Hello all!
Venice is lovely! Have got a great apartment right next to the Rialto Bridge, right about here http://maps.google.com/?ll=45.436636,12.337142&spn=0.001754,0.003616&t=h
Love you all, miss you all, have to go do homework now :(
xxoo
Joannie
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Sunday, March 26, 2006
South of France
The south of France is marvelous - have had a great time here!
Will post a full update soon, with all the tales of home-cured bacon, adventuring Staffies, and carnival.
Am off to Venice this afternoon - Sandra and I must endure over 16 hours on the train to do this - yikes. I can get home to Minnesota in less time than that.
Wish us luck!
Will post a full update soon, with all the tales of home-cured bacon, adventuring Staffies, and carnival.
Am off to Venice this afternoon - Sandra and I must endure over 16 hours on the train to do this - yikes. I can get home to Minnesota in less time than that.
Wish us luck!
Thursday, March 16, 2006
Barthelona
March 14, 2006
Barcelona
Well, Barcelona is growing on me. It’s a cool city, but at the end of the week I think I will be done with it when the week is over.
Today we walked down to the beachfront and walked along it for a few miles to see how the city changes as it meets the sea. Some areas are excellent, and some are not.
All in all the day was good – it went from drizzly to sunny and we ended the day with farting about in a playground (yes, I went arse over teakettle while there) and then some well deserved beer. Yum.
Once we got back to town (we were so far out from the city center that we took the Metro back) we found a restaurant of astounding cheapness and excellence. I had one of the better meals of my life – white beans and Catalan sausage. Yum! It was simple and subtle and rich and bold and I’m crying inside at the thought that I might never have it again. We might go back tomorrow night – but the restaurant is the oldest one in the city (from 17hmmhmphhmph) and doesn’t open until 9pm in the dodgy bit of town.
March 15, 2006
Barcelona
Today was an easier day, and we took our aching legs down to wander in the Barrio Gotic (the dodgy bit isn’t dodgy during the day) and have a look at the old cathedral and wander around a bit. Work work work. ;)
Then we went to the market – full of all sorts of things you don’t see in supermarkets. Heads. Carcasses. Fresh seafood. Live seafood. Ostrich eggs. Massive cheeses. Mucky vegetables.
After that delightful and diverting experience, we metroed it up to the end of town that is remarkable for only two things. One is a rather nice little urban park that we roamed around for a bit. The other is a building. An amusing building. A building of such stunning anthropomorphic suggestion that I can’t look at it without giggling, and Sandra is just about helpless. Please excuse the crudeness, but as you all know me very well, you’ll know that I could be much cruder. Imagine a suppository. Now, make a building that shape. The lack of subtletly is astonishing and reminds me to remind *you* to run all building designs by a seven year old boy for the giggle-check before building them.
March 16, 2006
Barcelona
Thursday
Again we had a comparatively easy day. We set off from the hotel of plastic – ah, I haven’t told you about the hotel yet. This hotel is outstanding in many ways, excellently situated on La Rambla, free beer and soda and water, free breakfast and snacky items, free internet, lots of plugs. However, it is filthy, the shower curtain requires macgyvering to prevent midshower molestations, the shower itself required some macgyvering (by yours truly, of course) to help it function normally, and we’re pretty sure they haven’t vacuumed in a couple of months. To top it all off, the room is pink. The chairs are lawn chairs with slipcovers. The drawers are the plastic slide out ones that most people keep in garages. It is a perplexing mix of all the things we’ve been craving, and all the things that we’ve been dreading.
However, accommodations aside, we set off across the city this morning to go to one of Gaudi’s masterpieces, Parc Guell. It’s set on a pretty high hill on the outskirts, so the views are excellent, and the rest of it was Gaudi at his wacky whimsical best. This has been my favorite thing about Barcelona (except the wifi in the hotel room) and gets a big thumbs up.
Unfortunately we had a small crisis of spare change when the time came to get on the city bus back into town, so we had to buy ice creams to break down our larger bills. Unavoidable, you see.
Back across the city to an apartment building by the eminent Mr. Gaudi – again, it was excellent, but we were famished by the time we finished up there. Back to the restaurant in the Barri Gotic that we had eaten at a couple of days ago, and we ate an excellent and early dinner. I had the exact same thing again – catalan sausage and white beans. Yum yum yum.
Then, back to the hotel room for errands etc. and planning for our trip tomorrow.
Barcelona
Well, Barcelona is growing on me. It’s a cool city, but at the end of the week I think I will be done with it when the week is over.
Today we walked down to the beachfront and walked along it for a few miles to see how the city changes as it meets the sea. Some areas are excellent, and some are not.
All in all the day was good – it went from drizzly to sunny and we ended the day with farting about in a playground (yes, I went arse over teakettle while there) and then some well deserved beer. Yum.
Once we got back to town (we were so far out from the city center that we took the Metro back) we found a restaurant of astounding cheapness and excellence. I had one of the better meals of my life – white beans and Catalan sausage. Yum! It was simple and subtle and rich and bold and I’m crying inside at the thought that I might never have it again. We might go back tomorrow night – but the restaurant is the oldest one in the city (from 17hmmhmphhmph) and doesn’t open until 9pm in the dodgy bit of town.
March 15, 2006
Barcelona
Today was an easier day, and we took our aching legs down to wander in the Barrio Gotic (the dodgy bit isn’t dodgy during the day) and have a look at the old cathedral and wander around a bit. Work work work. ;)
Then we went to the market – full of all sorts of things you don’t see in supermarkets. Heads. Carcasses. Fresh seafood. Live seafood. Ostrich eggs. Massive cheeses. Mucky vegetables.
After that delightful and diverting experience, we metroed it up to the end of town that is remarkable for only two things. One is a rather nice little urban park that we roamed around for a bit. The other is a building. An amusing building. A building of such stunning anthropomorphic suggestion that I can’t look at it without giggling, and Sandra is just about helpless. Please excuse the crudeness, but as you all know me very well, you’ll know that I could be much cruder. Imagine a suppository. Now, make a building that shape. The lack of subtletly is astonishing and reminds me to remind *you* to run all building designs by a seven year old boy for the giggle-check before building them.
March 16, 2006
Barcelona
Thursday
Again we had a comparatively easy day. We set off from the hotel of plastic – ah, I haven’t told you about the hotel yet. This hotel is outstanding in many ways, excellently situated on La Rambla, free beer and soda and water, free breakfast and snacky items, free internet, lots of plugs. However, it is filthy, the shower curtain requires macgyvering to prevent midshower molestations, the shower itself required some macgyvering (by yours truly, of course) to help it function normally, and we’re pretty sure they haven’t vacuumed in a couple of months. To top it all off, the room is pink. The chairs are lawn chairs with slipcovers. The drawers are the plastic slide out ones that most people keep in garages. It is a perplexing mix of all the things we’ve been craving, and all the things that we’ve been dreading.
However, accommodations aside, we set off across the city this morning to go to one of Gaudi’s masterpieces, Parc Guell. It’s set on a pretty high hill on the outskirts, so the views are excellent, and the rest of it was Gaudi at his wacky whimsical best. This has been my favorite thing about Barcelona (except the wifi in the hotel room) and gets a big thumbs up.
Unfortunately we had a small crisis of spare change when the time came to get on the city bus back into town, so we had to buy ice creams to break down our larger bills. Unavoidable, you see.
Back across the city to an apartment building by the eminent Mr. Gaudi – again, it was excellent, but we were famished by the time we finished up there. Back to the restaurant in the Barri Gotic that we had eaten at a couple of days ago, and we ate an excellent and early dinner. I had the exact same thing again – catalan sausage and white beans. Yum yum yum.
Then, back to the hotel room for errands etc. and planning for our trip tomorrow.
Monday, March 13, 2006
I learned it from a book.
March 6, 2006
Monday
Lisbon
Nothing too much to report today. Woke, and ate a suitably bland breakfast with the usual crew of suspects. We set off across the city in a volley of taxis, to find our way to the studio space they showed us on Saturday. First we had a lecture, then they changed the assignment on us a couple of times, reassigned the groups we’d arranged ourselves into (we didn’t have enough local students).
We spent the rest of the day brainstorming and pretending we were in school. Since they close the campus down at 8, we were able to get our butts home in time to go to the internet café to check email again.
A bit of snoring, and then…
March 7, 2006
Tuesday
Thrilling. Up. Bread. Taxi. Studio. Lecture. Lunch (mystery meat in the cafeteria again for a mere 2.3 Euro). Studio. Bus. Hotel. Restaurant (Pork with clams, Alantejana style). Hotel. Snoring, and then…
March 8, 2006
Lisbon
Wednesday
Same as yesterday. Substitute Indian food for Pork with Clams.
Ain’t travel thrilling?
Our final presentations for the charrette are tomorrow and we’re in good stead – we’re getting more sleep than some groups tonight.
Note: I’ve made a brand new knitter – Jen actually bought wool today. Mwahahaha… my evil plan is complete.
Off to snore a bit.
March 9, 2006
Lisbon
Thursday
Today is/was our last day in Lisbon. Went through the normal morning routine, and went into the studio to finish up our projects that we were to present in the afternoon. I’ll save you all the gory details. I was voted by my group to be the presenter, and I’m sure that the glass of Port I had just before the presentation helped.
While we were presenting, various members of the audience were getting loaded on Port, in preparation for our going away party. We finished the presentations shortly before the last bus came, and we ended up in flat out sprints to catch the damn thing so we could get back to the city center in time for our reservations. Luckily, I recognized the address of the place and we got there with a minimum of fuss. The restaurant was located up in the Bairro Alto, the twisty windy part of town directly adjacent to the hotel. It’s a bit dodgy up there, so I won’t go alone. When we were up there a couple of nights ago, one of our group got their bum grabbed, and we all were privy to a variety of lewd suggestions.
Tonight’s treat was the dude doing heroine. Charming.
So we wound our way to the dinner party and had a marvelous meal of steak frites. It was outstanding – some of the best beef I’ve ever had (in a restaurant, of course, Roman). Unfortunately, the wine was flowing rather freely, and I discovered part way through the evening that people were doing to me what I had been doing to them (refilling glasses when backs were turned, hehehe).
Consequently, we spilled back out onto the street in a raucous and drunk bunch when we were done with the meal. A rather bewildered looking fellow followed us out and was interested to know what in the heck we were doing there. Well, it turns out that he’s a German architect – so it was a bit of luck to run into him with about a dozen local architects and students, and 33 of us on the trip. He ended up being rather insistent that we join him in a jazz club and we deftly avoided it with the skill brought of many years of being female. Some people staggered down the hill to go to a nightclub, and the rest of us staggered up the hill in an unsteady line so that we could go check email.
Some of you, regrettably, know this.
I replied to a few emails, but the kicker is that this is an internet *bar*. You buy a beer, you get internet. You want more internet? Well, you buy more beer. Very simple. Doesn’t make typing so easy though.
So I plunked down enough for a round of large beers, and went to check my email. Various of our party couldn’t finish there beers, so not wanting to waste that valuable liquid, I had to help. Was only polite, you see.
We had a great time though – it was good to do some decompression. The trip is great fun, but it is stressful. Every single interaction that you take for granted – buying groceries, getting directions, reading a sign, suddenly takes about four times as much energy as it used to. Add in moderate malnutrition from all the bread and potatoes, throw in a disease or two, and all of a sudden this trip seems like a lot of work. Just as we were getting the hang of it, and the diseases started to fade somewhat, we got thrown into a studio situation where we had to work with people who were non-native English speakers, trying to solve an impossible problem on a short time frame, with no supplies.
