First of all, a hearty BONES FESTES and BON NADAL to all, the Christmas lights are on in Barcelona! I am so incredibly happy. I thought I was really wanting to be home, but considering the lighter-than-air ecstasy I am currently experiencing, I think I just wanted it to be Christmas. OH MY GOD. Barcelona looks so good! The "Christmas tree" (it's a palm. I know.) and the nativity set are still in the process of being put up, and the Christmas fair doesn't open until this weekend, but THE LIGHTS ARE ON! I was bummed this morning because I tried to listen to Christmas music on my walk to school, but since it was 55 and extremely sunny, I just couldn't get into the mood. But after my 5:30 class today, I walked out into Placa Catalunya and it was cold, windy, cloudy, and COVERED IN CHRISTMAS LIGHTS, so I knew the time had come. I spent an hour just wandering around the city, listening to Bing Crosby, Johnny Mathis, Perry Como, and of course Elvis (haha), and admiring all the wonderfully tacky and over-the-top decorations. The city is at least twice as bright now. Also! It started to rain on this walk! Barcelona was basically giving me everything I wanted - now if it could transplant my friends, family, and Rimsky's over here, I would never leave.
I had coffee with a girl from my lit class and my Spanish class today to "work" on our presentation, but we ended up just talking about Barcelona for an hour. She lives in a dorm with other Spanish students, and even she said that she can't make friends with them. She says the other students avoid them and clearly don't want to be friends, with the exception of a couple 16 year old boys from southern Spain who want to be more than just their friends. So that made me feel much better about the fact that 13 weeks have passed and I have no Catalan friends, unless you want to count Paula, Gonzalo, Pablo, and their cousins who stop by relatively often, Erik and Kirian. And of course, Carlota and Tomas, but I do prefer having toilet-trained friends.
School is stressing me out hardcore right now. Not so hardcore enough that I am studying much, but just enough to make me want to eat Nutella from the jar while hiding in my bed. Ha, this semester. Oh dear. Next semester will be ROUGH. Anyway. My grades are all riding on the events of the following two weeks, and that is very stressful. There is literally nothing else to balance them out, except in my Spanish class, where I have gotten As on everything so far (woo hoo for Spanish class). This brings up several points I have been wanting to make about school here. Actually, the points are completely unrelated to grades and finals, except that they're about school. One. Students drink beer all the time. You wouldn't think this would be so weird, but it is. Because when I leave my first class at 11 am, there are beer cans literally strewn about the quad-like thing. AT ELEVEN AM. Two. I think I've said this, but everyone speaks Catalan around me. And in my art history class, people give presentations in Catalan all the time. Bilingualism is weird. Three. Everyone smokes. I have seen groups of four or five people literally leaning against the giant (7 feet high), red no-smoking sign. Ummm there were many more, I'm sure. I can't remember right now. Oh! How about that about half the class has their motorcycle helmet on the desk next to them!
Anyway I feel bipolar because I just went from a morning of "sad, I can't even listen to Christmas music because it's so nice out... if only I was at home..." to an evening of "OH MY GOD CHRISTMAS IN BARCELONA I CAN'T EVEN BELIEVE HOW GREAT THIS IS." But since it's ending on a high note, I feel no need to question it.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
Vinho? Obrigado!
Those are the two words of Portuguese I know. There are some others I know by accident, because they're the same as Spanish, but pretty much the only one I ever said was "obrigado." All the time. (It means "thank you")
So Lisbon is amazing! Seriously. There's a castle, a river, the ocean, a bridge that looks suspiciously golden and gate-like (see very small picture),
a boatload of references to the age of Portuguese dominance of the seas, lots of very friendly people, literally acres of Christmas decorations, and a ton of delicious food and wine. Basically a winner in my book. The majority of buildings in Lisbon are covered in colorful ceramic tiles (azulejo), which makes wandering around even more gorgeous than it is in Barcelona. Also, the city is built on seven hills (as you might have heard), which makes it more... shall we say 'heart-healthy' to get around than Barcelona, which only has a gentle slope down to the ocean, and a ferrocarril up the hill. To add to the San Francisco parallels, Lisbon is also covered with trolley tracks, and lots of both antique and new trolleys make up a good portion of the public transportation system. Basically, there wasn't anything about Lisbon I didn't like. Even our hostel was incredible - it had a kitchen we could use to cook meals (if we wanted), delicious breakfast MADE TO ORDER, linens and towels provided, free internet 24 hours a day, 
and the friendliest staff I have seen in any place of business in all of Europe. Plus it was on one of the main pedestrianized roads in the middle of downtown, so it was close to everything! This hostel pretty much had it all. They even had a tv room and a DVD collection. Still, the fresh eggs in the morning were my favorite.
