Hello everyone, I know it's been awhile. I'm now done with my exams. Finally. Having exams stretched between the middle of December and the last week of January really makes life complicated and continually stressful. But I'm done. Like everything in France, my exams were nothing like I expected. Some were shockingly broad- one political science exam included no actual questions but simply phrases that I was expected to respond to. Others were pleasantly shorter than we expected- my linguistics exam was seemingly missing the first section, and luckily that was the section I didn't know. Now, though, it's time to dive right into the second semester. Still trying to figure out my schedule, especially because I'm hoping to get an internship and that will change the number of credits I need. We will see...
I went to Egypt. It's okay if you didn't know, I didn't tell my parents until just before I left. I figured it was less time for them to worry about it. Egypt was incredible, frustrating, amazing, and sad. Possibly some more adjectives that I can't think of right now. I've never been anywhere that created so many emotions. So many conflicting emotions. I want to go back. And I want to go to Morocco, and South Africa, and everywhere else for that matter. But it was hard. I went with Sean, a friend from high school. I don't think you could really see Egypt if it was just a group of girls. I hate saying that. It bothers my feminist instincts. But so does Egypt in general. I brought a scarf with me, not sure how many women would cover their head. I would say less than 20 % were uncovered, so I felt painfully obvious walking down the streets uncovered. But I felt like a fraud when I wore my scarf. Everyone still knew that I wasn't Egyptian, or Muslim. And I couldn't decide whether it was more appropriate to cover my head when I didn't believe in it or to obviously defy their customs. Still, I tried, and I wore long sleeves and long pants everywhere. Which is more than I can say for the hordes of tourists at the main sites, who saw nothing of Egypt that didn't require an entrance ticket. Our hotel was right in downtown Cairo. Which can be terrifying, certainly at least just crossing the street requires a blatant disregard for your life, or as our guide book told us, "just use one of the locals as a shield. they usually don't mind." We were in the middle of Egypt. And in the middle of millions of Egyptians. Every time we stepped out the door. Of course our hotel was on the 8th floor of an old appartment building who elevators stopped working the second day we were there. So stepping out the door was more of a process than what it sounds. We tried to really explore the city. It's overwhelming, though, with the traffic and the locals. In Italy, there's also people selling things and calling out as you walk down the streets. But not to the same extent as in Egypt. Egyptians are friendly, but taxi drivers, tour guides, papyrus makers are everywhere, just waiting to sell you something. Most often we heard locals offer a quiet "welcome" as we walked by, though I was also complemented on my eyebrows, hair, etc. One man told me to call him after I took my black nail polish off. Everyone assumed we were married, because I don't think many Egyptians travel together as friends. After we explained that we weren't, most of the men offered to marry me themselves. One man who ran an alabastor factory gave me "his heart." I walked away with a few souvenir pieces of alabastor, and in fact a carved alabastor heart. Does that mean we are married now? Probably. The obvious parts of Egypt are as incredible as expected. You can't hide the immensity or the grace of the Pyramids. Or the Valley of the Kings. Or any of it really. There were times when it felt a little too touristy but the ruins spoke for themselves. There are a million Egyptians at every tourist destination willing to give you the back tour or point out an extra hieroglyph for a few extra Egyptian pounds. There are separate tickets for nearly everything, as you can pay one price just to walk around the ruins, another to actually go in, probably another to take pictures...you never know. We hired a taxi for the day and traveled to the first pyramid, the Step Pyramid at Saccara. Then we stopped at Memphis, the old capital. And finally, the Pyramids of Giza. We rode a camel for a short trip from one pyramid to another, literally using the last of our money. That's always an effective bargaining tool, when you really have no more money. I enjoyed the ride between destinations almost as much as the destinations themselves, sitting in the back of a dusty taxi listening to Egyptian music and driving through the countryside of Egypt. Our driver stopped so we could eat oranges that his sister sells by the side of the road. My first impulse is to call Cairo dirty. But I think it's really just dusty. Understandable, considering the desert and the age of everything. It's loud and dusty, but surprisingly more charming than expected. We were invited by several people on the street to go to a coffeehouse and drink "shai" with them, Egyptians drink tea maybe 10 times a day and it's such a social activity. We met a surprising number of Egyptians who had lived in Minnesota. Everyone associates Chicago with Al Capone. I was so impressed with their English. Not just those in the tourist industry, but many of the people of the street spoke near perfect English. I want to learn Arabic.