So we eventually staggered on jelly legs back home for our final night’s rest at the eminent Hotel Borges.
March 10, 2006
Friday
Lisbon to Seville
Barfwatch
Woke early with a slight hangover and had a very welcome shower. Packed our bags (well, crammed them is more like it) and set off in a large and swaying bus for Spain.
There were a lot of hungover heads on the bus, and a lot of people were eyeing one suspiciously droopy fellow quite suspiciously. Barfwatch had begun. Names have been changed to protect the guilty, but *someone* had made themself a bit ill. All of us were popping up with our own personal urp-remedies, and we nearly had to pull the bus over at one point. Granted, the bus was very hot (about 22 degrees outside – you fahrenheiters can double that and add 30 to approximate the temperate) and it was very very sunny outside. However, all ended up fine in the end and an urp cascade down the bus was successfully avoided.
We drove southeast from Lisbon, back through the very beautiful Alentejo region (now officially my favorite part of Portugal) and headed into Spain.
I love Spain!
Granted, I’ve only been here for about 12 hours, but it is like a glammed up version of the pretty bits of west Texas. Cork oak savannahs, vineyards, orchards, haciendas, and medieval villages stretching away into the horizon. Absolutely charming.
We landed in Seville, threw our stuff into our hotel rooms, and ran hell-bent across the medieval core of the city (very pretty too, if only in passing) over to the cathedral. It was spectacular in a very normal way for cathedrals, and we did climb up to the top of the belltower for the astonishingly great view.
On our way back to the hotel Alcatraz (not really the name of the hotel, but it’s close. I cracked the joke once and now I can’t remember the real name of the hotel to save my life [EDIT - Alcozar]) we stopped for dinner and had some excellent sangria and gazpacho and lemon sorbet, but some rather mediocre paella. The paella that Sandra and I shared had only *two* clams in it, no saffron, and random chunks of organ meat (we identified liver and tripe). Y’all know how well I do with organ meat. Bleah. Actually, I must admit that the tripe bits weren’t bad. They were tender, and pleasantly tasteless. Do *not* take this as permission to serve me tripe. Sandra got majorly squicked out when I mentioned that I thought the “calamari” was maybe something else – and then she continued eating it pronouncing it “really not bad”.
Important note in the Sandra vs. Pastries battle: Yesterday was a bad day for the pastries, with multiple of their troops falling valiantly at the front lines. However, today had some surprising developments and no pastries were harmed in the line of duty.
March 11, 2006
Saturday
Seville (suh-veeyuh) to Toledo (toe-lay-doe)
Well, Spain just continues to get more and more awesome. Today we drove the five or so hours it takes to cross from Seville to Toledo.
We stopped in Cordoba, and it was instantly upgraded to my favorite city (Seville was my favorite until then). Now, my favorite is Toledo. It is amazing here – it’s really touristy, really charming, and has a good church.
However, I’m jumping ahead a bit. People behaved a bit better last night so there was no barfwatch on the bus. There was a moderate snotwatch – but we think those people have allergies and not anything communicable.
Just in case you were wondering, to get from Seville to Toledo, you have to drive through west Texas, a bit of Colorado, bit of Oklahoma, and just a touch of Nebraska. It was great – it was all of the landscapes of America that I love without the crushingly long distances. We also played a great game of “bull”. I have 1.5 points, Jen has 1 point, Mike has 2 points, Lynn has 1 point, and Pedro leads the pack with 3.5 points.
Here’s how to play: Drive across Spain, when you see a large bull silhouette (anatomically correct, I might add) yell “BULL”. You get half a point if you yell it at the same time as someone else. When Pedro told us about the game, a lot of us rolled our eyes with a “yeah sure – silly game”, that is… until the first bull popped up.
So we drove across the stunning center of Spain – past a Texas with olives and grapevines, with the occasional almond orchard and charming little village. I’m having a hard time to remember to say “gra thee arse” for thank you rather than “obrigada.” Ah well, at least I’m not saying “avocado” rather than “obrigada”.
Now, on to the best bit. Toledo. Probably the prettiest city I’ve ever ever been to. It’s a cross between a canyon, a medieval village, a tourist haven, and the renaissance festival. It’s completely charming, quite expensive, and perfectly done – Disneyland for grownups if I ever saw one.
My mother will never forgive me though. We went to the cathedral of Seville and I found my way into the El Greco room (El Greco is one of the greatest oil painters of all time). Mum, you have to come here. Next time you fly in to see Auntie Gilli, you two must either drive down here, or you should fly into Madrid, train it over here and see the damn thing. They’ve also got the El Greco museum here, but the good paintings (or so they say) are in the Cathedral. It’s not just El Greco though, they had Titian, Tintoretto, Raphael, and there was a Rubens rather crudely jammed in a corner. I was with a couple of friends, and one said that she didn’t quite see what the big deal was about the El Greco of Christ in the Red Dress Having a Bad Day (can’t quite remember the name of it). I soon set her straight - and admitted that despite the wonky hands, the other paintings were largely excellent too. I could have stayed there all night.
Afterwards, we wandered round and did some shopping in the excellent shops in the area (I bought a plate as a present and promptly broke the damn thing – grr) then had a nice meal. Again, however, I biffed my meal choice. We started with the local cheese (manchego, very good), and moved onto our entrees. I had the lamb ribs and I’m not quite sure that they were ribs, and not quite sure that they were lamb. It was perfectly tasteless meat. Bleah. The other people at the table (eating venison and veal) thought theirs was excellent, which gives me hope for Spain. For pudding we shared the local specialty – Almond soup. Yumyumyum. Very nice indeed.
So, have to say a big “thumbs up” for Toledo.
March 12, 2006
Sunday
Toledo to Barcelona
It’s a long way from Toledo to Barcelona. A very long way. We drove it today. In a large bus where we all desperately need to do laundry. Hm.
Luckily, it was an extraordinarily pretty drive – we drove through the very arid regions of Spain, and all I know is that I want to come back. It was like Big Bend with olive trees and vineyards. Spain has won my heart, and I have a deep and abiding desire to learn Spanish or Catalan right now. However, progress on that front is slow – I can ask/state (in Castilian) the following : Where is the bathroom? Do you have international telephone cards? Coffee please. Milky coffee. How long is the wait for a table? How long is it now? You said “two minutes” the last three times. Fine, we’re going somewhere else. How much is the bacon and cheese sandwich? Water please. Do you have the lemon water? Check please. No, I don’t want to go on a date with you (this one sounds surprisingly like “bugger off you twat”).
The bus ride was made surprisingly eventful by our own international man of mystery, the infamous Francois. Francois dragged out his little ipod stereo and proceeded to play a mix of songs off various Ipods on the bus (we had at least four in active circulation, but we suspect that we may have had as many of 18 on the bus). Since the little stereo didn’t have the juice to be quite loud enough, “volunteers” had to hold the microphone for the bus’ PA system up to one of the speakers. This made it
a: impossible to listen to anything other than the music whims of the Ipod owners
b: especially when you are holding the damn thing
c: even more so when you are completely non musical
I was victim one, and Sandra was victim two. Luckily, music breaks were demanded by the bus in general, so I got some nice books-on-tape time in, and even managed a bit of a nap after wedging myself in a somewhat elegant position using a variety of spare clothings and backpacks.
Later on, there was much bus dancing, and some alcohol may have been passed around. Wonder what the laws are here, James? Anything like Utah? ;)
So, party bus issues aside, we did visit a city right in the middle of the windplains of Spain. We wandered around a bit, and clumsily ordered a bit of lunch. Then we decided to go for a walk along the river which had reminded us quite profoundly of Minneapoils. The wind was astonishing in the river valley – it was actually kicking up spray from the whitecaps formed by the flood-stage waters raging around the bridge we were on. A bit alarming really, but the locals seemed to be out and about as usual, so it looks like this isn’t anything unusual for them.
At sundown we stopped by a cemetery about an hour outside of Barcelona that had been designed by a former colleague of the infamous and amusing Pedro. It was moderately cool, and interestingly situated in a little tuff canyon. Bit spooky at night, and since it was closed we had to break in. Marvelous.
March 13, 2006
Monday
Barcelona
I learned it from a book.
So we woke fairly early, had a surprisingly good breakfast (Alpen and coffee – but not mixed), then set off for the location where we were supposed to meet our professor, Kristine. She had told us to meet her at the Montjuic Olympic Plaza – site of the 19xx Olympics.
We decided to walk up there. A fine choice, I believe, it was beautiful walking and a very gentle way to climb a bloody tall hill. We got there a bit late since the location to meet Christine was a bit fuzzy. The major injury along the way wasn't too bad - I jauntily waved my hand directly into a prickly pear cactus. Grr. Still stings a bit.
After a brief lecture and discussion, we walked back down the hill (arrg) and visited the infamous Barcelona Pavilion – designed by the infamous Mies Van Der Rohe. Minnesotans – he’s the famous German architect whose name is immortalized in the town of Miesville, south of the Twin Cities.
The pavilion was cool – had some good rocks in it (travertine, marble, and serpentinite, to name a few).
Afterwards, we wandered off into the city to track down an excellent bit of lunch. Eight of us paid 9 euros each for a three course meal with two bottles of wine. Hellyeah, baby! I ended up having a macaroni gratin, pork chop, and orange slice brulee. This was a complete surprise to me as I had ordered with the patented point-and-hope method.
This was approximately where injury two was sustained - I stumbled on clear pavement and managed to jam my thumb in a way that thumbs don't like to be jammed. Still hurts, but initial estimates indicate that I will probably live, though cursing will probably be on the upswing for a few days.
Sandra and I then found the train station on the map and hiked up there to get our tickets to France for Spring break (Sandra is coming with me to stay at my Aunt’s house). We zigzagged across the city back to the hotel, shopping in dribs and drabs along the way.
Dinner was a simple affair – we ate some provisions that Lynn had procured at one of the excellent city markets – Manchego cheese, bread, strawberries, and some wine left over from our lunch at Meta dos Leitoes in Portugal.
Since they fixed the hotel internet access overnight, we headed back to the hotel rooms to do some long overdue catching up on blogging. Image uploads will have to wait until tomorrow as this took a bloody long time to write.
Monday
Lisbon
Nothing too much to report today. Woke, and ate a suitably bland breakfast with the usual crew of suspects. We set off across the city in a volley of taxis, to find our way to the studio space they showed us on Saturday. First we had a lecture, then they changed the assignment on us a couple of times, reassigned the groups we’d arranged ourselves into (we didn’t have enough local students).
We spent the rest of the day brainstorming and pretending we were in school. Since they close the campus down at 8, we were able to get our butts home in time to go to the internet café to check email again.
A bit of snoring, and then…
March 7, 2006
Tuesday
Thrilling. Up. Bread. Taxi. Studio. Lecture. Lunch (mystery meat in the cafeteria again for a mere 2.3 Euro). Studio. Bus. Hotel. Restaurant (Pork with clams, Alantejana style). Hotel. Snoring, and then…
March 8, 2006
Lisbon
Wednesday
Same as yesterday. Substitute Indian food for Pork with Clams.