I was traveling with Stacey, a friend of mine from IES, and her friend from high school, who is studying in Paris. They remembered their passports, so they were there on Thursday. But on Friday, when I arrived at the hostel at 8:30 am, we set off to conquer the city. We saw the castle, the remains of which date from the 13th century, which is on top of the tallest hill in Lisbon, and took in a beautiful view of the entire city. From there we happened upon a church from the 12th century, and wandered around the neighborhood of Alfama, just a few steps behind a tour group. Actually, we only followed them for about a block and a half before seeing an adorable old man playing with some dogs and had to stop to admire the picturesque-ness of the situation. We had lunch in a big praça (another
Portuguese word I know, but can't pronounce, but it means plaza) which was decked out with Christmas decorations, just like nearly every street we saw. From there we were pretty beat, myself especially, since I had left my bed in Barcelona at 4:15 that morning, so we napped in our wonderful hostel before heading out. We wandered around Chiado and the Bairro Alto, and found some delicious Italian food for dinner. I had tagliolini with mascarpone and black truffle - I nearly died, it was so epicly amazing - and we tried some Portuguese vinho verde. Although that translates to green wine, it was actually white. Also, in Lisbon, restaurants put out bread bowls, butter, olives, etc, but if you eat from them, they charge you about two euros per person. Um... not cool. It's times like these when I miss America - wonderful America, with overflowing bread bowls, free water without even having to ask for it, and prompt service. Regardless, our dinner was outstanding, and our waiter did give us some free limoncello, which Stacey's friend Lekha had some trouble drinking. It also made it so we spent an extra twenty (or thirty) minutes at the table, but that's the beauty of Europe! That table is yours, no matter how many people feel like waiting for it! We felt like we ought to hit the bars, since Bairro Alto, where we were at the time, is the area to go out in, but it was still early, and so we got ice cream instead. Then we decided we were all too tired anyway, and went back to the hostel where we watched Love Actually and dreamt of Christmas.
Saturday, we went to Belém,
where there is a big monastery built by King Manuel I for himself in the 16th century. It is STUNNING, but I've been to my share of old, religious buildings. Maybe someone else's share as well. I was hoping for some pretender to the Holy Grail or perhaps the body of a king, but I was denied. From there we walked to a huge monument dedicated to Portuguese sailing prowess (Monument to Discoveries) - you can sort of see it in the first picture, and you can definitely see it in the nine others on Photobucket. It's very cool - it has 30 extremely gigantic figures of important explorers and cartographers and such, all clamoring on the sides of a comically undersized ship. I don't know - I have trouble thinking of Portuguese as a huge exploratory force (even though I know they were), because the effect of the Spanish, British, and the French is so much more prominent in the sheer volume of countries they colonized. But I guess Brazil is really huge. From there we went to the Tower of Belém, a tower that is on the river, near the confluence(?) of the river with the Atlantic ocean. It used to be used for defense, and now it is a national monument. It is a really cool building but was literally empty, so it wasn't that exciting. There was a spiral staircase to the top, but it was also the staircase to the bottom, so we had a rough time getting up and then back down through all the foot traffic. From there, I nearly died of hunger, and we had some incredible falafel and batatas fritas (see, I know TONS of Portuguese), before slowly making our way back downtown. We stopped at a covered market that had closed only an hour before, where there was a dance going on upstairs! It was filled with adorable old Portuguese couples. We made it back to town, tried the traditional Portuguese pastéis de nata (cream tart), and decided we couldn't make it to dinner without a nap. Rejuvenated, we headed up to one of the many parks in the city to see the lighting of the city's giant Christmas tree! In fact, it is not a tree at all, but a 72 meter high metal and light contraption which glows green, gold, blue, or multi-colored, and also has animations (of sorts) of doves flying, and of a dove hanging a ribbon or tinsel or something around the tree. It was GREAT. The lighting was accompanied by tons of Christmas music, which was all in English. That was sort of surprising to me, but a wonderful surprise! From there we headed back to Bairro Alto and found one of the restaurants that was suggested on wikitravel (since I now get ALL of my information from wiki sites, apparently). We asked how long the wait would be, since the twelve tables were all full, and she said a table had already paid, so probably ten minutes. We decided to wait, and enjoyed a glass of wine on the street outside as we waited a good forty five minutes, never thinking to change our plans (we had wine! What were we supposed to do, leave our glasses and run?). Dinner was delicious once we were seated though, and I had the special, which was octopus served with roasted potatoes and spinach - and it was amazing. I was nervous about it being octopus, but it was delectable. For dessert, we had chocolate pudding, and then, exhausted from the wait, the meal, and the wonderful conversation, we headed back to the hostel, fighting the crowds of bar-goers (that can't be a word) who were all in the street. Apparently the good bars are too small, so you just order and stand outside all night. Not bad in Lisbon, where it was 65, but that could be rough in other places.