We took the night train down to Luxor, which is where the Valley of the Kings, Valley of the Queens, Colossi of Memnon, etc. are located. We ended up joining a small tour organized by a hotel owner which took us to all of the spots we wanted to see. I have no pictures of the mummies or the inside of the tombs, as you're not allowed to bring your camera inside, and I don't know that I can even describe them. But they are incredible. The officials had only recently returned King Tut's mummy to his tomb, so we saw both the outer sarcophagus and his mummy inside. Most of the spoils are in the Egyptian Museum in Cairo, which is an incredible maze of discoveries. But the tombs themselves retain an almost austere glory. Hatshepsut's Temple seems nearly untouched as you first approach it. Up close, sure, there's fallen columns and destroyed paintings. But still. It's incredible. The Colossi of Memnon are, well, gigantic. And I made the tour stop so I could at least get a picture from the side of the road of the Ramesseum, which has the fallen statue of Ramses II that Shelley wrote about in his poem 'Ozymandias.' No one else understood why I wanted to see it. After our tour, the hotel owner appeared and invited us to his home to see the real Egypt. Although we were both a little nervous, I'm so glad that we did. He lives with his sister and her husband, and their four daughters in a small house near the Colossi of Memnon, in the middle of a small farming community. His sister kept bringing dishes out of the kitchen, and they were all delicious. I hated that she didn't just sit and eat with us though, although I don't think she spoke any English. The four daughters were adorable and hilarious. They loved our digital cameras, chewing gum and tried teaching us a little bit of Arabic. But you could already see the difference between the oldest, who was about 9, and the others. She came into the room with her head uncovered, but quickly left and returned with a scarf. Her younger sisters tore off their scarves as soon as they were in the room. She tended to stand off to the side, waiting for her uncle to tell her what to bring him or where to go. After a while, she started joining in on the fun, but it was sad to see how much more reserved she was. It was an incredible afternoon, though, relaxing and an amazing view into Egypt that I never expected to get. After our late lunch, we headed to the banks of the Nile where we took a 'felucca,' or basically a sailboat, ride. It was so relaxing and beautiful. And incredible to be out on the Nile. Luckily, I saw no crocodiles. We returned to Cairo that night, and the next day we explored Coptic Cairo. Ten percent of Cairo is Coptic Christian and their quarter contains some amazing buildings. We saw the Ben Ezra Synagogue, the oldest in Egypt and supposedly where the Jews gathered after escaping Nebuchadnezzar. Just around the outside wall is the spring where the Pharaoh's daughter supposedly found Moses in the reeds. We also saw the Hanging Church, from around the 6th century. By the end of our time in Cairo, we had nearly mastered 'Gad,' the Egyptian fast food restaurant that our hotel recommended. Everything was in arabic so we learned just to ask for some kind of sandwich and take what we got. One day we got four falafel sandwiches for about one dollar. One day I might have gotten pigeon. We're not sure.
It's hard to love a city where you don't feel comfortable. And I don't think that I could ever really feel comfortable in Cairo. Certainly not by myself, and not entirely even with anyone else. But I want to go back. I want to explore it again. I want to see more of "real Egypt." But that will be later. My next goal is Morocco.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
Double Dare
So Callie dared me to be a vegetarian for the two weeks before we go home. Ignoring the obvious obstacle of living with a French family (which is exactly why Callie has her own apartment), it's been three and a half days. Being a vegetarian in France is hard. Yesterday there were no sandwiches without meat left in any of the stores when I went to have lunch...let's just say I'm really looking forward to eating a nice Christmas dinner.
Also, I am now a legal (temporary) resident of France. I have a shiny laminated Residency Permit and everything. With a terrible picture. I wanted to go to the Photomaton in Gare du Nord last time I was in Paris to get my pictures taken as a little homage to "Amelie," but I would have missed my train from Gare Montparnasse. Oh well, the little grocery store down the street is just a little less poetic. I've also started giving my name as "Amelie" when I order pizza. Not that they understand me any better, since last time they wrote down "Marie," but I really hate the name "Emilie" in french. It's just not pretty...
Tomorrow the professors vote on whether we'll have first semester exams at the end of January instead of our semester break or if they'll push them back til April. In general, I'm a fan of procrastination. But April seems a little extreme. I really hope they vote for January, as I'll still have a decent break between my Science-Po exams at the beginning of January and the Bordeaux 3 exam period. But we'll see...
Also, I am now a legal (temporary) resident of France. I have a shiny laminated Residency Permit and everything. With a terrible picture. I wanted to go to the Photomaton in Gare du Nord last time I was in Paris to get my pictures taken as a little homage to "Amelie," but I would have missed my train from Gare Montparnasse. Oh well, the little grocery store down the street is just a little less poetic. I've also started giving my name as "Amelie" when I order pizza. Not that they understand me any better, since last time they wrote down "Marie," but I really hate the name "Emilie" in french. It's just not pretty...