Ain’t travel thrilling?
Our final presentations for the charrette are tomorrow and we’re in good stead – we’re getting more sleep than some groups tonight.
Note: I’ve made a brand new knitter – Jen actually bought wool today. Mwahahaha… my evil plan is complete.
Off to snore a bit.
March 9, 2006
Lisbon
Thursday
Today is/was our last day in Lisbon. Went through the normal morning routine, and went into the studio to finish up our projects that we were to present in the afternoon. I’ll save you all the gory details. I was voted by my group to be the presenter, and I’m sure that the glass of Port I had just before the presentation helped.
While we were presenting, various members of the audience were getting loaded on Port, in preparation for our going away party. We finished the presentations shortly before the last bus came, and we ended up in flat out sprints to catch the damn thing so we could get back to the city center in time for our reservations. Luckily, I recognized the address of the place and we got there with a minimum of fuss. The restaurant was located up in the Bairro Alto, the twisty windy part of town directly adjacent to the hotel. It’s a bit dodgy up there, so I won’t go alone. When we were up there a couple of nights ago, one of our group got their bum grabbed, and we all were privy to a variety of lewd suggestions.
Tonight’s treat was the dude doing heroine. Charming.
So we wound our way to the dinner party and had a marvelous meal of steak frites. It was outstanding – some of the best beef I’ve ever had (in a restaurant, of course, Roman). Unfortunately, the wine was flowing rather freely, and I discovered part way through the evening that people were doing to me what I had been doing to them (refilling glasses when backs were turned, hehehe).
Consequently, we spilled back out onto the street in a raucous and drunk bunch when we were done with the meal. A rather bewildered looking fellow followed us out and was interested to know what in the heck we were doing there. Well, it turns out that he’s a German architect – so it was a bit of luck to run into him with about a dozen local architects and students, and 33 of us on the trip. He ended up being rather insistent that we join him in a jazz club and we deftly avoided it with the skill brought of many years of being female. Some people staggered down the hill to go to a nightclub, and the rest of us staggered up the hill in an unsteady line so that we could go check email.
Some of you, regrettably, know this.
I replied to a few emails, but the kicker is that this is an internet *bar*. You buy a beer, you get internet. You want more internet? Well, you buy more beer. Very simple. Doesn’t make typing so easy though.
So I plunked down enough for a round of large beers, and went to check my email. Various of our party couldn’t finish there beers, so not wanting to waste that valuable liquid, I had to help. Was only polite, you see.
We had a great time though – it was good to do some decompression. The trip is great fun, but it is stressful. Every single interaction that you take for granted – buying groceries, getting directions, reading a sign, suddenly takes about four times as much energy as it used to. Add in moderate malnutrition from all the bread and potatoes, throw in a disease or two, and all of a sudden this trip seems like a lot of work. Just as we were getting the hang of it, and the diseases started to fade somewhat, we got thrown into a studio situation where we had to work with people who were non-native English speakers, trying to solve an impossible problem on a short time frame, with no supplies.
So we eventually staggered on jelly legs back home for our final night’s rest at the eminent Hotel Borges.
March 10, 2006
Friday
Lisbon to Seville
Barfwatch
Woke early with a slight hangover and had a very welcome shower. Packed our bags (well, crammed them is more like it) and set off in a large and swaying bus for Spain.
There were a lot of hungover heads on the bus, and a lot of people were eyeing one suspiciously droopy fellow quite suspiciously. Barfwatch had begun. Names have been changed to protect the guilty, but *someone* had made themself a bit ill. All of us were popping up with our own personal urp-remedies, and we nearly had to pull the bus over at one point. Granted, the bus was very hot (about 22 degrees outside – you fahrenheiters can double that and add 30 to approximate the temperate) and it was very very sunny outside. However, all ended up fine in the end and an urp cascade down the bus was successfully avoided.
We drove southeast from Lisbon, back through the very beautiful Alentejo region (now officially my favorite part of Portugal) and headed into Spain.
I love Spain!
Granted, I’ve only been here for about 12 hours, but it is like a glammed up version of the pretty bits of west Texas. Cork oak savannahs, vineyards, orchards, haciendas, and medieval villages stretching away into the horizon. Absolutely charming.
We landed in Seville, threw our stuff into our hotel rooms, and ran hell-bent across the medieval core of the city (very pretty too, if only in passing) over to the cathedral. It was spectacular in a very normal way for cathedrals, and we did climb up to the top of the belltower for the astonishingly great view.
On our way back to the hotel Alcatraz (not really the name of the hotel, but it’s close. I cracked the joke once and now I can’t remember the real name of the hotel to save my life [EDIT - Alcozar]) we stopped for dinner and had some excellent sangria and gazpacho and lemon sorbet, but some rather mediocre paella. The paella that Sandra and I shared had only *two* clams in it, no saffron, and random chunks of organ meat (we identified liver and tripe). Y’all know how well I do with organ meat. Bleah. Actually, I must admit that the tripe bits weren’t bad. They were tender, and pleasantly tasteless. Do *not* take this as permission to serve me tripe. Sandra got majorly squicked out when I mentioned that I thought the “calamari” was maybe something else – and then she continued eating it pronouncing it “really not bad”.
Important note in the Sandra vs. Pastries battle: Yesterday was a bad day for the pastries, with multiple of their troops falling valiantly at the front lines. However, today had some surprising developments and no pastries were harmed in the line of duty.
March 11, 2006
Saturday
Seville (suh-veeyuh) to Toledo (toe-lay-doe)
Well, Spain just continues to get more and more awesome. Today we drove the five or so hours it takes to cross from Seville to Toledo.
We stopped in Cordoba, and it was instantly upgraded to my favorite city (Seville was my favorite until then). Now, my favorite is Toledo. It is amazing here – it’s really touristy, really charming, and has a good church.
However, I’m jumping ahead a bit. People behaved a bit better last night so there was no barfwatch on the bus. There was a moderate snotwatch – but we think those people have allergies and not anything communicable.
Just in case you were wondering, to get from Seville to Toledo, you have to drive through west Texas, a bit of Colorado, bit of Oklahoma, and just a touch of Nebraska. It was great – it was all of the landscapes of America that I love without the crushingly long distances. We also played a great game of “bull”. I have 1.5 points, Jen has 1 point, Mike has 2 points, Lynn has 1 point, and Pedro leads the pack with 3.5 points.
Here’s how to play: Drive across Spain, when you see a large bull silhouette (anatomically correct, I might add) yell “BULL”. You get half a point if you yell it at the same time as someone else. When Pedro told us about the game, a lot of us rolled our eyes with a “yeah sure – silly game”, that is… until the first bull popped up.
So we drove across the stunning center of Spain – past a Texas with olives and grapevines, with the occasional almond orchard and charming little village. I’m having a hard time to remember to say “gra thee arse” for thank you rather than “obrigada.” Ah well, at least I’m not saying “avocado” rather than “obrigada”.
Now, on to the best bit. Toledo. Probably the prettiest city I’ve ever ever been to. It’s a cross between a canyon, a medieval village, a tourist haven, and the renaissance festival. It’s completely charming, quite expensive, and perfectly done – Disneyland for grownups if I ever saw one.
My mother will never forgive me though. We went to the cathedral of Seville and I found my way into the El Greco room (El Greco is one of the greatest oil painters of all time). Mum, you have to come here. Next time you fly in to see Auntie Gilli, you two must either drive down here, or you should fly into Madrid, train it over here and see the damn thing. They’ve also got the El Greco museum here, but the good paintings (or so they say) are in the Cathedral. It’s not just El Greco though, they had Titian, Tintoretto, Raphael, and there was a Rubens rather crudely jammed in a corner. I was with a couple of friends, and one said that she didn’t quite see what the big deal was about the El Greco of Christ in the Red Dress Having a Bad Day (can’t quite remember the name of it). I soon set her straight - and admitted that despite the wonky hands, the other paintings were largely excellent too. I could have stayed there all night.
Afterwards, we wandered round and did some shopping in the excellent shops in the area (I bought a plate as a present and promptly broke the damn thing – grr) then had a nice meal. Again, however, I biffed my meal choice. We started with the local cheese (manchego, very good), and moved onto our entrees. I had the lamb ribs and I’m not quite sure that they were ribs, and not quite sure that they were lamb. It was perfectly tasteless meat. Bleah. The other people at the table (eating venison and veal) thought theirs was excellent, which gives me hope for Spain. For pudding we shared the local specialty – Almond soup. Yumyumyum. Very nice indeed.
So, have to say a big “thumbs up” for Toledo.
March 12, 2006
Sunday
Toledo to Barcelona
It’s a long way from Toledo to Barcelona. A very long way. We drove it today. In a large bus where we all desperately need to do laundry. Hm.
Luckily, it was an extraordinarily pretty drive – we drove through the very arid regions of Spain, and all I know is that I want to come back. It was like Big Bend with olive trees and vineyards. Spain has won my heart, and I have a deep and abiding desire to learn Spanish or Catalan right now. However, progress on that front is slow – I can ask/state (in Castilian) the following : Where is the bathroom? Do you have international telephone cards? Coffee please. Milky coffee. How long is the wait for a table? How long is it now? You said “two minutes” the last three times. Fine, we’re going somewhere else. How much is the bacon and cheese sandwich? Water please. Do you have the lemon water? Check please. No, I don’t want to go on a date with you (this one sounds surprisingly like “bugger off you twat”).
The bus ride was made surprisingly eventful by our own international man of mystery, the infamous Francois. Francois dragged out his little ipod stereo and proceeded to play a mix of songs off various Ipods on the bus (we had at least four in active circulation, but we suspect that we may have had as many of 18 on the bus). Since the little stereo didn’t have the juice to be quite loud enough, “volunteers” had to hold the microphone for the bus’ PA system up to one of the speakers. This made it
a: impossible to listen to anything other than the music whims of the Ipod owners
b: especially when you are holding the damn thing
c: even more so when you are completely non musical
I was victim one, and Sandra was victim two. Luckily, music breaks were demanded by the bus in general, so I got some nice books-on-tape time in, and even managed a bit of a nap after wedging myself in a somewhat elegant position using a variety of spare clothings and backpacks.
Later on, there was much bus dancing, and some alcohol may have been passed around. Wonder what the laws are here, James? Anything like Utah? ;)
So, party bus issues aside, we did visit a city right in the middle of the windplains of Spain. We wandered around a bit, and clumsily ordered a bit of lunch. Then we decided to go for a walk along the river which had reminded us quite profoundly of Minneapoils. The wind was astonishing in the river valley – it was actually kicking up spray from the whitecaps formed by the flood-stage waters raging around the bridge we were on. A bit alarming really, but the locals seemed to be out and about as usual, so it looks like this isn’t anything unusual for them.
At sundown we stopped by a cemetery about an hour outside of Barcelona that had been designed by a former colleague of the infamous and amusing Pedro. It was moderately cool, and interestingly situated in a little tuff canyon. Bit spooky at night, and since it was closed we had to break in. Marvelous.
March 13, 2006
Monday
Barcelona
I learned it from a book.
So we woke fairly early, had a surprisingly good breakfast (Alpen and coffee – but not mixed), then set off for the location where we were supposed to meet our professor, Kristine. She had told us to meet her at the Montjuic Olympic Plaza – site of the 19xx Olympics.
