the Eiffel Tower, which seems to be the subject of roughly half of the photos I took in France, and on the way back to the hostel we ran into a group of skateboarders. Jordan, as it turns out, is an avid skateboarder, and he borrowed one of the kid’s boards and did some gravity-defying tricks for everyone. Skateboarding is a dangerous sport even to watch, I discovered. Somehow, while I was watching the skating show, I fell flat on my face on a patch of ice. Somehow I came away from it with all of my teeth, as it would seem my face hit the sidewalk at a rather high velocity. It was a Christmas miracle.
On Christmas morning we slept in pretty late and went to a nearby café that advertised a large brunch. After brunch we went to the Eiffel Tower, again, as it was essentially the only thing open that day. This time we finally went up it. This turned out to be an ordeal. There was a giant line at the base, waiting for tickets for the elevator. After waiting in line for a bit and generally questioning our resolve, we observed a sign that advised us that we had an approximately thirty minute wait until we reached the ticket counter. We decided we could deal with the extreme cold for thirty minutes, and resolved to stay in line. It turns out that the sign underestimated the wait, but we finally got tickets and moved inside to the elevator.
It was all a terrible trick. After you pay your eleven euros for the ticket, you’re pretty much committed to go to the top, and the line for the ticket was only one line of many. After we got up to the second level, we had to get out of the elevator and get into another, which would take us to the top. But here there was another line! It was much longer than the first, because the second elevator was much smaller and could take fewer people at a time. And at this level the cold was much amplified by the strong winds. At least there was a pretty cool view. Finally we made it to the second elevator, and the top of the tower, by the time it was (already!) getting dark outside. The view, of course, was stellar; we could see the entire city from the top platform, which was thankfully enclosed in glass and slightly warmer. A single flight of stairs led to an even higher level, and I went up there for a few minutes. That highest point was not enclosed in glass, and the fierce wind and extreme height was utterly terrifying, so I went back down as soon as I had snapped a couple pictures (which didn’t turn out because it was too dark by then). After we had our fill of spectacular panorama, we decided to head back to the ground… so we got back in line, this time for the elevator down. After a grand total of several hours in line we finally completed the experience, which is the kind that you feel richer for but would never repeat (too scary!). We went out to eat, and I had some wonderful French onion soup. So, that was more or less Christmas.
The next day was a travel day. We were flying out of Paris that afternoon for Glasgow, Scotland. Before we left, though, we took a train to Versailles to check out the insane palace of the French kings. It was a really awesome experience. The sheer size of the palace is difficult to comprehend, let alone the incredible wealth poured into it to deck it out with the most luxurious materials and decorations imaginable. Every once in a while on this trip you sort of had to pause to consider the historical significance of the sites we visited. In Versailles, I was struck at one moment in particular when our guide told us we were standing in the room where Benjamin Franklin and King Louis XVI signed a treaty of friendship between France and the new United States. It was very neat.
We wrapped up our visit of Versailles with soup and sandwiches at a café, then caught the train back to Paris and a bus to the airport. From there it was on to Glasgow. Like Paris, we were flown into an obscure airport a good distance outside of the city, but unlike Paris we flew in on a holiday, Boxing Day, and very limited services were in operation to take us into the city. No trains, and only one bus, which was completely full and wouldn’t take us. So we had to get a taxi, which cost a fortune and pretty much negated the savings of flying into an obscure airport. We were able to share it with a Scottish guy to help mitigate the costs, and he gave us some good advice of where to go in Scotland.
In Scotland we had planned a cost-saving measure that used a service called Couch Surfing, of which Danny is a member. We were generally intrigued by the concept. How it works is there’s this Internet community of people who like to travel for cheap, and on the condition of allowing other couch surfers to crash in your apartment you can find others who will offer you a free place to sleep while you’re on your travel adventure. Danny had already hosted a few international travelers this way, with positive results. We figured travel in Europe is generally safe, and if we can save a few bucks, why not give it a shot?
Disaster. Disaster. It was awful. The guy Danny found in Glasgow happened to be out of town at the time, but hid a key for us to use. This I’m very glad for, because considering the condition of his apartment, I don’t think I want to meet him. The place could have served as the set for a horror movie. Within minutes of arriving we had nicknamed our absent host the Serial Killer. There were piles upon piles of junk everywhere, holes in the walls, floors, and ceiling, piles of dirty dishes in the sink, exposed wires and water stains, and no heat except for what looked like the original kerosene space heater (we decided we preferred the cold to attempting to operate the space heater, with its doubtlessly mortal dangers). We were dreading finding a body or something similarly sinister.
It was too late to try to find a hotel or something, as our taxi had left and the public transportation had stopped for the night. We were also pretty tired after six days of relentless cultural experiences in Paris, so we had no choice but to try to sleep. I tried not to touch anything, or rather tried not to let anything touch me, and I slept in my winter jacket with gloves and shoes on to keep the couch as far away from my skin as possible.
The next day was cold, windy, and rainy. That did not deter our will to get outside as soon as we could gather up our things. Our priority for that morning was to find a hostel in which to spend the rest of our time in Glasgow. First, we stopped at a corner restaurant, Mac’s Café, for breakfast. As the apartment was on the outskirts of the city, and Glasgow isn’t Europe’s biggest tourist destination, I think we were probably the first foreigners to ever step into that simple, unpretentious, blue-collar worker’s café. We opened the door and stepped in from the rain, and everyone in there (most of whom seemed to be on their way to work at the nearby factories) suddenly stopped talking and turned to stare at us. It was like we were all wearing giant “We Do Not Belong” signs around our necks.
After the initial shock of the surprise entrance of four tourists, the people in the café could not have been warmer toward us. We got our food and chatted for a bit, where we’re from, what we’re doing here, our adventures, etc. The hearty food was very welcome after France’s relatively lighter fare. The café staff recommended a place for us to stay in downtown Glasgow, and then, unbelievably, told us our meal was on the house. So it was probably the best café we could possibly have wandered into. I don’t know if they felt sorry for us for not having a place to sleep that night, or if they were glad for the experience of the exchange with foreigners, if they were just really nice, or a combination of all of that, but it was a pretty awesome experience.
As we left the café, there was an old guy standing there who looked like he was an extremely experienced sailor. Jordan observed, “Ah, it stopped raining,” and the old sailor, lighting a cigarette, says in a heavy Scottish accent, “Five minutes.”