Tomorrow the professors vote on whether we'll have first semester exams at the end of January instead of our semester break or if they'll push them back til April. In general, I'm a fan of procrastination. But April seems a little extreme. I really hope they vote for January, as I'll still have a decent break between my Science-Po exams at the beginning of January and the Bordeaux 3 exam period. But we'll see...
Monday, December 3, 2007
Enough foie gras to last a lifetime...
This weekend, Middlebury organized a trip to Dordogne, home of the caves of Lascaux, some beautiful chateaux and, of course, foie gras. The region itself is beautiful, weirdly reminiscent of the English countryside. Well, I haven't actually been to England, but that's what it reminded me of anyway. Or possibly Vermont? Everytime I go somewhere it seems to remind me of somewhere else. I have all these vague memories of one place or another, but I want to go somewhere that's entirely new. Maybe there is no such place, maybe I'll always be looking for something vaguely familiar. Either way, Dordogne is lovely. Rolling green hills, very cozy looking cottages. Medieval cities. Ancient art. The caves of Lascaux are awe-inspiring, with such detail and immense dimensions. But then again, we only saw the replicas. Since their discovery in 1940, the actual caves have been occasionally on display to the public; however, after a scare with bacteria only scientists are allowed in the originals. Instead, they created an exact replica practically next to the actual caves. One woman spent four years painstakinly duplicating the massive paintings in a man-made cave. It sounds cheesy, and it is, kind of. It's hard to explain because before and after you're in the cave, you can't help but be aware of the actual caves that you're missing out on. They're noted as much for their age as for their beauty, and the ones that I saw were drawn in the 80s. However, when you are inside, you forget that. It is incredible to see them, to try and understand all the drawings. When (or if) they re-open the original, I would love to be able to see them.
We spent Sunday exploring the medieval town of Sarlat. It's incredibly well preserved, with dozens of houses from the 14th, 15th and 16th centuries. The hotel we stayed in was from the 15th century, and Susan and I were at the top of the tower. It was a nice weekend, seeing a different, quieter side of France. Bordeaux itself is a step down from Paris, but a quite different from the little villages I always imagined. I think Sarlat reminded me most of Rothenburg, Germany. Charming, warm (in spirit anyway, although luckily it didn't rain most of the time).
And now I'm back to reality. After three weeks of strikes, we are returning to class. For three weeks before Christmas break. No one, not even the professors really, understands how we'll be able to cover everything, take our exams, etc. I'm divided because I sympathize with the students. Ironically, they were fighting to keep French universities from becoming more like American universities. And while I'm rather partial to our university system, I don't know that it's the best fit for France. The students are worried about the universality of their degrees if each university can decide its program. In a country where young people have a terrible time finding employment, I can understand why anything that might further hurt their chances would be terrifying. And the students were rebelling against Sarkozy in general, and his conservative agenda. My host family keeps telling me that no one should be complaining because Sarkozy is just doing exactly what he said he would do. But I don't think the students elected Sarkozy, the man who half the french refer to as the "American." And I promise it's not a term of endearment.
The stereotype of American-French relations is certainly exagerrated. I've never had any real problems, if anything I'm a curiosity in Bordeaux because few American tourists realize Bordeaux is a city and not just a wine. But there is a subtle pro-British sentiment anyway, if not overtly anti-American. When they have to choose between Anglo-Saxon powers, the French prefer the British. The kids in my second grade English class have told me that I don't actually speak english because I'm American. Also, they have a map of english-speaking countries in the classroom that doesn't include the United States. Americans don't speak real english. Americans aren't as cultured as the British. Even when people recognize my accent, I've never once been asked if I'm American. It's always British first. Sometimes a very long list of Polish, German, Swedish, etc, before I finally cave and admit to being American.
We spent Sunday exploring the medieval town of Sarlat. It's incredibly well preserved, with dozens of houses from the 14th, 15th and 16th centuries. The hotel we stayed in was from the 15th century, and Susan and I were at the top of the tower. It was a nice weekend, seeing a different, quieter side of France. Bordeaux itself is a step down from Paris, but a quite different from the little villages I always imagined. I think Sarlat reminded me most of Rothenburg, Germany. Charming, warm (in spirit anyway, although luckily it didn't rain most of the time).
