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.