We lugged our stuff over to the new hostel, which, in apparent violation of the rules for usually uncomfortable hostels, was blissfully clean, warm, and had hot showers. As the second hostel we stayed at in Paris did not have hot water, and nobody dared take a bath at Serial Killer’s place (who didn’t even have a shower), showers were a main event on our agenda for the day. The new hostel also had laundry facilities, and we took the opportunity reduce the offensiveness of our collective odor.
We spent a good part of the day walking around central Glasgow. I bought a travel version of Clue (titled Cluedo here), which would later be enjoyably employed while waiting at airports in our journey. After some meals and further walking tours we were intrigued by a bar called Communist Bloc, which we thought was funny. We went in and had a Scottish beer, and then we went to an establishment called the Bamboo Club, which was for dancing. The Bamboo Club is the first dance club I’ve been to on this continent with a student discount, which was nice, but it was loud more than anything and I was glad to get to bed when we left.
The next day we got up early to grab a train to Edinburgh. The train ride was about 45 minutes through some very beautiful countryside. It rained for a bit on the way, and there was a huge, brilliant, full rainbow across the sky.
Edinburgh is pretty wonderful. In the park between the two sides of the city there was more green grass than I had seen in a while (and definitely had never observed in Spain). After the customary walk around the center of the city, we headed up to Calton Hill, site of several monuments and an excellent observation point for the city. From there Katrina, Jordan, and I went to Edinburgh Castle, while Danny went on a ridiculous adventure climbing one of Edinburgh’s steeper hills just as it started to rain rather hard. The castle was really cool, and has been entirely converted to museums although some of the more spectacular halls are still used for government functions. The castle is also where the Scottish crown jewels, the Honours of Scotland, are kept, so we saw those too.
It gets dark pretty early this time of year, and it was nighttime by the time we left the castle when it closed. We met up with Danny in the train station and went back to Glasgow. Once there, we grabbed some supper, hung out for a bit, then went to bed. As the trip wore on, we had to go to bed earlier and earlier, with the seemingly constant walking and museums becoming increasingly exhausting.
The next day we got breakfast in the hostel (toast and coffee) and packed our bags, as we were leaving that afternoon. After packing our bags and checking out, we locked our stuff in a storage room so as not to drag it around for the rest of the day until going to the airport. We went to Glasgow Cathedral, a beautiful Gothic building, and to the nearby Glasgow Necropolis, a spectacular, sprawling cemetery. We had planned to go to the Museum of Modern Art, as a sort of temporal counterweight to the ancient buildings and art we had seen thus far, but we ran out of time and had to catch a train to the airport. Then, onward to London.
Once in London we got some food and went to bed, as traveling consumed the majority of the day. The next morning, it was off to the British Museum to peruse their famous Egyptian collection. The highlights included the Rosetta Stone, Queen Cleopatra’s mummy, and many statues and other mummies. Cleopatra was one of those particularly striking moments, when I realized I was literally looking at one of the key players in the formation of the Roman Empire and the mother of one of Julius Caesar’s children. It was just incredible.
After the British Museum we walked around and saw the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, and as the sun was going down, Speaker’s Corner in Hyde Park. This final stop was particularly entertaining. It featured many angry people shouting many ridiculous things at one another. Religion was a popular topic, with many arguments characterized as Muslim vs. Muslim, Christian vs. Muslim, and Christian vs. Christian. I estimate 90 percent of the people there were there to watch these confrontations. As it got darker, and people were getting angrier, we thought it best to leave and go find some supper.
The next day the first thing we did was go to King’s Cross. There’s nothing really to do there, but we wanted to get photos at Platform 9 ¾ while we were in London. Afterward we split up, and I went to the Tower of London while the others went on some side adventures.
The Tower of London was somewhat pricey, but the ticket included a tour by one of the famous “Beefeaters,” who are actually members of the military tasked, among other things, with guarding the Crown Jewels, which are kept in the Tower of London. This tour was a highlight of the journey and very educational. Among the things I learned was that for 15 months during the American War of Independence, as they call the Revolution, the President of the US Congress, Henry Laurens, was held prisoner in the Tower. During his captivity he was obliged to pay room and board, which I imagine was an unpleasant arrangement.
The Crown Jewels were rather spectacular. The Star of Africa, a diamond the size of my fist, was pretty captivating to look at.
I left the Tower of London with plenty of new knowledge and went to rendezvous with the rest of the group for a quick supper. It being New Year’s Eve, we thought we’d go out to party. Unfortunately, the previous 11 days of constant adventure were weighing rather heavily upon us. Danny split off to scout out a place to watch the fireworks, while the rest of us went to find a bar. We found one after a bit, but I didn’t stay too long, and went back to the hostel. I caught some of the fireworks just after midnight, and passed out of exhaustion shortly thereafter. Sort of an anticlimactic end to 2007, but considering how much I experienced during the lead up to New Year’s I don’t feel overly bad about it. I’m actually kind of proud I even made it to midnight, as we were all very tired.
So the next day we got up and went to the airport for the final city of our journey. After the customary few hours of waiting in the airport, a couple hours in the air, and an hour from the obscure airport into Rome, it was already dark by the time we got to our hostel. We got some supper (lasagna!) and went to look at and take photos of the Coliseum at night.
The next day we got up early and Danny and I went to the Vatican. The line to get into the Vatican Museums was about six blocks and two hours long, but finally we got in and explored the product of several centuries of Popes collecting art from around the world. Some of it was pretty spectacular, and some was just overwhelming in the sheer volume of works. At the end of our winding route through the museums was the Sistine Chapel, billed by our guide as the greatest work of art in the history of mankind. After experiencing it first hand, I’ll concede that it’s an arguable position to take.
Afterward I took a walk by myself around Rome, seeing many ancient ruins, the Coliseum during the daytime, an enormous monument to unknown soldiers, the Embassy of the United States of America to the Holy See, and managing to get myself rather lost. Fortunately I found a metro stop, of which Rome has very few, so I was lucky. It turns out that Rome’s entire metro system consists of only two lines, because every time they try to dig a third they find a new ancient temple or something.
I went back to the hostel for a quick nap before reuniting with the others for supper (spaghetti!), then we hung out for a bit and hit the sack.
The following day I once again struck out on my own, returning to the Vatican to see St. Peter’s Basilica. After another rather incredible line, I was able to go into the tomb of the popes, a very solemn place where I saw, among others, the tombs of John Paul II and St. Peter the Apostle. Then I proceeded to the Basilica, whose tremendousness was beyond comprehension. It was a remarkable experience.