And now I'm back to reality. After three weeks of strikes, we are returning to class. For three weeks before Christmas break. No one, not even the professors really, understands how we'll be able to cover everything, take our exams, etc. I'm divided because I sympathize with the students. Ironically, they were fighting to keep French universities from becoming more like American universities. And while I'm rather partial to our university system, I don't know that it's the best fit for France. The students are worried about the universality of their degrees if each university can decide its program. In a country where young people have a terrible time finding employment, I can understand why anything that might further hurt their chances would be terrifying. And the students were rebelling against Sarkozy in general, and his conservative agenda. My host family keeps telling me that no one should be complaining because Sarkozy is just doing exactly what he said he would do. But I don't think the students elected Sarkozy, the man who half the french refer to as the "American." And I promise it's not a term of endearment.
The stereotype of American-French relations is certainly exagerrated. I've never had any real problems, if anything I'm a curiosity in Bordeaux because few American tourists realize Bordeaux is a city and not just a wine. But there is a subtle pro-British sentiment anyway, if not overtly anti-American. When they have to choose between Anglo-Saxon powers, the French prefer the British. The kids in my second grade English class have told me that I don't actually speak english because I'm American. Also, they have a map of english-speaking countries in the classroom that doesn't include the United States. Americans don't speak real english. Americans aren't as cultured as the British. Even when people recognize my accent, I've never once been asked if I'm American. It's always British first. Sometimes a very long list of Polish, German, Swedish, etc, before I finally cave and admit to being American.
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Possibly a curve ball...
Last tuesday, I was in my literature class, attempting to take an exam which required me to analyze 6 pages in 2 and 1/2 hours while composing a decent 5 page essay. Handwritten essay, because french kids don't type their homework. They also don't write on lined paper, but on essentially graph paper. They all have pencil cases. Anyway, I had just about finished my introduction which meant I actually had to deal with the fact of writing a paper in french without handy wordreference.com. But then they started barricading the doors.
The french kids went on strike. There's no union. It's just that they're unhappy with Sarkozy and a new law interferring with the "autonomy" of the universities, which no one really understands. And they're french. So we're striking. About 2,000 kids stood in the courtyard and voted, while I was attempting to write my paper. Even though it was a little bit undemocratic, enough kids wanted to stop classes that everyone just went with it. The administration does what the kids want. Maybe that's what they mean by autonomy of the universities. From where I was sitting in my classroom, I could see kids starting to pile tables and chairs in front of one set of doors. Everyone could hear the people running through the hallway. Our professor tried to make us just keep writing, but finally she went into the hallway and realized what was going on. She told us just to take our stuff and go, and finish the papers at home for class next week. I had no idea what was waiting for us in the hallway, and I was picturing something very scary and intense. It was actually the most polite forced-exit and barricading of a building I've even seen, anyway, and they let anyone out who wanted to go (as long as you could find the 2 doors that were still open) before they fully sealed off the building. My friend's professor told them they could always climb out the windows...
They originally voted to suspend classes from Tuesday until Friday, and they voted yesterday to continue the strike at least through this up-coming Tuesday. Which again means no essay for me. And also no linguistics exam, but Callie saw our linguistics professor voting for the strike so I don't think he's too upset. The train workers seem to be ending their strike, hopefully just in time so that I can get to Paris to see Mary next weekend and then to Poitiers to celebrate a real American Thanksgiving with Caroline. But now it seems the students are getting more determined. We can barely believe that there's only 5 weeks left in this semester (although we've been debating it and it's possibly only 4 weeks because November only has 30 days...it made sense to me). But if the strikes continue, it will change this last month a little bit. I'm not sure how we're going to cram everything in or if they'll just change the exams.
Still don't know if I'm coming home for Christmas. I feel like that should be decided soon. I really want to go to Sweden in December, but I'm thinking I should be more concerned about having enough money to get to Paris to fly home. If I'm coming home. Which is, again, yet to be determined.
I'm also stressing about getting all the paperwork filled out for essentially my residency permit since I'm staying here longer than 6 months. People keep telling me that I won't get deported, but who knows. Can I request deportation to somewhere warmer? They have started decorating for Christmas here. That's weird. I guess since they don't have Thanksgiving to break up the fall, there's no reason not to start thinking about Christmas already. One day soon, I will take my camera out and actually show you this city. I promise.