We decided to walk up there. A fine choice, I believe, it was beautiful walking and a very gentle way to climb a bloody tall hill. We got there a bit late since the location to meet Christine was a bit fuzzy. The major injury along the way wasn't too bad - I jauntily waved my hand directly into a prickly pear cactus. Grr. Still stings a bit.
After a brief lecture and discussion, we walked back down the hill (arrg) and visited the infamous Barcelona Pavilion – designed by the infamous Mies Van Der Rohe. Minnesotans – he’s the famous German architect whose name is immortalized in the town of Miesville, south of the Twin Cities.
The pavilion was cool – had some good rocks in it (travertine, marble, and serpentinite, to name a few).
Afterwards, we wandered off into the city to track down an excellent bit of lunch. Eight of us paid 9 euros each for a three course meal with two bottles of wine. Hellyeah, baby! I ended up having a macaroni gratin, pork chop, and orange slice brulee. This was a complete surprise to me as I had ordered with the patented point-and-hope method.
This was approximately where injury two was sustained - I stumbled on clear pavement and managed to jam my thumb in a way that thumbs don't like to be jammed. Still hurts, but initial estimates indicate that I will probably live, though cursing will probably be on the upswing for a few days.
Sandra and I then found the train station on the map and hiked up there to get our tickets to France for Spring break (Sandra is coming with me to stay at my Aunt’s house). We zigzagged across the city back to the hotel, shopping in dribs and drabs along the way.
Dinner was a simple affair – we ate some provisions that Lynn had procured at one of the excellent city markets – Manchego cheese, bread, strawberries, and some wine left over from our lunch at Meta dos Leitoes in Portugal.
Since they fixed the hotel internet access overnight, we headed back to the hotel rooms to do some long overdue catching up on blogging. Image uploads will have to wait until tomorrow as this took a bloody long time to write.
Monday, March 06, 2006
The disease fades, spreads, and takes more victims.
March 2, 2003
Woke, breakfasted, and climbed on the bus as usual. The tour guide today was to be taking us over to the side of Lisbon not normally seen by tourists. We went on a tour of housing developments – public housing. Some of them had some quite good design principles, but had deteriorated depressingly over the years. They are still expensive to live in, and this is not a rich country.
We also toured a facility that is a school/rehab center for the disabled. It was interesting to see what you can get away with here in terms of building codes. There are a lot of two inch steps in the pavement that we all trip over with alarming regularity. This is even a problem at a place designed for people with some quite alarming physical disabilities. Astonishing.
After that we went to the site of the 1998 world expo, where there is an excellent mall and some interesting gardens. Walked around for about three hours, then took the bus home. Finally made it to the market and stocked up on such essentials as shelf-stable milk and alpen (no more breadfast for me – I feel ill if I even smell bread now), some oranges, a chocolate bar, lots of cheese, and of course – digestive biscuits. Tummy rumblies were consequently much reduced today, along with the other (much more amusing) flatulent side effects.
Had a great picnic in the hotel room (Sandra was briefly feeling better, but then lived up to her last name – Rolph – and tossed her cookies later.
I then went to a local internet bar with my friend Mike – a prince of a guy who promised to show me where this place is. It is a place that you must be taken, verbal descriptions just don’t work. “Go right out of the hotel and follow the tram line up into the largo, take the second right in the largo (is that including the one after the hotel? Hm, damn, can’t remember), take the first left (but you’ll get lost if you took the wrong right) and head up into the Bairro Alto past the drunks, all the polite gypsies, past the man peeing, up to the end of the road and it’s right there. Knock three times and ask for Antonio”. Well, not quite, but I’d never have got the critical first right turn correct without the excellent help of the charming Mike (whom we shall graciously forgive for briefly introducing us as the wrong person;)
Checked email, sent email, as a shockingly small number of you know. Where are the comments people? At least let me know if you’re reading this damn thing.
March 3, 2006
Lisbon
Today, we slept in, Yay! A free day at last! No stodgy staying back to do homework. Bah and humbug! No silly staying “home” and “relaxing”. “Errands”? What are those?
After a delightful and fibery breakfast of muesli and warm leite gordo (whole milk) served out of a glass and eaten with a pilfered plastic fork, Lynn, Jen and I collected the healing but wobbly Sandra and our most excellent Hannah and Molly to head back out to the expo. It’s a long way away, but shockingly easy to get to. Literally, walk fifty feet out of the hotel to the metro, take the blue line to the red line, and get off at the end. Voila, you’re there. We wanted to do a bit of shopping (bad luck – there are no size 42 shoes to be found. ) and check out the aquarium (largest in Europe, I hear).
So we went and Sandra wobbled around the aquarium and it was outstanding. There were otters and penguins and tuna and sharks and all manner of glowy jellyfish and anemones. My favorite was a dude that was really big, really ugly, and the largest bony fish in the world. Well, not the dude in particular, but his species. Or so they say. Google him “ocean sunfish”. Whoah. I called him “dude” because every time he came weirdly floating by we said “duuude! Check out that ugly fish!” He was awesome.
Then we went for lunch. We went to the “Mexican” place in the mall and everyone had a bit of an odd meal. For instance, Hannah’s fajitas had been steamed in soy sauce before being thrown on a sizzle plate. Weeeird. I ordered the enchiladas Rosita. They warned me that it was the spiciest thing on the menu no less than four times before they served it. They offered to bring me more water (I already had an untouched glass of water and a full glass of sangria). I declined. They loudly and verbally expressed their assertion that I would not be able to eat the meal, and offered to start making me something else straight away.
So I ate the enchiladas, much to the waitstaff’s astonishment. Well, they were spicy, but not insane. I’d classify them as a strong medium on the Joanne spiciness scale. Maybe a bit spicier than I would have preferred, but certainly quite tasty and enjoyable. Pleasant change after all the bland local food as of late. Plus, I had to clean my plate – matter of pride, you know. Once I finished, the waiter came over and took away my plate in astonishment and I was told that I was the first person *EVER* to come into the restaurant, order the enchiladas Rosita, and finish them. I don’t know if that’s just a line that he feeds to blonde tourists who he doesn’t think could eat spicy food, but he certainly seemed impressed. (note: the girls each had a bite of the enchiladas and said they were excellent, and like me they thought they were a ‘bit spicy but not too much’).
A bit more shopping, then we metroed it home, put some makeup on Hannah, then watched a chick flick on Sandra’s laptop. The movie was good, and Sandra didn’t barf again, so all is good in the world.
Sandra vs Pastries : Sandra continues to eat pastries, despite her assertion that she’s “gone off them”. The pastries must be congratulated for then excellent comeback? Comeuppance? Yesterday evening when a valiant duo of meat pastries made a last minute bid for freedom when Sandra got sick midevening. The fight is still strongly in Sandra’s favor, and we must commend her excellent performance today with the vanilla ice cream, banana cream filled thingy, and chocolate croissant.
March 4, 2006 (Saturday)
Lisbon
Today we woke up to rain. Lots and lots of rain. We got ready as usual (muesli out of a glass for moi) and then met up as a group at 11:30 in the lobby to go to the local university. The plan was to go out there, see the place, meet a couple of the professors, and get an idea of what the project is that we’ll be working on this week with local students.
Lynn and I made the mistake of wandering outside and got ourselves hustled rather unceremoniously into a taxi by Pedro (our local guide) with another couple of charming fellows on the trip. Pedro gave the driver some unintelligible instructions, and off we went – to places unknown.
About fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the university and waited for the rest of the class to show up. We then got ushered into an auditorium and after a brief introduction we were give the problem statement for the week. They’re building a new campus on some previously underused ground north of Belem (remember? We visited the Mosteiro do Jeronimos there on the first day and Sandra got addicted to the Pasteis de Belem). The problem is that they’ve build some buildings, and a big road, but there are no connections between the buildings – it’s a bit like Eden Prairie. Our problem statement is to try and fix that by designing a building on another disconnected part of the site. Garr. We’ll have to see how it pans out, but they seem to have forgotten that they have landscape architecture students working on this too – the thing that we are trained to do is to do things like campus master plans. Within the framework of a good master plan, it’s easy to insert a functioning building that can help solve connection issues. It’s like they’ve given us a car that they want to convert for offroad use. They’re asking us to make a really good wheel, when we really need to look at the whole car. We’ll see how it goes…
So we wandered up the hill to look at the site – it’s a lovely site with good views, right next to the road that has become the local drag racing strip. There’s an amphitheatre buried in the woods behind the site, and other amenities as well.
Having exhausted ourselves looking at the site, we set off to walk down to the bank of the river to have a late lunch, then catch the tram back to the hotel. It was a bit of a dodgy neighborhood (Hannah actually got harassed there as she came through on her own in the late afternoon – she’s fine, and nothing was stolen, but she was a bit shaken up) so we picked our way through in groups and landed at a variety of restaurants. Sandra and I had an excellent lunch (salmon for me, lamb chops for her) then went to meet some friends to share a tube of pasties de belem and a bica. The pasties are, if you recall, scrumptious little custard tarts that they stack up in a tube for sale. Yummy. Bica is just the local term for espresso.
By this time I had a crushing headache and was looking particularly round faced as I had consumed a massive quantity of liquids, but hadn’t really peed yet that day. More on this later.
Back at the hotel, Lynn told us all about the awesome place they had lunch, and suggested we go back for Fado (the local music – rather good actually) that evening as it was supposed to be excellent. Well I just didn’t have it in me, I was still pounding down liquids and resolutely not peeing, and my headache promised to split my head in two. Especially if I ended up drinking wine and eating yet again in another smoky establishment. After brief naps, Sandra and Lynn set off for the fado night, and Jen and I stayed in the hotel room reading and sleeping. Hannah went off clubbing with the people who think that is fun – some of them stayed out until 6 AM. I’m glad I got that out of my system years ago.
March 5, 2006
Sunday
We have the day off today, so we slept in and had breadfast as usual. Around noontime we went for a walk around thmy headache, and am still retaining fluids like a sinking submarine. We took pictures as notes for one e neighborhoods adjacent to the hotel (Chiado, Baixa, Bairro Alto). We went gently, as I still have of the assignments we have to do, and ended up at the excellent Café Nicola in the Rossio Placa for lunch/dinner. I had Sopa Alentejana, or Alentejo Soup (delicious – garlic cilantro soup, with an egg floating in it).
Back to the hotel room to drink more fluids as am still all bloaty and to do some homework.
Woke, breakfasted, and climbed on the bus as usual. The tour guide today was to be taking us over to the side of Lisbon not normally seen by tourists. We went on a tour of housing developments – public housing. Some of them had some quite good design principles, but had deteriorated depressingly over the years. They are still expensive to live in, and this is not a rich country.
We also toured a facility that is a school/rehab center for the disabled. It was interesting to see what you can get away with here in terms of building codes. There are a lot of two inch steps in the pavement that we all trip over with alarming regularity. This is even a problem at a place designed for people with some quite alarming physical disabilities. Astonishing.
After that we went to the site of the 1998 world expo, where there is an excellent mall and some interesting gardens. Walked around for about three hours, then took the bus home. Finally made it to the market and stocked up on such essentials as shelf-stable milk and alpen (no more breadfast for me – I feel ill if I even smell bread now), some oranges, a chocolate bar, lots of cheese, and of course – digestive biscuits. Tummy rumblies were consequently much reduced today, along with the other (much more amusing) flatulent side effects.