Following St. Peter’s Basilica, I walked to the nearby Castle of Sant’Angelo, originally the mausoleum that housed the remains of Emperor Hadrian, later a military fort, and today a museum. Just in front of the castle was the Pons Aelius, a bridge adorned with Baroque statues of angels holding elements of the Passion of Christ.
Next up was the Area Sacre, four ancient temples discovered in the early stages of the development of an apartment complex. The temples were once on ground level, but ground level in Rome is much higher today than it once was due to millennia of building and rebuilding. The four temples are thus in a giant hole, as they’ve been excavated since discovery, and are now open to the air for people to view them. Interestingly, the hole was also occupied with dozens of cats. A sign informed me that they were kept there, fed, vaccinated, and sterilized as part of an animal charity. It seems to me like a weird place to put your charity. The next temple on my tour was the Pantheon, which remains today in remarkably good condition because it was donated to the very early Catholic church, which subsequently preserved it as the rest of Rome was torn down and rebuilt over and over during the centuries. Its giant dome is a remarkable accomplishment of ancient engineering.
After this I walked down the main street in the shopping district, primarily because it was in the way, as at this point in the trip my considerably lighter wallet made the idea of shopping rather infeasible. Off on a side street I saw the virtually forgotten tomb of Caesar Augustus, a giant and heavily overgrown mound. Then on to the end of the shopping street, where there was a large plaza where tourists were test-driving Segways. After joining back up with the rest of the group and getting something to eat, since we had all had a little more sleep than we had had in London, we decided to have another go at celebrating the new year. We went to a nearby dance pub, and we were the only ones there, but we made the best of it and had a great time.
The next day was our last full day in Rome. We slept in a little and had a late breakfast, and Jordan and I had some spectacular cappuccinos. I was in the process of remarking how the cappuccinos (we each had two) probably ranked in the top eight I had consumed when we were presented with the bill and discovered our miniscule, delicious cappuccinos cost five euro each. Thirty dollars for cappuccinos. That was an unpleasant surprise, but didn’t diminish how delightful the drink was.
So after that Jordan and I went to the Coliseum for our day of guided tours. First we learned all about the Flavian Amphitheater, as the Coliseum is officially called, and its remarkable history, before breaking for lunch. Then our tour resumed at Palatino, the hill where the Roman emperors built their palaces. In fact, we learned that the word “palace” is derived from the name of the hill, because it was where the emperors lived. This was another one of those places where the dimensions of the place are astounding, however as the palace is in ruins you had to rely a lot more on your imagination.
The first settlement in Rome was upon Palatino Hill, and we saw the excavation of what’s believed to be the abode of Romulus, Rome’s first king, in 750 BC. Here was the final and most significant of the striking moments when I realized I was standing in the presence of history. I can’t think of an event with greater ramifications for the entire planet than the founding of Rome, the vehicle of such potency that it carried Greek philosophers’ concepts of government all the way to the democracies of the West in the 21st century. The consequences of the events in that place are impressive centuries later.
Continuing the great feeling of awe of where we were, we carried on to the Forum, and the ancient Roman Senate. Although this place is also in ruins, it is nonetheless imposing both in size and significance. We stayed until the guards of the ancient complex ushered us out, and the last photo before my memory card was full was of the sunset over the forum, and it was, appropriately, a spectacular sunset.
And that was it. We had one last meal in Rome, slept, and woke up on the fifth of January and returned to Madrid, heads full of new knowledge and a strong desire to go back to bed. I pretty much slept for two days after we got back. I think that’ll be my last marathon tour of a continent for the foreseeable future—from now on, all my vacations will have fifty percent downtime built in!
Stay tuned for photos.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Fotos
Here are some old pictures to look at while I wrap up my Christmas adventure.
 |
| Autumn at the University |
 |
| Weekend in Cordoba |
Just a little while longer
To those of you who have been pushing for something to be posted here (Mom), it's taking me a little longer than I expected to record my thoughts. I'm on my way to class now, but it's the weekend and I should have some spare time to finish it up and get my Christmas adventures posted here in the near future.
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Goodness
It's been a very long two weeks. I'm back in Madrid from my marathon tour of Europe. I've got just over a thousand photographs to sort through, and memories of five European cities in four countries to record, and then I'll relive here my Christmas adventures for anyone who's interested in reading them. A belated Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to everyone, since I was deprived of the Internet when those things happened. Cheers!
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Thanksgiving, and the preceding weekend
Internet is finally working again. Here's something I wrote last week:
Last weekend my program took us all on a trip to southern Spain, to the city of Córdoba. We took a roughly five-hour bus ride through the mountains that separate Castilla La Mancha, in the center of which is Madrid, and Andalusía, derived from the Arabic name for the peninsula, Al Andalus, or The Land of Light. Córdoba was for a time the capital of the Al Andalus province of the Islamic Caliphate about a thousand years ago, and thus has a strong Arabic character to its architecture.
After arriving in the city we dropped off our things in the hotel and split up for lunch. I went with a group to a restaurant that specialized in bull’s tail, apparently a local delicacy. I ended up getting fish and a local soup instead, as I wasn’t feeling that brave at the time, a move I feel pretty comfortable with. My braver peers opted for bull’s tail, and they said it was good, but I think their assertions of this were a little forced!
We met back up for a tour of the Catedral of Córdoba. In the fifteenth century, when the Christian kingdoms of the north reconquered this city, the first order of business was to consecrate the enormous mosque as a Catholic cathedral. By the mid sixteenth century, the mosque had undergone some radical changes in architecture. Much of it preserves its original Islamic design, but in the center there has been built an enormous Gothic chapel with a cavernous cathedral ceiling and everything. It’s a really spectacular fusion of the architecture of the two Abrahamic traditions.
We left the Mosque/Cathedral to tour the Jewish Quarter and a synagogue, thus rounding out the big three monotheisms. The synagogue was a lot less imposing, but nevertheless still interesting. The Islamic rule of the peninsula was characterized at the time with a remarkable religious tolerance, and Christians and Jews were allowed to practice their own faith. Unfortunately the new Catholic kingdom did not continue that tradition of religious tolerance, and the Jews were expelled from Spain in 1492 and the Muslims in the early 16th century. It was very interesting to see what’s been preserved and restored of the Jewish heritage in that portion of the tour.
