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.