The french kids went on strike. There's no union. It's just that they're unhappy with Sarkozy and a new law interferring with the "autonomy" of the universities, which no one really understands. And they're french. So we're striking. About 2,000 kids stood in the courtyard and voted, while I was attempting to write my paper. Even though it was a little bit undemocratic, enough kids wanted to stop classes that everyone just went with it. The administration does what the kids want. Maybe that's what they mean by autonomy of the universities. From where I was sitting in my classroom, I could see kids starting to pile tables and chairs in front of one set of doors. Everyone could hear the people running through the hallway. Our professor tried to make us just keep writing, but finally she went into the hallway and realized what was going on. She told us just to take our stuff and go, and finish the papers at home for class next week. I had no idea what was waiting for us in the hallway, and I was picturing something very scary and intense. It was actually the most polite forced-exit and barricading of a building I've even seen, anyway, and they let anyone out who wanted to go (as long as you could find the 2 doors that were still open) before they fully sealed off the building. My friend's professor told them they could always climb out the windows...
They originally voted to suspend classes from Tuesday until Friday, and they voted yesterday to continue the strike at least through this up-coming Tuesday. Which again means no essay for me. And also no linguistics exam, but Callie saw our linguistics professor voting for the strike so I don't think he's too upset. The train workers seem to be ending their strike, hopefully just in time so that I can get to Paris to see Mary next weekend and then to Poitiers to celebrate a real American Thanksgiving with Caroline. But now it seems the students are getting more determined. We can barely believe that there's only 5 weeks left in this semester (although we've been debating it and it's possibly only 4 weeks because November only has 30 days...it made sense to me). But if the strikes continue, it will change this last month a little bit. I'm not sure how we're going to cram everything in or if they'll just change the exams.
Still don't know if I'm coming home for Christmas. I feel like that should be decided soon. I really want to go to Sweden in December, but I'm thinking I should be more concerned about having enough money to get to Paris to fly home. If I'm coming home. Which is, again, yet to be determined.
I'm also stressing about getting all the paperwork filled out for essentially my residency permit since I'm staying here longer than 6 months. People keep telling me that I won't get deported, but who knows. Can I request deportation to somewhere warmer? They have started decorating for Christmas here. That's weird. I guess since they don't have Thanksgiving to break up the fall, there's no reason not to start thinking about Christmas already. One day soon, I will take my camera out and actually show you this city. I promise.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
And one more thing...
Links to my Spain pictures: http://middlebury.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2025155&l=0ab3a&id=4403360
Portugal pictures: http://middlebury.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2025157&l=7e0fc&id=4403360
One warning: Yes, my hair is a little different then you might remember. I promise it's not permanent. But I felt like too much of a tourist with my blonde hair. Mom, stop freaking out! I haven't gotten any tatoos or piercings.
A few other random thoughts:
The woman at the grocery store the other day asked me where I got my wallet. As sad as it made me to talk about Target, I thought it was a victory that a french woman liked something I owned.
When you fly on the cheap Spanish airline I took, they play music over the speakers during the flight.
Also, when I was waiting for the flight from Madrid, they were making announcements in only Spanish and English, making all the French passengers angry. I overheard an interesting debate behind me, about whether they should make the announcements in French too, since the flight was headed to Paris. One french man was defending the airline, saying it's a British airline with Spanish employees here and most travelers are probably English-speakers. But, really, shouldn't they have made them in French too? Even if the whole flight was full of Americans, it was landing in France. Interesting...
Portugal pictures: http://middlebury.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2025157&l=7e0fc&id=4403360
One warning: Yes, my hair is a little different then you might remember. I promise it's not permanent. But I felt like too much of a tourist with my blonde hair. Mom, stop freaking out! I haven't gotten any tatoos or piercings.
A few other random thoughts:
The woman at the grocery store the other day asked me where I got my wallet. As sad as it made me to talk about Target, I thought it was a victory that a french woman liked something I owned.
When you fly on the cheap Spanish airline I took, they play music over the speakers during the flight.
Also, when I was waiting for the flight from Madrid, they were making announcements in only Spanish and English, making all the French passengers angry. I overheard an interesting debate behind me, about whether they should make the announcements in French too, since the flight was headed to Paris. One french man was defending the airline, saying it's a British airline with Spanish employees here and most travelers are probably English-speakers. But, really, shouldn't they have made them in French too? Even if the whole flight was full of Americans, it was landing in France. Interesting...
Wednesday, November 7, 2007
My name is Emily, and I'll be your tour guide...
Well, I sucessfully made it around the Iberian penninsula with only minimal problems. Really, considering the number of connections and types of transportation I was relying on, it is a miracle.