Next up we saw the ancient Roman wall that used to protect the city, and the Alcazar, the castle where the Catholic Kings stayed when visiting Córdoba. This castle is for the most part in disrepair. A couple exposed excavations revealed the Roman foundations of the castle, buried under what’s left.
From there we split up and chilled until supper, provided by our program. Chilling resumed after supper, and in the morning we hopped back on the bus and drove just outside the city, where we toured the enormous archaeological excavation of Madinat al-Zahra, the palace city that was the seat of the Caliphate government in Al Andalus. It was a beautiful, clear, sunny day, and we got a bunch of pictures of the ruins.
Following the tour we went back into the city for lunch on our own, then back on the bus for Madrid.
My immune system seems to have a burning desire to face off against every germ on this continent, and a good deal of my time here has been spent cycling through various iterations of the cold. This week was my first decent bout of the flu, however. This was spectacularly unfortunate, because Monday was the day I had been looking forward to for months when Grandma and Grandpa Murto were visiting me in Madrid. Fortunately they have had their flu shots, so I met them at their hotel and we walked around some central areas of Madrid together, Gran Via and Plaza del Sol. We got a light lunch together and went back to their hotel. They were pretty tired from their flight, and I was spent from the whole flu business, so I left them in their room and went back to my apartment to take a nap (I didn’t have class on Monday). The original plan was to go out for supper Monday night, but my doctor here and my grandparents both insisted I stayed in and rested. With the exception of waking up to go to the doctor on Monday evening, I essentially slept until Tuesday, when Grandma and Grandpa visited my apartment. We went for lunch at a little restaurant about a block from my apartment. It was lovely, and afterward I walked them to their bus stop and directed them how to find their way back to their hotel. Our time together was much too short, but they only had a couple days in Madrid. Their tour group was continuing on to Toledo and Córdoba, and more of southern Spain and Morocco, and ultimately Portugal. I was really bummed to have to say bye to them again so soon, but I’m sure they’re having a pretty stellar adventure wherever they are right now in Spain.
I was feeling a lot better by Thanksgiving. Our program paid for our dinner at a medium-classy restaurant about three blocks from my apartment. I had steak and French fries. It was the most American thing you could get; no turkey, mashed potatoes, or pies were available. It was pretty good, but of course I miss my family. Thanksgiving is better spent in Indiana.
I feel like that essentially catches things up. Next week three of my classes have midterms, so I’m studying for those right now. Linguistics, Hispanic American Literature, and Spanish Foreign Policy. Should be a piece of cake.
I don’t know when you’ll be able to read this, because my Internet connection is nonfunctioning. Unfortunately you have to pay for it whether it works or not, so hopefully it will kick back in soon.
Bye.
Last weekend my program took us all on a trip to southern Spain, to the city of Córdoba. We took a roughly five-hour bus ride through the mountains that separate Castilla La Mancha, in the center of which is Madrid, and Andalusía, derived from the Arabic name for the peninsula, Al Andalus, or The Land of Light. Córdoba was for a time the capital of the Al Andalus province of the Islamic Caliphate about a thousand years ago, and thus has a strong Arabic character to its architecture.
After arriving in the city we dropped off our things in the hotel and split up for lunch. I went with a group to a restaurant that specialized in bull’s tail, apparently a local delicacy. I ended up getting fish and a local soup instead, as I wasn’t feeling that brave at the time, a move I feel pretty comfortable with. My braver peers opted for bull’s tail, and they said it was good, but I think their assertions of this were a little forced!
We met back up for a tour of the Catedral of Córdoba. In the fifteenth century, when the Christian kingdoms of the north reconquered this city, the first order of business was to consecrate the enormous mosque as a Catholic cathedral. By the mid sixteenth century, the mosque had undergone some radical changes in architecture. Much of it preserves its original Islamic design, but in the center there has been built an enormous Gothic chapel with a cavernous cathedral ceiling and everything. It’s a really spectacular fusion of the architecture of the two Abrahamic traditions.
We left the Mosque/Cathedral to tour the Jewish Quarter and a synagogue, thus rounding out the big three monotheisms. The synagogue was a lot less imposing, but nevertheless still interesting. The Islamic rule of the peninsula was characterized at the time with a remarkable religious tolerance, and Christians and Jews were allowed to practice their own faith. Unfortunately the new Catholic kingdom did not continue that tradition of religious tolerance, and the Jews were expelled from Spain in 1492 and the Muslims in the early 16th century. It was very interesting to see what’s been preserved and restored of the Jewish heritage in that portion of the tour.
Next up we saw the ancient Roman wall that used to protect the city, and the Alcazar, the castle where the Catholic Kings stayed when visiting Córdoba. This castle is for the most part in disrepair. A couple exposed excavations revealed the Roman foundations of the castle, buried under what’s left.
From there we split up and chilled until supper, provided by our program. Chilling resumed after supper, and in the morning we hopped back on the bus and drove just outside the city, where we toured the enormous archaeological excavation of Madinat al-Zahra, the palace city that was the seat of the Caliphate government in Al Andalus. It was a beautiful, clear, sunny day, and we got a bunch of pictures of the ruins.
Following the tour we went back into the city for lunch on our own, then back on the bus for Madrid.
My immune system seems to have a burning desire to face off against every germ on this continent, and a good deal of my time here has been spent cycling through various iterations of the cold. This week was my first decent bout of the flu, however. This was spectacularly unfortunate, because Monday was the day I had been looking forward to for months when Grandma and Grandpa Murto were visiting me in Madrid. Fortunately they have had their flu shots, so I met them at their hotel and we walked around some central areas of Madrid together, Gran Via and Plaza del Sol. We got a light lunch together and went back to their hotel. They were pretty tired from their flight, and I was spent from the whole flu business, so I left them in their room and went back to my apartment to take a nap (I didn’t have class on Monday). The original plan was to go out for supper Monday night, but my doctor here and my grandparents both insisted I stayed in and rested. With the exception of waking up to go to the doctor on Monday evening, I essentially slept until Tuesday, when Grandma and Grandpa visited my apartment. We went for lunch at a little restaurant about a block from my apartment. It was lovely, and afterward I walked them to their bus stop and directed them how to find their way back to their hotel. Our time together was much too short, but they only had a couple days in Madrid. Their tour group was continuing on to Toledo and Córdoba, and more of southern Spain and Morocco, and ultimately Portugal. I was really bummed to have to say bye to them again so soon, but I’m sure they’re having a pretty stellar adventure wherever they are right now in Spain.