Had a great picnic in the hotel room (Sandra was briefly feeling better, but then lived up to her last name – Rolph – and tossed her cookies later.
I then went to a local internet bar with my friend Mike – a prince of a guy who promised to show me where this place is. It is a place that you must be taken, verbal descriptions just don’t work. “Go right out of the hotel and follow the tram line up into the largo, take the second right in the largo (is that including the one after the hotel? Hm, damn, can’t remember), take the first left (but you’ll get lost if you took the wrong right) and head up into the Bairro Alto past the drunks, all the polite gypsies, past the man peeing, up to the end of the road and it’s right there. Knock three times and ask for Antonio”. Well, not quite, but I’d never have got the critical first right turn correct without the excellent help of the charming Mike (whom we shall graciously forgive for briefly introducing us as the wrong person;)
Checked email, sent email, as a shockingly small number of you know. Where are the comments people? At least let me know if you’re reading this damn thing.
March 3, 2006
Lisbon
Today, we slept in, Yay! A free day at last! No stodgy staying back to do homework. Bah and humbug! No silly staying “home” and “relaxing”. “Errands”? What are those?
After a delightful and fibery breakfast of muesli and warm leite gordo (whole milk) served out of a glass and eaten with a pilfered plastic fork, Lynn, Jen and I collected the healing but wobbly Sandra and our most excellent Hannah and Molly to head back out to the expo. It’s a long way away, but shockingly easy to get to. Literally, walk fifty feet out of the hotel to the metro, take the blue line to the red line, and get off at the end. Voila, you’re there. We wanted to do a bit of shopping (bad luck – there are no size 42 shoes to be found. ) and check out the aquarium (largest in Europe, I hear).
So we went and Sandra wobbled around the aquarium and it was outstanding. There were otters and penguins and tuna and sharks and all manner of glowy jellyfish and anemones. My favorite was a dude that was really big, really ugly, and the largest bony fish in the world. Well, not the dude in particular, but his species. Or so they say. Google him “ocean sunfish”. Whoah. I called him “dude” because every time he came weirdly floating by we said “duuude! Check out that ugly fish!” He was awesome.
Then we went for lunch. We went to the “Mexican” place in the mall and everyone had a bit of an odd meal. For instance, Hannah’s fajitas had been steamed in soy sauce before being thrown on a sizzle plate. Weeeird. I ordered the enchiladas Rosita. They warned me that it was the spiciest thing on the menu no less than four times before they served it. They offered to bring me more water (I already had an untouched glass of water and a full glass of sangria). I declined. They loudly and verbally expressed their assertion that I would not be able to eat the meal, and offered to start making me something else straight away.
So I ate the enchiladas, much to the waitstaff’s astonishment. Well, they were spicy, but not insane. I’d classify them as a strong medium on the Joanne spiciness scale. Maybe a bit spicier than I would have preferred, but certainly quite tasty and enjoyable. Pleasant change after all the bland local food as of late. Plus, I had to clean my plate – matter of pride, you know. Once I finished, the waiter came over and took away my plate in astonishment and I was told that I was the first person *EVER* to come into the restaurant, order the enchiladas Rosita, and finish them. I don’t know if that’s just a line that he feeds to blonde tourists who he doesn’t think could eat spicy food, but he certainly seemed impressed. (note: the girls each had a bite of the enchiladas and said they were excellent, and like me they thought they were a ‘bit spicy but not too much’).
A bit more shopping, then we metroed it home, put some makeup on Hannah, then watched a chick flick on Sandra’s laptop. The movie was good, and Sandra didn’t barf again, so all is good in the world.
Sandra vs Pastries : Sandra continues to eat pastries, despite her assertion that she’s “gone off them”. The pastries must be congratulated for then excellent comeback? Comeuppance? Yesterday evening when a valiant duo of meat pastries made a last minute bid for freedom when Sandra got sick midevening. The fight is still strongly in Sandra’s favor, and we must commend her excellent performance today with the vanilla ice cream, banana cream filled thingy, and chocolate croissant.
March 4, 2006 (Saturday)
Lisbon
Today we woke up to rain. Lots and lots of rain. We got ready as usual (muesli out of a glass for moi) and then met up as a group at 11:30 in the lobby to go to the local university. The plan was to go out there, see the place, meet a couple of the professors, and get an idea of what the project is that we’ll be working on this week with local students.
Lynn and I made the mistake of wandering outside and got ourselves hustled rather unceremoniously into a taxi by Pedro (our local guide) with another couple of charming fellows on the trip. Pedro gave the driver some unintelligible instructions, and off we went – to places unknown.
About fifteen minutes later, we arrived at the university and waited for the rest of the class to show up. We then got ushered into an auditorium and after a brief introduction we were give the problem statement for the week. They’re building a new campus on some previously underused ground north of Belem (remember? We visited the Mosteiro do Jeronimos there on the first day and Sandra got addicted to the Pasteis de Belem). The problem is that they’ve build some buildings, and a big road, but there are no connections between the buildings – it’s a bit like Eden Prairie. Our problem statement is to try and fix that by designing a building on another disconnected part of the site. Garr. We’ll have to see how it pans out, but they seem to have forgotten that they have landscape architecture students working on this too – the thing that we are trained to do is to do things like campus master plans. Within the framework of a good master plan, it’s easy to insert a functioning building that can help solve connection issues. It’s like they’ve given us a car that they want to convert for offroad use. They’re asking us to make a really good wheel, when we really need to look at the whole car. We’ll see how it goes…
So we wandered up the hill to look at the site – it’s a lovely site with good views, right next to the road that has become the local drag racing strip. There’s an amphitheatre buried in the woods behind the site, and other amenities as well.
Having exhausted ourselves looking at the site, we set off to walk down to the bank of the river to have a late lunch, then catch the tram back to the hotel. It was a bit of a dodgy neighborhood (Hannah actually got harassed there as she came through on her own in the late afternoon – she’s fine, and nothing was stolen, but she was a bit shaken up) so we picked our way through in groups and landed at a variety of restaurants. Sandra and I had an excellent lunch (salmon for me, lamb chops for her) then went to meet some friends to share a tube of pasties de belem and a bica. The pasties are, if you recall, scrumptious little custard tarts that they stack up in a tube for sale. Yummy. Bica is just the local term for espresso.
By this time I had a crushing headache and was looking particularly round faced as I had consumed a massive quantity of liquids, but hadn’t really peed yet that day. More on this later.
Back at the hotel, Lynn told us all about the awesome place they had lunch, and suggested we go back for Fado (the local music – rather good actually) that evening as it was supposed to be excellent. Well I just didn’t have it in me, I was still pounding down liquids and resolutely not peeing, and my headache promised to split my head in two. Especially if I ended up drinking wine and eating yet again in another smoky establishment. After brief naps, Sandra and Lynn set off for the fado night, and Jen and I stayed in the hotel room reading and sleeping. Hannah went off clubbing with the people who think that is fun – some of them stayed out until 6 AM. I’m glad I got that out of my system years ago.
March 5, 2006
Sunday
We have the day off today, so we slept in and had breadfast as usual. Around noontime we went for a walk around thmy headache, and am still retaining fluids like a sinking submarine. We took pictures as notes for one e neighborhoods adjacent to the hotel (Chiado, Baixa, Bairro Alto). We went gently, as I still have of the assignments we have to do, and ended up at the excellent Café Nicola in the Rossio Placa for lunch/dinner. I had Sopa Alentejana, or Alentejo Soup (delicious – garlic cilantro soup, with an egg floating in it).
Back to the hotel room to drink more fluids as am still all bloaty and to do some homework.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
The pastry thing gets a bit out of hand
First, link to Mike´s blog: http://mmaegen.blogspot.com/
February 23, 2006
Coimbra
Well, the diseased one woke early today to have an unsatisfying breadfast, then we all climbed in the bus for the long haul up north for our tour of Northern Portugal. Lynn and I sat together, as we were quite obviously infected with the disease, though there are pockets of infection elsewhere in the group and we are by no means the only diseased ones.
The trip was fairly uneventful – we stopped along the way at two monasteries and a convent to view a grand selection of 10 cloisters (the less architecturally of you can say ‘courtyard’).
The cloisters were all lovely, and interesting, but we were getting a bit slap happy towards the end. I was walking around making helpful comments when looking at people’s notebooks “you missed a cloister” and “hm, you look a bit cloisterphobic to me” seemed to be the comments that people found the most amusing – that is to say, I didn’t get chased out of the convent cackling wildly. Other people started displaying bizarre symptoms of cloisterphobia – Sandra and Francois had an impromptu yet lively skipping race, this random French guy near us started singing down a well, some people in the group made quite a show out of popping out of hidden tunnels and semi-bricked in windows, and all and sundry made wild predictions about how many cloisters we had left to visit “I heard we missed three of them” and “I thought we’d already been to this one” (yes, we had).
So I wheezed, sneezed, and snuffled my way all the way around this most diverting of entertainments, then we found ourselves at a generic but comfortable hotel in Coimbra. We’re off for a walking tour of the city tomorrow, so I’d best get myself to bed to hopefully rid myself of the disease.
Note to self – need to buy vitamins. A diet of Nutella and Digestive’s does not promote good health.
February 24, 2006
The disease continues.
We packed up early, and after an unremarkable breakfast that was again based on bread *urggg* however, with excellent coffee, we set off an put all of our stuff on the bus. Our fate was not to climb on the bus (and perhaps continue sleeping) but to take our collective diseased selves climbing up the hill to the old university.
Note: By collective diseased selves, I mean that out of 32 people, we have five colds, one allergy attack, and three cases of digestive discomfort. We’re all a little ragged around the edges since the MLA students haven’t had a day off yet. We also have homework for other classes to do, but haven’t had time. Arrrg.
They say that Coimbra makes strong thighs, and they weren’t kidding. We’ve done some impressive hill climbing while we’ve been over here (the climb to Sao Jorge in Lisbon sticks particularly in my mind), but this is the first one I’ve had trouble with. Hard to climb with a nose that needs blowing every minute.
Well, we emerged chilled and sweaty from the tangle of streets up into the sunnier and warmer plaza adjacent to the old University. We took a left turn to go back down the hill a bit to have a look at the botanical garden.
It was gorgeous! We had a whirlwind tour of the formal gardens, test plots, and arboretum. We MLA students were not keen on going to the university after this so after a bit of carefully orchestrated negotiations (we didn’t quite resort to pouty lips and misty eyes) we agreed to be locked into the arboretum for three hours. Whee! The architecture students were jealous, and I don’t blame them. We romped, we frolicked, we ran up hills with glee with the sheer delight of being free in the woods after the density and peoplyness of Portuguese cities. We took delight in taking silly photos of Bret , we fenced with four foot long spiny pinecones. All of a sudden, my cold felt much better, and the weather warmed up.
After we romped around the garden with giddiness and freedom, we settled down to do some sketching, so that we could have tangible evidence of work and possibly secure these freedoms for ourselves again.
My favorite part of the arboretum was the bamboo grove – it was groovy!
Hot, thirsty, and giddy, we snuck ourselves out of the arboretum in twos and threes to meet the bus to be taken to lunch to Meta des Leitoes (I think).
Lunch was a splendid affair that consisted of the following:
Bread (urrrrg)
Homemade Potato Chips
Salad with lettuce and onions
Roast Suckling Pig (yum!)