I headed into Paris a few days before leaving for Spain to meet up with Brad, our family friend who works for American Airlines. We had a great time, just exploring the city and we found a couple really cool places with live music that I want to go back to. It's amazing how quickly Paris became familiar. I just wandered Paris for nearly 2 days by myself, without a map, and loved it. However, you have to appreciate the organization of Paris- you can never really be lost because every street is labeled with it's name and arrondissement, so you even know which area of the city you are in. I went to Montmartre for the first time, and climbed the steps up to the Sacre Coeur. It is very impressive but I always laugh when I realize that some of Europe's classic monuments are not older than anything in the U.S. I have this idea that everything here is old, and I forget that Europe has changed too. I also walked around the Pere Lachaise cemetary where so many famous people are buried, but it was raining and there were no maps that I could find. So I stumbled upon Balzac's tomb, and Eugene Delacroix's too, but I did not find Jim Morrison's.
I made it to Barcelona without any problems, except for realizing that I could no longer speak Spanish once I got there. The trains to the center of the city weren't running, but I was able to tell the woman where I needed to go in Spanish, but it was all downhill from there. Ordering food, asking for directions,...I felt like I was translating from English to French to Spanish. And even then, my vocab felt so limited. That was one of the most frustrating things about the trip. I can handle being in countries where I don't speak the language at all, but I when I feel like I should be able to...I just keep thinking about how my Spanish was so much better than my French in June. I did love being around the Catalan though, and I could start to read it reasonably well but I can't pronounce a lanuage that I've really never heard. And Catalan people don't speak Catalan to non-Catalans. Although I think one guy in a coffee shop might have, either that or I just couldn't understand the Castillian spanish.
My first day in Barcelona I just wandered around the city. I didn't want to go to any of the main sights because I knew Caroline was coming later and had never seen the city, so I just walked along Las Ramblas and then through all the neighborhoods where Gaudi and the other Modernists designed apartments. It was a very nice re-introduction to the city. Caroline got in pretty late, so I went to the train station to get her. It's funny because once again on this trip, I was definitely the tour guide. I don't mind at all, especially in Barcelona, but I really had only been there for 2 days four years ago. We hung out with a bunch of the kids in our room at the hostel that night, and then did the big Gaudi stuff the next day. We went to La Sagrada Familia and Parc Guell- two of my favorite places in Barcelona. We were at Parc Guell just as the sun was setting and it was beautiful, although the pictures couldn't really capture it. The next day we just walked along Las Ramblas, went to the Picasso museum and went out for tapas. We didn't realize we were going to be in Barcelona for Halloween, and we ended up going out with a group from our hostel to a flamenco show and then a salsa club. It was funny because clearly the only people dressed up were Americans.
It was actually a very social trip for us, in Barcelona we met a couple people that we went sightseeing with and Caroline looked up a breakfast one morning and saw a girl from her high school! We met people studying in Madrid, Florence, Barcelona, Paris...someone who's interning for Adidas in Germany, and then a few people who were just traveling for a few months, or even a year.
We flew from Barcelona to Lisbon on Friday morning. Lisbon has a very unique feeling to it...it's hard to describe, and I loved it, but it's very different than anywhere I had been. We kept using the phrase "old world." You could tell that it had been a powerful, important country, but the last 500 years had also started to wear away some of the glamour of the city. It almost felt like a colony of itself rather than the colonizer, as if someone had poured all this money in and then left. Regardless, it is beautiful, so picturesque and our hostel was amazing. We were right in the middle of the downtown pedestrian area, in the center of the city, with great common spaces to hang out in when we got back and the people working at the hostel could give us recommendations about everything. The first day there we just wandered in two different neighborhoods- one was the Alfama, the oldest neighboorhood because it survived an earthquake in the 1700s. Along our way up the hills, we also were looking for the famous cathedral, the Se. We found three churches that I thought were the big one before I realized it was actually the giant one up ahead with all the signs. They were all nice though...We also wandered in the Bairro Alto, which is where nearly all the restaurants, stores, bars, everything is. It also has a great view of the city though, and we walked to the same point that an Elevador would have taken us. Lisbon has these elevators throughout the city that just take you straight up to a platform so you don't have to climb all the hills, but we somehow ended up on the platform just walking. The second day we went specifically to a area called Belem, which is known for its tower, the Monastario dos Jeronimos, and, honestly, its pastry. The pastries were delicious and the monastary was beautiful too, with a very elaborate courtyard that I wouldn't mind having in the middle of my house. We also climbed up a different hill to reach el Castelo do San Jorge. There's remnants of the Moorish castle underneath the Medieval one, and it has an amazing view of Lisbon itself, as well as the coast. The last day we went to a town named Sintra, just 45 minutes outside of Lisbon and a UNESCO world heritage site. The town itself is lovely, but it's known for its castles. We first went to a palace that our hostel recommended, where the palace is only a small part of the attraction. It's surrounded by incredibly elaborate gardens, with stone towers, grottos, fountains. You feel like a character from a fairy tale walking around and it's even more unbelievable because it was all created in the 1800s. But it seems as if you're walking around on these ancient grounds and climbing ruins. It was like an amusement park. You have to see the pictures, although they don't really do it justice. Afterwards, we went to Pena Palace, which is painted about 10 different colors and is overlooking the whole coast of Portugal it feels like. Inside was frustrating because we had to just file through to look at each room for 5 seconds, but the views on the outside more than made up for it. And they also have really good pastry there.