I was feeling a lot better by Thanksgiving. Our program paid for our dinner at a medium-classy restaurant about three blocks from my apartment. I had steak and French fries. It was the most American thing you could get; no turkey, mashed potatoes, or pies were available. It was pretty good, but of course I miss my family. Thanksgiving is better spent in Indiana.
I feel like that essentially catches things up. Next week three of my classes have midterms, so I’m studying for those right now. Linguistics, Hispanic American Literature, and Spanish Foreign Policy. Should be a piece of cake.
I don’t know when you’ll be able to read this, because my Internet connection is nonfunctioning. Unfortunately you have to pay for it whether it works or not, so hopefully it will kick back in soon.
Bye.
Sunday, November 11, 2007
Another Long Weekend
Friday was another national holiday, so today concludes the second long weekend in the past two weeks. Normally I would find this delightful, but frankly I've been somewhat frustrated lately with how little is accomplished in class at the school. Every lecture starts late, ends early, and isn't nearly as in depth as I feel my (and my parent's, and the federal government's) tuition dollars should buy. But that's how it goes in a laid back country such as this.
On Friday I went with my fellow Hoosier Danny and a girl from Texas to a flamenco show here in Madrid. It was the third such show I've seen, and was pretty good. A prized skill in flamenco dancing is the extreme rapidity with which the dancers can tap their heels against the stage in something of a human drum-roll, and one of the dancer's on Friday was so accomplished at this that the motion of his legs was blurred and he scooted across the stage like a cell phone placed on vibrate, ringing and sliding across a desk. This flamenco show was also accompanied by some excellent sangria.
Yesterday I went to the movies with some Spanish students. They wanted to practice their English so we saw "Death at a Funeral" in English, with Spanish subtitles. It was a fun movie, with its occasionally smart and dry British humor, but not necessarily memorable. Then we met up with some other American students and went to a bar called Las Cuevas del Sésamo, which was once frequented by Ernest Hemingway, amongst other canonical writers whom I don't recall at the moment. It was a delightful experience, very reminiscent of Rick's from "Casablanca." Low-key music was provided by a pianist in a bow tie, one table away from ours, lifted straight out of the 1940s. Immediately after leaving this bar, we tempered the high-culture weekend with a trip to McDonald's, because everyone seemed to be in the mood for some greasy food.
Today is for catching up on some reading, for both homework and leisure. Adiós.
On Friday I went with my fellow Hoosier Danny and a girl from Texas to a flamenco show here in Madrid. It was the third such show I've seen, and was pretty good. A prized skill in flamenco dancing is the extreme rapidity with which the dancers can tap their heels against the stage in something of a human drum-roll, and one of the dancer's on Friday was so accomplished at this that the motion of his legs was blurred and he scooted across the stage like a cell phone placed on vibrate, ringing and sliding across a desk. This flamenco show was also accompanied by some excellent sangria.
Yesterday I went to the movies with some Spanish students. They wanted to practice their English so we saw "Death at a Funeral" in English, with Spanish subtitles. It was a fun movie, with its occasionally smart and dry British humor, but not necessarily memorable. Then we met up with some other American students and went to a bar called Las Cuevas del Sésamo, which was once frequented by Ernest Hemingway, amongst other canonical writers whom I don't recall at the moment. It was a delightful experience, very reminiscent of Rick's from "Casablanca." Low-key music was provided by a pianist in a bow tie, one table away from ours, lifted straight out of the 1940s. Immediately after leaving this bar, we tempered the high-culture weekend with a trip to McDonald's, because everyone seemed to be in the mood for some greasy food.
Today is for catching up on some reading, for both homework and leisure. Adiós.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Fotos
 |
| Barcelona Weekend |
I apologize for the low resolution of some of these photos. The Internet refused to function for anything but the lowest setting on the last 3/4 of the album; it's remarkably finicky about that sort of thing lately.
A Long Long Weekend
Thursday was All Saint’s Day, and as Spain is a Catholic country we had the day off. Generally a Thursday off also means that Friday will be off, so I went with a couple other students in my program to Barcelona for the weekend.
Having learned our lesson regarding the unpleasantness of buses, Danny and I flew out Wednesday morning. We had to spend the night in the airport because Madrid’s metros shut down from 1 to 6 AM, and the flight was at 6. We camped out on the pews of the airport chapel.
Once in Barcelona, we caught a bus to the Gothic quarter, where our hostel was located. After checking out some of the shopping along the waterfront we got a stellar lunch in the Royal Plaza. Then we went back to the waterfront to peruse the aquarium, which is supposed to be one of the better ones in Europe, but didn’t quite live up to its hype (Danny felt Chicago’s was far superior, and I think I agree).
We walked around a bit through the central area to get a feel for the city. It had the same sort of feeling as Lisbon; it struck me as smaller than Madrid, although thankfully was far more navigable with a significantly less random street layout. We were pretty much spent after the uncomfortable night in the airport, but we met a trio of girls from Washington DC in the hostel, and the five of us eventually talked ourselves into hitting up a couple Irish bars that were decked out for Halloween.
Nevertheless, we got a decent amount of sleep before getting up the next day to meet Meghan and Melissa, the other half of our group for the weekend. They had taken the overnight bus after being unable to get plane tickets. We visited the cathedral in the Gothic quarter, which was impressive despite its façade being largely covered up by scaffolding in what I assume was a maintenance/restoration project.
Between the periods of wandering and eating at overpriced restaurants with rude waiting staff, we managed a hike up one of the city’s hills to a park designed by Gaudí. It was pretty neat, and we could see most of the city from its various observation patios. The city seemed pretty hazy at its clearest, and throughout the weekend I had the impression that the air pollution was substantially worse than Madrid’s, which is more than twice as large and situated in a more mountainous region. Even so, the view was nice.
After spending most of the afternoon in the park, we walked back down to the city and took a tour of an apartment building Gaudí designed, La Pedrera. It was pretty remarkable, but unfortunately few of my pictures turned out because the sun goes down so early here. The EU time zones strike me as pretty goofy, with sunset at about 6 PM after the clocks were set back last week for daylight savings. It seems to me that there’s plenty of room to scoot the clocks a bit for a little extra evening sunlight and economic activity, especially since they still don’t eat until 9 or 10 at night. It’s one of those little things about Europe that still seem somewhat odd to me.