Local white fizzy whine that is some of the best wine of any sort I’ve ever had
Weird dessert of “sugar and eggs” and “sugar, cheese, and eggs” that looked sort of like an orange pecan pie without pecans. It was very very weird, too sweet, and I can’t say I liked it very much.
Back on the bus, where singalongs and drunken karaoke helped us while away the time to our next destination, the University at Aveiro. It’s a new university, just recently built, and it’s pretty cool. I let Snoopy out for a run and took his picture at a famous water tower.
Back to the buses (it is now 6:15 PM) and on to Porto. Pity I don’t like Port much. *sigh*. We stopped at an overlook and climbed up another large hill *puff* *puff* to have a look at the city of Porto (north side of the river) and the city of Gaia (south side of the river, where we are staying). Pretty view at night, took some pictures.
Then, back to the hotel, and sleep and sneezing.
February 25, 2006
Porto
The disease continues. It’s bad enough that Lynn stayed home for the day. I didn’t think that I felt *that* bad, so I went on the tours. Ugh.
First stop was Casa Da Musica – a funhouse of irregular rooms, sloping floors, and perception manipulation. Do *not* go here if you have a cold – my inner ear thought I was on a rollercoaster. The undulating travertine plaza was pretty cool though.
Afterwards, we drove up the coast to go to a teahouse designed by a famous guy. Sandra frogmarched me in there and made me drink a café con leite (café au lait) while she sketched. I sat there blowing my nose as elegantly as possible. It was a neat location – built right on the edge of a rocky beach, with excellent views of the Atlantic. It made Snoopy wistful for home.
Then, we walked a mile or so down the coast to a spot where the same famous dude had converted some tidepools to swimming pools. Interesting solution to the problem of people swimming on a rocky beach, but a little moot since there was an excellent sand beach 100 meters further down the coast.
We stopped for lunch in a “Mexican” restaurant. Some of us ordered the “burrito” and really got an unseasoned chimichanga. Arroz were actually served as refritos, and poor Hannah had the worst of it. She ordered “ensalata” or salad, was charged for an “enchilada” but was served a fried taco. All in all, the food wasn’t bad, and we were soon on the buses to head back into town.
We got back to Porto and went to an Architecture school designed by the same famous dude. The architecture itself was not that interesting to me, but there was a neat mechanism for opening windows and doors. I took pictures for you James. There was also a lovely 19th century garden.
Afterwards, we went to Serralves – a beautifully landscaped Museum. Sandra again frogmarched me upstairs to the café for a refreshing coffee. I was a sight – a little sunburned, sweaty with disease, snuffling, mad hair, bags under eyes, and a general lack of posture. The waiter was a gorgeous piece of Portuguese man, and Sandra even blushed when she saw him. I myself was a bit oblivious until he winked very obviously at me when I asked for the bill. I got two more winks or goo-goo eyes as we were leaving. I guess they like ‘em puffy and sweaty over here! To be fair, we were the only blondes in the vicinity. Sandra swears that I got “the look” from no less than three security guards on the way out. Hmmm…
So we went for a walk around the semi-excellent gardens, then back to the hotel for an omelette and early bedtime.
February 26, 2006
Sunday
Porto
Sandra’s Pastry Fetish Gets Out of Hand
Today was a long day, again. Set off early in the morning to drive out to the small town of Marco De Canavesez. I was still feeling like something the cat dragged in, but since I’d done the research for today, I really wanted to see the sites.
We drove up through the lurrvly vineyards and orange groves, past the terraced hillsides and long misty mountain views until we hit the little city of Marco. The church is a very modern catholic church, designed by a very very famous Portuguese architect. This guy has designed most of the modern stuff we’ve seen. The church was moderately cool, in a spectacular setting, and just about to be populated by the local populace for mass – so we got kicked out rather unceremoniously by a grumpy old dude.
Back to the bus and we set off for the town of Braga. Braga is very devout, and is considered to be the ecclesiastical center of Portugal – the Rome, as it were. We wandered around looking longingly in the shops that were not open. Prices here are very good, and the quality is quite reasonable for clothing, etc. However, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m just not a shopper. The only stuff here that I like costs the same as it does in the US, so I’m not inclined to buy something just for the honor of humping it across Europe as some sort of bizarre souvenir. Well, that is unless I find the perfect shoes – but I’m sure you understand. I’m sure Roman is doing backflips right now out of joy that I’m not making this trip much more expensive than it has to be. Bad news honey – I am going to have to buy some new shirts at some point – the ones I have are going raggy quickly and my pants are too big.
Anyway, I’m jumping ahead a bit in the story. Let’s backtrack a bit to our arrival in Braga. Our impressive bus driver (seriously, he’s so good that we’ve applauded him on multiple occasions – the first was a three point turn of a full sized bus on a narrow rural road t-intersection and deep ditches at the sides of the roads) drove us to the cultural market first. This was designed by a dude of moderate famousness, fell into massive disrepair, then was partially remodeled to a state of post-apocalyptic anti-chic. Feh. Nasty loo too. Just one sheet of paper tucked in there to make it look like there was a full roll.
On the way back to the bus, I ducked into a café behind Francois to get a Frize Limao – the best fizzy water I’ve ever had. Francois got some kind of luscious pastry, and we headed to the bus. As he climbed on the bus, there was some commotion that took some time to clear. The aftermath revealed that he had cruelly taunted Sandra with his pastry, and Sandra –in a manner not unlike that of a shark- dove in and attacked. She took away a huge bite of the pastry and much to the bus’ horror, left behind a long goobery stringer of drool as she snapped back from the attack. Francois ate the rest of the pastry anyway, and we’ve all been guarding our food ever since.
This pastry thing has really gotten out of hand.
Fast forward by half an hour and Sandra, Lynn, and I are walking through the quietest city we’ve ever seen. Duh, everyone’s at church. We found a coffeeshop and Lynn and I got meringues and caffe con leite (for the record, I’m averaging a couple of pastries a week). Sandra got some sort of fruit napoleon sort of thing with a bica (espresso).
We then decide we couldn’t do the rest of the day on pastries, so we went off in search of some lunch. We ended up at one of the few places that was open and got a burger. Or rather, I got a burger. Sandra got a burger with a fried egg in it.
Back to the bus, and we set off to look at a fancy hotel up in the hills. It was astoundingly gorgeous (Roman, we have to go stay there), and we passed a lovely couple of hours being pests and flitting around with cameras.
Back to the bus and we set off for the chapel of Jesus’ bum on the mountain. Um, not exactly… really it was called Bom Jesus do Monte. It’s a big staircase on a mountain, and since I was feeling pretty rough again by this point, I punted and took the bus to the top. We took many pretty pictures, romped a bit, got frightened by a ghost* then went back to Porto for our final night (no dinner again – just Digestive biscuits then bed. Everyone’s addicted to Digestives now!). Us four girls (Sandra, Lynn, Hannah, and I) tucked into bed, watched a movie called Chocolat, ate digestives, and drank three bottles of champagne.
*Sandra and I were walking down one of the many staircases at Bom Jesus and I felt a firm shove behind my knees, as I turned around expecting to see a classmate fooling with us I saw nothing, except Sandra turning around too. She had also felt the knee shove.
February 29, 2006
Porto to Viseu
Still diseased, but much less than I had been. Went for an uninspiring walk around Porto while we killed time waiting for the bus. The best part of this was the awesome pair of 35 euro sunglasses I scored.
Brief stop by a gungy and smoky internet café, and we were back on the buses to head to Viseu for the night. The drive was very pretty – mountains, snow capped peaks, oranges, and vines.
At one point, desperate for entertainment, someone let Francois get ahold of the microphone for the PA system on the bus. He went around and gathered questions and interviewed our professor in the style of James Lipton. It was hilarious all round but the most outstanding moment was when we asked the professor “Boxers or briefs?” and he replied “I think Olive Oil is best” Hm, I’ll let your imagination fill in the gaps on that one.
Our hotel in Viseu is charming in the extreme and we wandered off in a roving pack of students in search of a meal. Ended up in a 10 seat restaurant, up a back stairway, in an alley. After the owner kicked out a group of his friends so we could sit down, we ordered an assortment of grilled meats (we is Joanne, Sandra, Lynn, Meredith, Samantha, and Matt), random vegetables, and excellent chips. The wine, however, was awful in the extreme.
We declined all offers to go to the largest nightclub in Portugal due to my healing disease, and Sandras impeding one, so we went back to the hotel and swapped fart stories into the wee small hours.
Note of point, Sandra had no pastries yesterday. She may be hoarding them, must check luggage.
February 28, 2006
Tuesday
Woke in Viseu, went to bed in Lisbon
We slept in a bit, until about 8:00 AM. I showered, then woke my roommates. Much to my surprise, Hannah popped right awake. Hannah, having discovered her inner party animal, had been out until 5:15 in the morning. That’s my girl.
So, we went for our breakfast (guess what? It was bread! Oh yay, my favorite. Yum yum yum.) then went next door to the internet.
No, I’m serious. The internet. There was a sign and everything. Downstairs was pinball, upstairs was an awesome LAN party setup. Checked email and comments, was sad to have received none,
After this, off for a walk around town – it was a very attractive town, full of big rocks that they just built stuff into and around. We stopped for coffees frequently, of course, especially since the disease has not yet disappeared.
We then toured a cool museum – worth a visit if you’re ever in Viseu (just across from the Se), then back down to the buses to go home.
A couple of things to note here:
Portugal is a very Catholic country.
February 28 is a religious holiday in Portugal, being Mardi Gras and all (they call it Carnavale).
Shops aren’t open on religious holidays.
I desperately needed to buy feminine supplies.
March 1, 2006
Lisbon
Up early, and confirmed that Sandra now has the disease. When you tell people that other people have the disease, you now have to specify. Sotto voce “intestinal?” We’ve got people dropping like flies – apart from hangovers and other self inflicted woes, there’s an intestinal bug (amusing poofles, screaming runs, the whole bit) and the plague/cold/flu bug. I got the plague/cold/flu one var.Joanne.1 (sneezing, runny nose, fatigue transitioning into fatigue/sore throat/cough). Var.Lynn.1 is sneezing, runny nose, fatigue transitioning into fatigue/cough). Var.Sandra.1 is proving to be the worst so far, with symptoms of the intestinal bug surfacing also. I’m jumping ahead though.
Sandra decided that she wanted McDonald’s for breakfast – we know that there is one nearby, she’s sick, so Jen and I indulged her. For me also it would be a welcome change – I hate eating this much bread, I can feel it sucking the health and wellness right out of me. So, we took Sandra and her disease over to the Rossio Placa only to discover that this McDonald’s in Portugal doesn’t serve breakfast. Oh bugger.
Since the previous day had been a holiday, and I needed to score some feminine supplies, we decided to stop by the market on our way back to the hotel to catch the bus at 9. Well, the market doesn’t even open until 9. Oh bugger.
Back to the hotel, breadackfest, and Sandra decided to stay home for the day and be sick in private. I begged some interim feminine supplies off a very very very very very good friend (thanks Lynn!), and we set off for a very long day.
First stop was the house of the Marquis do Fronteira or similar. Neat stately home – used to be the summer palace of the dude, but became the main residence when their home in Lisbon fell down during the earthquake of 1755. Bummer, dude. Least you had an offsite backup though. Got a tour from an Englishman, then back on the buses to the next stop.