Coming home was another ridiculous day of traveling. We left our hostel at around 8 in the morning and I was back in my room in Bordeaux at 11:30 that night. I flew from Lisbon to Madrid on the same flight as Caroline, but I had a much shorter connection to head back to Paris. So I had to fight everyone to get off the airplane, run through the airport following signs to the shuttle between terminals. I had a little less than an hour originally, to change from Terminal 4, which is not connected to the rest of the airport, to Terminal 1, make it through security and sprint to the gate. But then the flight from Lisbon was late. So I was panicking, sitting on the bus checking my watch obsessively. And then we come to a stop. But the driver isn't letting anyone out so I can't figure out why we are stopping. I look in front of us and I see a big group getting off a tour bus. Now I'm just angry, and don't understand why we're stopping for them. Then I glance at the tour bus sitting next to us and realize who this is. Real Madrid. The soccer team. The whole team, the manager, everyone walked right front of my bus with camera crews running around them. So I almost missed my flight because of Real Madrid. And it would have been worth it. But I made it, because there was no one in the security line and easyJet did not close the gate half an hour before the flight like they said they were going to. Luckily I also made it to Paris in time to pick up my suitcase with all my belongings that I expected to have back in September and then to make my train in plenty of time. It was a very long trip. But it was a very nice break from everything, and made me happier to be back here.
Now I have to start planning things for the rest of this semester, and it's terrifying that I can plan all the way til the end...it's not that far away. However, I wanted to go back to Paris next weekend and I think that there's going to be another strike. Of course there is...
I headed into Paris a few days before leaving for Spain to meet up with Brad, our family friend who works for American Airlines. We had a great time, just exploring the city and we found a couple really cool places with live music that I want to go back to. It's amazing how quickly Paris became familiar. I just wandered Paris for nearly 2 days by myself, without a map, and loved it. However, you have to appreciate the organization of Paris- you can never really be lost because every street is labeled with it's name and arrondissement, so you even know which area of the city you are in. I went to Montmartre for the first time, and climbed the steps up to the Sacre Coeur. It is very impressive but I always laugh when I realize that some of Europe's classic monuments are not older than anything in the U.S. I have this idea that everything here is old, and I forget that Europe has changed too. I also walked around the Pere Lachaise cemetary where so many famous people are buried, but it was raining and there were no maps that I could find. So I stumbled upon Balzac's tomb, and Eugene Delacroix's too, but I did not find Jim Morrison's.
I made it to Barcelona without any problems, except for realizing that I could no longer speak Spanish once I got there. The trains to the center of the city weren't running, but I was able to tell the woman where I needed to go in Spanish, but it was all downhill from there. Ordering food, asking for directions,...I felt like I was translating from English to French to Spanish. And even then, my vocab felt so limited. That was one of the most frustrating things about the trip. I can handle being in countries where I don't speak the language at all, but I when I feel like I should be able to...I just keep thinking about how my Spanish was so much better than my French in June. I did love being around the Catalan though, and I could start to read it reasonably well but I can't pronounce a lanuage that I've really never heard. And Catalan people don't speak Catalan to non-Catalans. Although I think one guy in a coffee shop might have, either that or I just couldn't understand the Castillian spanish.
My first day in Barcelona I just wandered around the city. I didn't want to go to any of the main sights because I knew Caroline was coming later and had never seen the city, so I just walked along Las Ramblas and then through all the neighborhoods where Gaudi and the other Modernists designed apartments. It was a very nice re-introduction to the city. Caroline got in pretty late, so I went to the train station to get her. It's funny because once again on this trip, I was definitely the tour guide. I don't mind at all, especially in Barcelona, but I really had only been there for 2 days four years ago. We hung out with a bunch of the kids in our room at the hostel that night, and then did the big Gaudi stuff the next day. We went to La Sagrada Familia and Parc Guell- two of my favorite places in Barcelona. We were at Parc Guell just as the sun was setting and it was beautiful, although the pictures couldn't really capture it. The next day we just walked along Las Ramblas, went to the Picasso museum and went out for tapas. We didn't realize we were going to be in Barcelona for Halloween, and we ended up going out with a group from our hostel to a flamenco show and then a salsa club. It was funny because clearly the only people dressed up were Americans.