We had a go at seeing Gaudí’s Temple of the Holy Family, the cathedral that’s been under construction for 125 years and is far from complete. Something of a wrench was thrown into the construction works when Gaudí was struck by a tram in 1926. The tram driver thought he was a hobo, and simply moved him from the tram’s path and continued on his route, leaving one of Spain’s most brilliant artists on the side of the road, where he died. I’ve heard that the final plans for the cathedral were in Gaudí’s head, and the work that’s carried on since then has been more or less a best guess sort of thing. Regardless, it’s pretty spectacular, and when it’s finished it’ll be a behemoth. Unfortunately they only turn on the exterior lights on certain days, so the journey was in vain (except for some excellent smoothies we got next door.) We came back the next night for photos. For some reason we didn’t try to go during the day, although I don’t see where we would have had time.
That night we went to a flamenco show before supper, and the next day we went to the chocolate museum. Apparently Barcelona was the city through which chocolate was introduced to Europe. Later that afternoon we visited another apartment building designed by Gaudí. Although not nearly as spectacular as La Pedrera, it was still pretty impressive. I didn’t realize until writing this presently what a prevalent theme Gaudí was for the weekend. At some point we also met up with Goshen College friends Lindsy Glick and Karla Maust and went out for drinks.
The bulk of Saturday afternoon was devoted to the Labyrinth Garden at the foot of the mountains on the west side of the city. Its serene and pensive atmosphere was very welcome after the exhausting pace of our tour of the city below. Also, the hedge maze in its center was pretty fun.
One of my favorite stops on the trip was to the City History Museum, which chronicled the two-thousand-year past of Barcelona. Unfortunately we were pressed for time and could not complete the entire experience, but what we saw was pretty incredible. Underneath the museum is a 43,000 square foot excavation of the original Roman settlement, with suspended walkways over the ruins of the buildings buried under Barcelona. I tried to sneak a few photos of the ruins, but, as flash photography was forbidden, few turned out.
Afterward we went to the beach and took a ride on the gondola over the harbor. This was definitely a letdown, as they cram as many people as possible into the little cars and I could see little more than the back of people’s heads throughout the journey. On the other side, on the top of a hill with cliffs on the Mediterranean Sea, was a stone fort that once defended the city from naval attacks. From here we watched the sunset and walked around the once-castle now-military museum (we didn’t have time to go in). Then we caught a light and music and fountain show, which was more loud than anything else. We had just enough time to snag a quick supper at Pita Hut before catching the last bus to the airport, where again we had to spend the night due to the early morning flight the next day. This day. I got back to Madrid early this morning and took an extensive nap.
So that was that. Barcelona was pretty nice, and there’s still plenty left to do if I ever get back, which isn’t unlikely since it’s only an hour away by air and will be 2½ hours by high-speed rail when the line opens later this year. I was surprised by how difficult communication was, since Barcelona, being the capital of the Catalonian province, speaks first Catalan and then Spanish. Sometimes the people there were a bit snooty about it. That more than anything makes me glad to be back in Madrid.
I’ll be holding off on travel now for a bit to conserve my dollars and their ever-dwindling buying power in the EU. Excepting a visit to Cordoba in two weeks on a trip with my program (which is paying for most of the weekend, hoorah). Immediately following that, I’m excited that Grandma and Grandpa Murto are visiting me in Madrid, something that I highly recommend of all of you.
Having learned our lesson regarding the unpleasantness of buses, Danny and I flew out Wednesday morning. We had to spend the night in the airport because Madrid’s metros shut down from 1 to 6 AM, and the flight was at 6. We camped out on the pews of the airport chapel.
Once in Barcelona, we caught a bus to the Gothic quarter, where our hostel was located. After checking out some of the shopping along the waterfront we got a stellar lunch in the Royal Plaza. Then we went back to the waterfront to peruse the aquarium, which is supposed to be one of the better ones in Europe, but didn’t quite live up to its hype (Danny felt Chicago’s was far superior, and I think I agree).
We walked around a bit through the central area to get a feel for the city. It had the same sort of feeling as Lisbon; it struck me as smaller than Madrid, although thankfully was far more navigable with a significantly less random street layout. We were pretty much spent after the uncomfortable night in the airport, but we met a trio of girls from Washington DC in the hostel, and the five of us eventually talked ourselves into hitting up a couple Irish bars that were decked out for Halloween.
Nevertheless, we got a decent amount of sleep before getting up the next day to meet Meghan and Melissa, the other half of our group for the weekend. They had taken the overnight bus after being unable to get plane tickets. We visited the cathedral in the Gothic quarter, which was impressive despite its façade being largely covered up by scaffolding in what I assume was a maintenance/restoration project.
Between the periods of wandering and eating at overpriced restaurants with rude waiting staff, we managed a hike up one of the city’s hills to a park designed by Gaudí. It was pretty neat, and we could see most of the city from its various observation patios. The city seemed pretty hazy at its clearest, and throughout the weekend I had the impression that the air pollution was substantially worse than Madrid’s, which is more than twice as large and situated in a more mountainous region. Even so, the view was nice.
After spending most of the afternoon in the park, we walked back down to the city and took a tour of an apartment building Gaudí designed, La Pedrera. It was pretty remarkable, but unfortunately few of my pictures turned out because the sun goes down so early here. The EU time zones strike me as pretty goofy, with sunset at about 6 PM after the clocks were set back last week for daylight savings. It seems to me that there’s plenty of room to scoot the clocks a bit for a little extra evening sunlight and economic activity, especially since they still don’t eat until 9 or 10 at night. It’s one of those little things about Europe that still seem somewhat odd to me.
We had a go at seeing Gaudí’s Temple of the Holy Family, the cathedral that’s been under construction for 125 years and is far from complete. Something of a wrench was thrown into the construction works when Gaudí was struck by a tram in 1926. The tram driver thought he was a hobo, and simply moved him from the tram’s path and continued on his route, leaving one of Spain’s most brilliant artists on the side of the road, where he died. I’ve heard that the final plans for the cathedral were in Gaudí’s head, and the work that’s carried on since then has been more or less a best guess sort of thing. Regardless, it’s pretty spectacular, and when it’s finished it’ll be a behemoth. Unfortunately they only turn on the exterior lights on certain days, so the journey was in vain (except for some excellent smoothies we got next door.) We came back the next night for photos. For some reason we didn’t try to go during the day, although I don’t see where we would have had time.