Next stop is the palace of Queluz. Queluz is what happens when the King of Portugal decides to build a minor Versailles. Hm – I don’t think I buy it. The details were all nice and all (maintenance issues aside) but on a more philosophical scale, Versailles doesn’t work unless it *is* Versailles. This is *not* Versailles.
Next stop, back to Sintra (remember, we were there last week to visit Montserrate) for a bit of lunch (Italian this time*). Then we took the bus up to the palace that the King had built at the top of the highest mountain in the area. Remember the mad prince in Bavaria who built the huge palace on top of the mountain –Leuchtilsillyenstein or something like that. Well, this guy was the less insane Portuguese equivalent. It was built on the remains of a medieval monastery (run! It’s a cloister!), and I liked it very much. It was whimsical and delightful – if a bit OTT.
*Note: Portugeuse food is really nice – good seafood, everything so far has been beautifully prepared, and has excellent flavor. However, with the exception of the Alantejan cuisine, it seems to be very very very lightly seasoned. Thus, we have been craving spicy food – steak all sparkly with pepper, soup bright with chile, that kind of thing.
We then walked along the mountain ridge (getting a bit footsore by this point, I don’t mind telling you) to the slightly reconstructed Moorish castle ruin on the next high bit over. This Moorish ruin was abandoned when the Crusaders took Lisbon back from the Moors – these guys saw their neighbor’s castle on fire and ran for the hills. Consequently this castle never had to withstand a siege, and is in rather good shape. We climbed all the cobbly and ankletwisty way to the top, took pictures, then congratulated ourselves on our fitness and good luck to be there.
Back down to Sintra – we decided to hike (we could have taken the bus, but none of us were that wimpy). Not far laterally. Long way vertically.
*sigh*
With thighs cracking from the climb up, and knees cracking from the precipitous descent, Lynn and I set off for town. Luckily, we ran into our handsome and helpful Portuguese guide Carlos, and he walked with us into town, merrily chattering the whole way. All the girls were jealous – Carlos is one good looking fella. Nice too.
So, we yet again all piled into the bus and drove in a merry circle. Seriously – we drove right back to where we met the bus before we went to our next destination. Please don’t interpret this as a slight against our bus driver – this guy, as I have mentioned, is a genius. He takes the bus up and down hairpin switchbacks with such finesse and awe inspiring speed that we spontaneously applaud him. He’s that good.
We eventually ended up at a nearby hotel for a Port wine tasting. Yum. I finally had Port that I liked – but bad news too. I’ve got very expensive tastes, as it turns out. *sigh*
We also had a drawing competition to draw the site plan for the hotel and gardens that we had only briefly seen on our merry way in.
A couple of things to note for this competition:
I’d had three glasses of port
I didn’t want to win – the prize was a ticket to a thing that I didn’t want to go to
I didn’t go back outside to see what the grounds were like, I just made up stuff that seemed to make sense with what I remembered.
Well, I was one of the four winners. Heh.
Gave away my ticket to someone who was just gagging to go to this thing, then we all loaded back on the bus to come back to Lisbon. Well, we just kept getting delayed, and people randomly asked to get dropped off in odd corners of the city for various errands. This means that we arrived at the hotel shortly before 8:00. if you remember, I still have to visit the market. Carlos tells us of one that’s close to the hotel, not the one we’re used to, so we set off and arrive at 8:01. They closed at 8. Damn.
Tromp tromp tromp back to our familiar market. We arrive at 8:31. Posted hours indicate that they should be open until 9:00. Nope, they closed at 8:30. Double damn.
So, I still need to go buy feminine supplies. Greeeat.
We eventually get back to the hotel to find that Sandra is very very ill. Jen takes her next door for soup, and it proves to so completely overwhelm her that she had to come running back to the hotel. I go and bail out Jen, finish Sandra’s dinner (it was excellent), and come back upstairs to write all this down.
Tired now, off to bed.
February 23, 2006
Coimbra
Well, the diseased one woke early today to have an unsatisfying breadfast, then we all climbed in the bus for the long haul up north for our tour of Northern Portugal. Lynn and I sat together, as we were quite obviously infected with the disease, though there are pockets of infection elsewhere in the group and we are by no means the only diseased ones.
The trip was fairly uneventful – we stopped along the way at two monasteries and a convent to view a grand selection of 10 cloisters (the less architecturally of you can say ‘courtyard’).
The cloisters were all lovely, and interesting, but we were getting a bit slap happy towards the end. I was walking around making helpful comments when looking at people’s notebooks “you missed a cloister” and “hm, you look a bit cloisterphobic to me” seemed to be the comments that people found the most amusing – that is to say, I didn’t get chased out of the convent cackling wildly. Other people started displaying bizarre symptoms of cloisterphobia – Sandra and Francois had an impromptu yet lively skipping race, this random French guy near us started singing down a well, some people in the group made quite a show out of popping out of hidden tunnels and semi-bricked in windows, and all and sundry made wild predictions about how many cloisters we had left to visit “I heard we missed three of them” and “I thought we’d already been to this one” (yes, we had).
So I wheezed, sneezed, and snuffled my way all the way around this most diverting of entertainments, then we found ourselves at a generic but comfortable hotel in Coimbra. We’re off for a walking tour of the city tomorrow, so I’d best get myself to bed to hopefully rid myself of the disease.
Note to self – need to buy vitamins. A diet of Nutella and Digestive’s does not promote good health.
February 24, 2006
The disease continues.
We packed up early, and after an unremarkable breakfast that was again based on bread *urggg* however, with excellent coffee, we set off an put all of our stuff on the bus. Our fate was not to climb on the bus (and perhaps continue sleeping) but to take our collective diseased selves climbing up the hill to the old university.
Note: By collective diseased selves, I mean that out of 32 people, we have five colds, one allergy attack, and three cases of digestive discomfort. We’re all a little ragged around the edges since the MLA students haven’t had a day off yet. We also have homework for other classes to do, but haven’t had time. Arrrg.
They say that Coimbra makes strong thighs, and they weren’t kidding. We’ve done some impressive hill climbing while we’ve been over here (the climb to Sao Jorge in Lisbon sticks particularly in my mind), but this is the first one I’ve had trouble with. Hard to climb with a nose that needs blowing every minute.
Well, we emerged chilled and sweaty from the tangle of streets up into the sunnier and warmer plaza adjacent to the old University. We took a left turn to go back down the hill a bit to have a look at the botanical garden.
It was gorgeous! We had a whirlwind tour of the formal gardens, test plots, and arboretum. We MLA students were not keen on going to the university after this so after a bit of carefully orchestrated negotiations (we didn’t quite resort to pouty lips and misty eyes) we agreed to be locked into the arboretum for three hours. Whee! The architecture students were jealous, and I don’t blame them. We romped, we frolicked, we ran up hills with glee with the sheer delight of being free in the woods after the density and peoplyness of Portuguese cities. We took delight in taking silly photos of Bret , we fenced with four foot long spiny pinecones. All of a sudden, my cold felt much better, and the weather warmed up.
After we romped around the garden with giddiness and freedom, we settled down to do some sketching, so that we could have tangible evidence of work and possibly secure these freedoms for ourselves again.
My favorite part of the arboretum was the bamboo grove – it was groovy!
Hot, thirsty, and giddy, we snuck ourselves out of the arboretum in twos and threes to meet the bus to be taken to lunch to Meta des Leitoes (I think).
Lunch was a splendid affair that consisted of the following:
Bread (urrrrg)
Homemade Potato Chips
Salad with lettuce and onions
Roast Suckling Pig (yum!)
Local white fizzy whine that is some of the best wine of any sort I’ve ever had
Weird dessert of “sugar and eggs” and “sugar, cheese, and eggs” that looked sort of like an orange pecan pie without pecans. It was very very weird, too sweet, and I can’t say I liked it very much.
Back on the bus, where singalongs and drunken karaoke helped us while away the time to our next destination, the University at Aveiro. It’s a new university, just recently built, and it’s pretty cool. I let Snoopy out for a run and took his picture at a famous water tower.
Back to the buses (it is now 6:15 PM) and on to Porto. Pity I don’t like Port much. *sigh*. We stopped at an overlook and climbed up another large hill *puff* *puff* to have a look at the city of Porto (north side of the river) and the city of Gaia (south side of the river, where we are staying). Pretty view at night, took some pictures.
Then, back to the hotel, and sleep and sneezing.
February 25, 2006
Porto
The disease continues. It’s bad enough that Lynn stayed home for the day. I didn’t think that I felt *that* bad, so I went on the tours. Ugh.
First stop was Casa Da Musica – a funhouse of irregular rooms, sloping floors, and perception manipulation. Do *not* go here if you have a cold – my inner ear thought I was on a rollercoaster. The undulating travertine plaza was pretty cool though.
Afterwards, we drove up the coast to go to a teahouse designed by a famous guy. Sandra frogmarched me in there and made me drink a café con leite (café au lait) while she sketched. I sat there blowing my nose as elegantly as possible. It was a neat location – built right on the edge of a rocky beach, with excellent views of the Atlantic. It made Snoopy wistful for home.
Then, we walked a mile or so down the coast to a spot where the same famous dude had converted some tidepools to swimming pools. Interesting solution to the problem of people swimming on a rocky beach, but a little moot since there was an excellent sand beach 100 meters further down the coast.
We stopped for lunch in a “Mexican” restaurant. Some of us ordered the “burrito” and really got an unseasoned chimichanga. Arroz were actually served as refritos, and poor Hannah had the worst of it. She ordered “ensalata” or salad, was charged for an “enchilada” but was served a fried taco. All in all, the food wasn’t bad, and we were soon on the buses to head back into town.
We got back to Porto and went to an Architecture school designed by the same famous dude. The architecture itself was not that interesting to me, but there was a neat mechanism for opening windows and doors. I took pictures for you James. There was also a lovely 19th century garden.
Afterwards, we went to Serralves – a beautifully landscaped Museum. Sandra again frogmarched me upstairs to the café for a refreshing coffee. I was a sight – a little sunburned, sweaty with disease, snuffling, mad hair, bags under eyes, and a general lack of posture. The waiter was a gorgeous piece of Portuguese man, and Sandra even blushed when she saw him. I myself was a bit oblivious until he winked very obviously at me when I asked for the bill. I got two more winks or goo-goo eyes as we were leaving. I guess they like ‘em puffy and sweaty over here! To be fair, we were the only blondes in the vicinity. Sandra swears that I got “the look” from no less than three security guards on the way out. Hmmm…
So we went for a walk around the semi-excellent gardens, then back to the hotel for an omelette and early bedtime.
February 26, 2006
Sunday
Porto
Sandra’s Pastry Fetish Gets Out of Hand
Today was a long day, again. Set off early in the morning to drive out to the small town of Marco De Canavesez. I was still feeling like something the cat dragged in, but since I’d done the research for today, I really wanted to see the sites.
We drove up through the lurrvly vineyards and orange groves, past the terraced hillsides and long misty mountain views until we hit the little city of Marco. The church is a very modern catholic church, designed by a very very famous Portuguese architect. This guy has designed most of the modern stuff we’ve seen. The church was moderately cool, in a spectacular setting, and just about to be populated by the local populace for mass – so we got kicked out rather unceremoniously by a grumpy old dude.