It was actually a very social trip for us, in Barcelona we met a couple people that we went sightseeing with and Caroline looked up a breakfast one morning and saw a girl from her high school! We met people studying in Madrid, Florence, Barcelona, Paris...someone who's interning for Adidas in Germany, and then a few people who were just traveling for a few months, or even a year.
We flew from Barcelona to Lisbon on Friday morning. Lisbon has a very unique feeling to it...it's hard to describe, and I loved it, but it's very different than anywhere I had been. We kept using the phrase "old world." You could tell that it had been a powerful, important country, but the last 500 years had also started to wear away some of the glamour of the city. It almost felt like a colony of itself rather than the colonizer, as if someone had poured all this money in and then left. Regardless, it is beautiful, so picturesque and our hostel was amazing. We were right in the middle of the downtown pedestrian area, in the center of the city, with great common spaces to hang out in when we got back and the people working at the hostel could give us recommendations about everything. The first day there we just wandered in two different neighborhoods- one was the Alfama, the oldest neighboorhood because it survived an earthquake in the 1700s. Along our way up the hills, we also were looking for the famous cathedral, the Se. We found three churches that I thought were the big one before I realized it was actually the giant one up ahead with all the signs. They were all nice though...We also wandered in the Bairro Alto, which is where nearly all the restaurants, stores, bars, everything is. It also has a great view of the city though, and we walked to the same point that an Elevador would have taken us. Lisbon has these elevators throughout the city that just take you straight up to a platform so you don't have to climb all the hills, but we somehow ended up on the platform just walking. The second day we went specifically to a area called Belem, which is known for its tower, the Monastario dos Jeronimos, and, honestly, its pastry. The pastries were delicious and the monastary was beautiful too, with a very elaborate courtyard that I wouldn't mind having in the middle of my house. We also climbed up a different hill to reach el Castelo do San Jorge. There's remnants of the Moorish castle underneath the Medieval one, and it has an amazing view of Lisbon itself, as well as the coast. The last day we went to a town named Sintra, just 45 minutes outside of Lisbon and a UNESCO world heritage site. The town itself is lovely, but it's known for its castles. We first went to a palace that our hostel recommended, where the palace is only a small part of the attraction. It's surrounded by incredibly elaborate gardens, with stone towers, grottos, fountains. You feel like a character from a fairy tale walking around and it's even more unbelievable because it was all created in the 1800s. But it seems as if you're walking around on these ancient grounds and climbing ruins. It was like an amusement park. You have to see the pictures, although they don't really do it justice. Afterwards, we went to Pena Palace, which is painted about 10 different colors and is overlooking the whole coast of Portugal it feels like. Inside was frustrating because we had to just file through to look at each room for 5 seconds, but the views on the outside more than made up for it. And they also have really good pastry there.
Coming home was another ridiculous day of traveling. We left our hostel at around 8 in the morning and I was back in my room in Bordeaux at 11:30 that night. I flew from Lisbon to Madrid on the same flight as Caroline, but I had a much shorter connection to head back to Paris. So I had to fight everyone to get off the airplane, run through the airport following signs to the shuttle between terminals. I had a little less than an hour originally, to change from Terminal 4, which is not connected to the rest of the airport, to Terminal 1, make it through security and sprint to the gate. But then the flight from Lisbon was late. So I was panicking, sitting on the bus checking my watch obsessively. And then we come to a stop. But the driver isn't letting anyone out so I can't figure out why we are stopping. I look in front of us and I see a big group getting off a tour bus. Now I'm just angry, and don't understand why we're stopping for them. Then I glance at the tour bus sitting next to us and realize who this is. Real Madrid. The soccer team. The whole team, the manager, everyone walked right front of my bus with camera crews running around them. So I almost missed my flight because of Real Madrid. And it would have been worth it. But I made it, because there was no one in the security line and easyJet did not close the gate half an hour before the flight like they said they were going to. Luckily I also made it to Paris in time to pick up my suitcase with all my belongings that I expected to have back in September and then to make my train in plenty of time. It was a very long trip. But it was a very nice break from everything, and made me happier to be back here.
Now I have to start planning things for the rest of this semester, and it's terrifying that I can plan all the way til the end...it's not that far away. However, I wanted to go back to Paris next weekend and I think that there's going to be another strike. Of course there is...
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