That night we went to a flamenco show before supper, and the next day we went to the chocolate museum. Apparently Barcelona was the city through which chocolate was introduced to Europe. Later that afternoon we visited another apartment building designed by Gaudí. Although not nearly as spectacular as La Pedrera, it was still pretty impressive. I didn’t realize until writing this presently what a prevalent theme Gaudí was for the weekend. At some point we also met up with Goshen College friends Lindsy Glick and Karla Maust and went out for drinks.
The bulk of Saturday afternoon was devoted to the Labyrinth Garden at the foot of the mountains on the west side of the city. Its serene and pensive atmosphere was very welcome after the exhausting pace of our tour of the city below. Also, the hedge maze in its center was pretty fun.
One of my favorite stops on the trip was to the City History Museum, which chronicled the two-thousand-year past of Barcelona. Unfortunately we were pressed for time and could not complete the entire experience, but what we saw was pretty incredible. Underneath the museum is a 43,000 square foot excavation of the original Roman settlement, with suspended walkways over the ruins of the buildings buried under Barcelona. I tried to sneak a few photos of the ruins, but, as flash photography was forbidden, few turned out.
Afterward we went to the beach and took a ride on the gondola over the harbor. This was definitely a letdown, as they cram as many people as possible into the little cars and I could see little more than the back of people’s heads throughout the journey. On the other side, on the top of a hill with cliffs on the Mediterranean Sea, was a stone fort that once defended the city from naval attacks. From here we watched the sunset and walked around the once-castle now-military museum (we didn’t have time to go in). Then we caught a light and music and fountain show, which was more loud than anything else. We had just enough time to snag a quick supper at Pita Hut before catching the last bus to the airport, where again we had to spend the night due to the early morning flight the next day. This day. I got back to Madrid early this morning and took an extensive nap.
So that was that. Barcelona was pretty nice, and there’s still plenty left to do if I ever get back, which isn’t unlikely since it’s only an hour away by air and will be 2½ hours by high-speed rail when the line opens later this year. I was surprised by how difficult communication was, since Barcelona, being the capital of the Catalonian province, speaks first Catalan and then Spanish. Sometimes the people there were a bit snooty about it. That more than anything makes me glad to be back in Madrid.
I’ll be holding off on travel now for a bit to conserve my dollars and their ever-dwindling buying power in the EU. Excepting a visit to Cordoba in two weeks on a trip with my program (which is paying for most of the weekend, hoorah). Immediately following that, I’m excited that Grandma and Grandpa Murto are visiting me in Madrid, something that I highly recommend of all of you.
Photos forthcoming.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
English AI
My latest adventure involves volunteering with the English Department here at the university. My responsibility is to co-lead an hour-long practical English class once a week with two other American students. We've got about thirty students who have to attend 70 percent of the sessions for the semester, during which everybody practices their English skills, and the semester culminates with final presentations over something or other.
Last Wednesday was the first class. It was a disaster. First of all, I overslept. I was about fifteen minutes late to the class I was supposed to teach. Fortunately, Spain doesn't exactly possess a culture of punctuality, and this didn't seem to bother anyone (I had a class a couple weeks ago where the professor was fifteen minutes late and didn't start class until half an hour late, and no one seemed to care). Much worse than my tardiness was our disorganization. We'd expected the class professor to give us AIs something to do. But she didn't. So we talked about ourselves for a few minutes and read a five minute Encyclopedia Brown-esque mystery. As inept and rambling as it felt, I would have been happy with how the class went if that had been all. However, for some reason my fellow AIs seem to be laboring under the delusion that we're teaching elementary school students rather than students in Spain's most prestigious university. The tone of their conversation was spectacularly unsuited for what we were supposed to do, which is stimulate conversation amongst already proficient English students, not explain what it means to say starving ("It means I'm huuunnngrry. HUNN GRRY.") Needless to say, it was embarrassing.
Fortunately, this morning went much more smoothly. We three AIs met last weekend to plan for today, so we had an idea of what we were doing. We split the class into groups and each of the AIs took a group, the idea being to increase the amount of students talking at any given time. My group talked about what we did the last weekend, how ridiculously early Americans eat lunch and dinner, US alcohol laws, and Al Gore's Nobel Prize. We spent a lot more time talking about drinking than climate change, which was what we were supposed to be talking about, so we had to extend discussion time. This wasn't an accident, and by doing this I significantly reduced the amount of time available for the others' planned Condescension Time. Maybe it was a little passive aggressive, but it was in the best interests of everyone involved, and it resulted in an extended and stimulating discussion. I feel like lot more people will participate if you treat them like adults.
So that's that. Next week I'm leaving it to the other two, as I'm getting up early to fly to Barcelona for the long weekend (no more buses!). Much like every other year, November 1st is All Saint's Day, and, Spain being a thoroughly Catholic country, we have a four day weekend. That reminds me, last weekend was also a four day weekend, albeit the surprise kind. On Monday and Tuesday I only have one class, and both days the professor didn't show up. The students waiting outside the classroom in the hall with me agree that the lessons were probably cancelled. It was somewhat irritating.
Okay, bye.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
My Apartment
Here are a couple photographs of where I live in Madrid.
This is my apartment building. I live on the first floor, back on on the courtyard. 
This is Calle de Galileo, the street in front of my building.
This is at the university. On clear days you can see the mountains from the school. Well, with this post I run out of my Internet allowance. I use a USB modem that connects to Vodafone's wireless 3G network. This way I get Internet access anywhere in Spain, but I only signed up for a one gigabyte plan (the next plan up costs almost 100 dollars a month... no thanks). Since I've reached my data quota, for the rest of the month my modem will only connect at 2x dial-up speed. As my connection was spotty to begin with, I suspect that this slower connection will prevent me from doing large uploads like photo albums. Fortunately I can still connect to the school's (relatively) high-speed network, but its hours are limiting. Now I don't know how I'll watch next week's episode of The Office. The next ten days might be trying.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Holiday Weekend
Friday was Columbus Day in Spain, so we had a long weekend. If I had stayed in Madrid I could have seen a military parade featuring the king and queen of Spain, complete with tanks and fighter jets, but instead I decided on a whim to buy a bus ticket to Lisbon. Only after I bought the ticket did I remember the inconvenient fact that in Portugal the people speak Portuguese, not Spanish. Fortunately, most of them also speak English (as it turns out, Spain is far, far behind the rest of the European Union in learning English; it’s one of the EU’s 23 official languages, and the commonest second language).