Back to the bus and we set off for the town of Braga. Braga is very devout, and is considered to be the ecclesiastical center of Portugal – the Rome, as it were. We wandered around looking longingly in the shops that were not open. Prices here are very good, and the quality is quite reasonable for clothing, etc. However, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m just not a shopper. The only stuff here that I like costs the same as it does in the US, so I’m not inclined to buy something just for the honor of humping it across Europe as some sort of bizarre souvenir. Well, that is unless I find the perfect shoes – but I’m sure you understand. I’m sure Roman is doing backflips right now out of joy that I’m not making this trip much more expensive than it has to be. Bad news honey – I am going to have to buy some new shirts at some point – the ones I have are going raggy quickly and my pants are too big.
Anyway, I’m jumping ahead a bit in the story. Let’s backtrack a bit to our arrival in Braga. Our impressive bus driver (seriously, he’s so good that we’ve applauded him on multiple occasions – the first was a three point turn of a full sized bus on a narrow rural road t-intersection and deep ditches at the sides of the roads) drove us to the cultural market first. This was designed by a dude of moderate famousness, fell into massive disrepair, then was partially remodeled to a state of post-apocalyptic anti-chic. Feh. Nasty loo too. Just one sheet of paper tucked in there to make it look like there was a full roll.
On the way back to the bus, I ducked into a café behind Francois to get a Frize Limao – the best fizzy water I’ve ever had. Francois got some kind of luscious pastry, and we headed to the bus. As he climbed on the bus, there was some commotion that took some time to clear. The aftermath revealed that he had cruelly taunted Sandra with his pastry, and Sandra –in a manner not unlike that of a shark- dove in and attacked. She took away a huge bite of the pastry and much to the bus’ horror, left behind a long goobery stringer of drool as she snapped back from the attack. Francois ate the rest of the pastry anyway, and we’ve all been guarding our food ever since.
This pastry thing has really gotten out of hand.
Fast forward by half an hour and Sandra, Lynn, and I are walking through the quietest city we’ve ever seen. Duh, everyone’s at church. We found a coffeeshop and Lynn and I got meringues and caffe con leite (for the record, I’m averaging a couple of pastries a week). Sandra got some sort of fruit napoleon sort of thing with a bica (espresso).
We then decide we couldn’t do the rest of the day on pastries, so we went off in search of some lunch. We ended up at one of the few places that was open and got a burger. Or rather, I got a burger. Sandra got a burger with a fried egg in it.
Back to the bus, and we set off to look at a fancy hotel up in the hills. It was astoundingly gorgeous (Roman, we have to go stay there), and we passed a lovely couple of hours being pests and flitting around with cameras.
Back to the bus and we set off for the chapel of Jesus’ bum on the mountain. Um, not exactly… really it was called Bom Jesus do Monte. It’s a big staircase on a mountain, and since I was feeling pretty rough again by this point, I punted and took the bus to the top. We took many pretty pictures, romped a bit, got frightened by a ghost* then went back to Porto for our final night (no dinner again – just Digestive biscuits then bed. Everyone’s addicted to Digestives now!). Us four girls (Sandra, Lynn, Hannah, and I) tucked into bed, watched a movie called Chocolat, ate digestives, and drank three bottles of champagne.
*Sandra and I were walking down one of the many staircases at Bom Jesus and I felt a firm shove behind my knees, as I turned around expecting to see a classmate fooling with us I saw nothing, except Sandra turning around too. She had also felt the knee shove.
February 29, 2006
Porto to Viseu
Still diseased, but much less than I had been. Went for an uninspiring walk around Porto while we killed time waiting for the bus. The best part of this was the awesome pair of 35 euro sunglasses I scored.
Brief stop by a gungy and smoky internet café, and we were back on the buses to head to Viseu for the night. The drive was very pretty – mountains, snow capped peaks, oranges, and vines.
At one point, desperate for entertainment, someone let Francois get ahold of the microphone for the PA system on the bus. He went around and gathered questions and interviewed our professor in the style of James Lipton. It was hilarious all round but the most outstanding moment was when we asked the professor “Boxers or briefs?” and he replied “I think Olive Oil is best” Hm, I’ll let your imagination fill in the gaps on that one.
Our hotel in Viseu is charming in the extreme and we wandered off in a roving pack of students in search of a meal. Ended up in a 10 seat restaurant, up a back stairway, in an alley. After the owner kicked out a group of his friends so we could sit down, we ordered an assortment of grilled meats (we is Joanne, Sandra, Lynn, Meredith, Samantha, and Matt), random vegetables, and excellent chips. The wine, however, was awful in the extreme.
We declined all offers to go to the largest nightclub in Portugal due to my healing disease, and Sandras impeding one, so we went back to the hotel and swapped fart stories into the wee small hours.
Note of point, Sandra had no pastries yesterday. She may be hoarding them, must check luggage.
February 28, 2006
Tuesday
Woke in Viseu, went to bed in Lisbon
We slept in a bit, until about 8:00 AM. I showered, then woke my roommates. Much to my surprise, Hannah popped right awake. Hannah, having discovered her inner party animal, had been out until 5:15 in the morning. That’s my girl.
So, we went for our breakfast (guess what? It was bread! Oh yay, my favorite. Yum yum yum.) then went next door to the internet.
No, I’m serious. The internet. There was a sign and everything. Downstairs was pinball, upstairs was an awesome LAN party setup. Checked email and comments, was sad to have received none,
After this, off for a walk around town – it was a very attractive town, full of big rocks that they just built stuff into and around. We stopped for coffees frequently, of course, especially since the disease has not yet disappeared.
We then toured a cool museum – worth a visit if you’re ever in Viseu (just across from the Se), then back down to the buses to go home.
A couple of things to note here:
Portugal is a very Catholic country.
February 28 is a religious holiday in Portugal, being Mardi Gras and all (they call it Carnavale).
Shops aren’t open on religious holidays.
I desperately needed to buy feminine supplies.
March 1, 2006
Lisbon
Up early, and confirmed that Sandra now has the disease. When you tell people that other people have the disease, you now have to specify. Sotto voce “intestinal?” We’ve got people dropping like flies – apart from hangovers and other self inflicted woes, there’s an intestinal bug (amusing poofles, screaming runs, the whole bit) and the plague/cold/flu bug. I got the plague/cold/flu one var.Joanne.1 (sneezing, runny nose, fatigue transitioning into fatigue/sore throat/cough). Var.Lynn.1 is sneezing, runny nose, fatigue transitioning into fatigue/cough). Var.Sandra.1 is proving to be the worst so far, with symptoms of the intestinal bug surfacing also. I’m jumping ahead though.
Sandra decided that she wanted McDonald’s for breakfast – we know that there is one nearby, she’s sick, so Jen and I indulged her. For me also it would be a welcome change – I hate eating this much bread, I can feel it sucking the health and wellness right out of me. So, we took Sandra and her disease over to the Rossio Placa only to discover that this McDonald’s in Portugal doesn’t serve breakfast. Oh bugger.
Since the previous day had been a holiday, and I needed to score some feminine supplies, we decided to stop by the market on our way back to the hotel to catch the bus at 9. Well, the market doesn’t even open until 9. Oh bugger.
Back to the hotel, breadackfest, and Sandra decided to stay home for the day and be sick in private. I begged some interim feminine supplies off a very very very very very good friend (thanks Lynn!), and we set off for a very long day.
First stop was the house of the Marquis do Fronteira or similar. Neat stately home – used to be the summer palace of the dude, but became the main residence when their home in Lisbon fell down during the earthquake of 1755. Bummer, dude. Least you had an offsite backup though. Got a tour from an Englishman, then back on the buses to the next stop.
Next stop is the palace of Queluz. Queluz is what happens when the King of Portugal decides to build a minor Versailles. Hm – I don’t think I buy it. The details were all nice and all (maintenance issues aside) but on a more philosophical scale, Versailles doesn’t work unless it *is* Versailles. This is *not* Versailles.
Next stop, back to Sintra (remember, we were there last week to visit Montserrate) for a bit of lunch (Italian this time*). Then we took the bus up to the palace that the King had built at the top of the highest mountain in the area. Remember the mad prince in Bavaria who built the huge palace on top of the mountain –Leuchtilsillyenstein or something like that. Well, this guy was the less insane Portuguese equivalent. It was built on the remains of a medieval monastery (run! It’s a cloister!), and I liked it very much. It was whimsical and delightful – if a bit OTT.
*Note: Portugeuse food is really nice – good seafood, everything so far has been beautifully prepared, and has excellent flavor. However, with the exception of the Alantejan cuisine, it seems to be very very very lightly seasoned. Thus, we have been craving spicy food – steak all sparkly with pepper, soup bright with chile, that kind of thing.
We then walked along the mountain ridge (getting a bit footsore by this point, I don’t mind telling you) to the slightly reconstructed Moorish castle ruin on the next high bit over. This Moorish ruin was abandoned when the Crusaders took Lisbon back from the Moors – these guys saw their neighbor’s castle on fire and ran for the hills. Consequently this castle never had to withstand a siege, and is in rather good shape. We climbed all the cobbly and ankletwisty way to the top, took pictures, then congratulated ourselves on our fitness and good luck to be there.
Back down to Sintra – we decided to hike (we could have taken the bus, but none of us were that wimpy). Not far laterally. Long way vertically.
*sigh*
With thighs cracking from the climb up, and knees cracking from the precipitous descent, Lynn and I set off for town. Luckily, we ran into our handsome and helpful Portuguese guide Carlos, and he walked with us into town, merrily chattering the whole way. All the girls were jealous – Carlos is one good looking fella. Nice too.
So, we yet again all piled into the bus and drove in a merry circle. Seriously – we drove right back to where we met the bus before we went to our next destination. Please don’t interpret this as a slight against our bus driver – this guy, as I have mentioned, is a genius. He takes the bus up and down hairpin switchbacks with such finesse and awe inspiring speed that we spontaneously applaud him. He’s that good.
We eventually ended up at a nearby hotel for a Port wine tasting. Yum. I finally had Port that I liked – but bad news too. I’ve got very expensive tastes, as it turns out. *sigh*
We also had a drawing competition to draw the site plan for the hotel and gardens that we had only briefly seen on our merry way in.
A couple of things to note for this competition:
I’d had three glasses of port
I didn’t want to win – the prize was a ticket to a thing that I didn’t want to go to
I didn’t go back outside to see what the grounds were like, I just made up stuff that seemed to make sense with what I remembered.
Well, I was one of the four winners. Heh.
Gave away my ticket to someone who was just gagging to go to this thing, then we all loaded back on the bus to come back to Lisbon. Well, we just kept getting delayed, and people randomly asked to get dropped off in odd corners of the city for various errands. This means that we arrived at the hotel shortly before 8:00. if you remember, I still have to visit the market. Carlos tells us of one that’s close to the hotel, not the one we’re used to, so we set off and arrive at 8:01. They closed at 8. Damn.
Tromp tromp tromp back to our familiar market. We arrive at 8:31. Posted hours indicate that they should be open until 9:00. Nope, they closed at 8:30. Double damn.
So, I still need to go buy feminine supplies. Greeeat.
We eventually get back to the hotel to find that Sandra is very very ill. Jen takes her next door for soup, and it proves to so completely overwhelm her that she had to come running back to the hotel. I go and bail out Jen, finish Sandra’s dinner (it was excellent), and come back upstairs to write all this down.
Tired now, off to bed.
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