So after class on Thursday I hopped on a bus and traveled for just over eight hours to Portugal. From this I learned never to travel by bus, no matter how much more it costs to go by plane. Our bus drivers got lost and had to ask for directions, what should have been a six or seven hour drive took 8 hours to get there and 10 to get back, it was hot and icky, and I was extremely car sick, probably because the driver’s goal in life was to become a Disneyland teacup-ride operator and he felt he needed to get some practice in whenever he could. He tore up every roundabout we encountered.
Other than the bus, it was a pretty stellar weekend. The city is much smaller than Madrid, with about 600,000 citizens and 2 million in the metropolitan area. But it felt even smaller. There was no grid to speak of—the streets seemed to be laid out randomly in a spider web design, even more than Madrid’s, which are difficult enough to navigate themselves. Many were paved in cobblestones, and almost all the sidewalks were tiled. They were too narrow to allow much traffic.
Most of our time we spent visiting various old churches from the Romanesque period. We also visited a monastery and a ruined castle. Both of these were almost completely open to tourists, with few areas prohibited. We could climb to the top of the towers and along the walls and see the whole thing. It was neat.
We bought tickets for a double deck tour bus and went on a cursory tour of the city. It was a hop on, hop off deal, so we also used this as transportation to go to different places we wanted to look at.
On Saturday we took the train to a seaside town about half an hour from Lisbon and spent the day on the beach. We went to an open-air café on the beach and I got a fantastic swordfish steak. The water was absolutely freezing, and I had left my swimsuit in Madrid, so I read a book and enjoyed an Irish coffee while the others braved the water. The beach was very beautiful, and reminded me a lot of Hawk’s Cay in the Keys.
Saturday evening we returned to Lisbon and went to a club on the river. It was expensive and the music was awful, not nearly as cool as some of the clubs in Madrid, but we managed to enjoy ourselves anyway.
Then we woke up early on Sunday and caught the first bus back to Madrid. The rest of the day was spent in transit, and by the time we got back to the city I was wiped and went straight to bed.
I’m having a lot of trouble uploading pictures, but as soon as that’s resolved I’ve got a few to share with you.
So after class on Thursday I hopped on a bus and traveled for just over eight hours to Portugal. From this I learned never to travel by bus, no matter how much more it costs to go by plane. Our bus drivers got lost and had to ask for directions, what should have been a six or seven hour drive took 8 hours to get there and 10 to get back, it was hot and icky, and I was extremely car sick, probably because the driver’s goal in life was to become a Disneyland teacup-ride operator and he felt he needed to get some practice in whenever he could. He tore up every roundabout we encountered.
Other than the bus, it was a pretty stellar weekend. The city is much smaller than Madrid, with about 600,000 citizens and 2 million in the metropolitan area. But it felt even smaller. There was no grid to speak of—the streets seemed to be laid out randomly in a spider web design, even more than Madrid’s, which are difficult enough to navigate themselves. Many were paved in cobblestones, and almost all the sidewalks were tiled. They were too narrow to allow much traffic.
Most of our time we spent visiting various old churches from the Romanesque period. We also visited a monastery and a ruined castle. Both of these were almost completely open to tourists, with few areas prohibited. We could climb to the top of the towers and along the walls and see the whole thing. It was neat.
We bought tickets for a double deck tour bus and went on a cursory tour of the city. It was a hop on, hop off deal, so we also used this as transportation to go to different places we wanted to look at.
On Saturday we took the train to a seaside town about half an hour from Lisbon and spent the day on the beach. We went to an open-air café on the beach and I got a fantastic swordfish steak. The water was absolutely freezing, and I had left my swimsuit in Madrid, so I read a book and enjoyed an Irish coffee while the others braved the water. The beach was very beautiful, and reminded me a lot of Hawk’s Cay in the Keys.
Saturday evening we returned to Lisbon and went to a club on the river. It was expensive and the music was awful, not nearly as cool as some of the clubs in Madrid, but we managed to enjoy ourselves anyway.
Then we woke up early on Sunday and caught the first bus back to Madrid. The rest of the day was spent in transit, and by the time we got back to the city I was wiped and went straight to bed.
I’m having a lot of trouble uploading pictures, but as soon as that’s resolved I’ve got a few to share with you.
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Classes
The building which houses most of my classes.
We American students all got here a month before classes in the Universidad Complutense de Madrid actually began, and in that time we took an intensive course over Spanish history, politics, art, architecture, grammar, and composition. Four hours of class a day for a month, which equates to one course in Bloomington. It was very intense. It appears now that I passed, barely. Now our actual university courses for the rest of the semester are beginning.
I'm enrolled in five courses right now. They are: Spanish Linguistics, Latin American Literature, Religion and Society, Spanish Foreign Policy, and Novels in the United States since 1950. The last course is actually conducted in English, which is refreshing though not at all conducive to the goal of immersion. Most of these classes seem doable. I had to immediately drop Spanish History from 1492 to 1808, because, although the topic is very interesting to me, the professor was utterly incomprehensible. A couple of my fellow Americans felt obliged to drop it as well, for the same reason. I'm looking forward to Religion and Society, which also has a nearly incomprehensible instructor, but after our first lecture he asked the foreigners to meet with him after class. If I understood him correctly, and it's entirely likely that I did not as he speaks incredibly fast, he requested the three of us (an Italian, a Mexican, and me) to write an essay comparing the religiosity of our home cultures to that of Spain, in lieu of a final assignment. I gathered that it was as much an merciful exception to the requirements to which the Spanish students are held as it was a personal interest of the professor's. Although he could have been requesting the paper on top of the other requirements for all I know. I still have some work to do on my comprehension skills.
The other classes are more or less unremarkable. Most of the work is piled up into two weeks at the end of the semester, as our grades are entirely based on a test or two and a final paper, but it would probably be wise to keep up on outside readings. At the beginning of a class the professor generally provides a basic syllabus of things the course will study, as well as a recommended bibliography. It's the student's responsibility to track down whatever books might be helpful and supplemental to the lectures. Maybe one or two books are to be actually purchased (four in my American Novels course), but the rest are optional (as there's like twenty of them). A 35% in any given course here is transferred to Bloomington as a passing grade. I interpret this as an omen of the difficulty of the final exams more than a break, so I think I'll be gauging my studying effort accordingly.
K! Adios.
Monday, October 8, 2007
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)