The next morning we once again enjoyed some freshly scrambled eggs, then headed out to do some last minute shopping before heading to the airport. I was glad to be back in Barcelona, but it is much colder than it was in Lisbon, and also I have to go to class here! That dose of Christmas was wonderful though, and I can't wait for them to turn on the lights in Barcelona! All of the Christmas lights are up, but they sit there sadly, just like me, desperate for the Christmas season to be in full swing. Only 27 days until I come home - I'm so happy to be here, but I definitely miss Portland right now. Especially knowing that a lot of my friends are home for Thanksgiving! But I have much more important things to focus on - like the term paper, the presentation, the five written exams, and the oral exam that are all due or taking place between Dec 1 and 18. Oh dear Jesus.
Sorry this one was so long - Lisbon is just THAT awesome.
So Lisbon is amazing! Seriously. There's a castle, a river, the ocean, a bridge that looks suspiciously golden and gate-like (see very small picture),
a boatload of references to the age of Portuguese dominance of the seas, lots of very friendly people, literally acres of Christmas decorations, and a ton of delicious food and wine. Basically a winner in my book. The majority of buildings in Lisbon are covered in colorful ceramic tiles (azulejo), which makes wandering around even more gorgeous than it is in Barcelona. Also, the city is built on seven hills (as you might have heard), which makes it more... shall we say 'heart-healthy' to get around than Barcelona, which only has a gentle slope down to the ocean, and a ferrocarril up the hill. To add to the San Francisco parallels, Lisbon is also covered with trolley tracks, and lots of both antique and new trolleys make up a good portion of the public transportation system. Basically, there wasn't anything about Lisbon I didn't like. Even our hostel was incredible - it had a kitchen we could use to cook meals (if we wanted), delicious breakfast MADE TO ORDER, linens and towels provided, free internet 24 hours a day, 
and the friendliest staff I have seen in any place of business in all of Europe. Plus it was on one of the main pedestrianized roads in the middle of downtown, so it was close to everything! This hostel pretty much had it all. They even had a tv room and a DVD collection. Still, the fresh eggs in the morning were my favorite.I was traveling with Stacey, a friend of mine from IES, and her friend from high school, who is studying in Paris. They remembered their passports, so they were there on Thursday. But on Friday, when I arrived at the hostel at 8:30 am, we set off to conquer the city. We saw the castle, the remains of which date from the 13th century, which is on top of the tallest hill in Lisbon, and took in a beautiful view of the entire city. From there we happened upon a church from the 12th century, and wandered around the neighborhood of Alfama, just a few steps behind a tour group. Actually, we only followed them for about a block and a half before seeing an adorable old man playing with some dogs and had to stop to admire the picturesque-ness of the situation. We had lunch in a big praça (another
Portuguese word I know, but can't pronounce, but it means plaza) which was decked out with Christmas decorations, just like nearly every street we saw. From there we were pretty beat, myself especially, since I had left my bed in Barcelona at 4:15 that morning, so we napped in our wonderful hostel before heading out. We wandered around Chiado and the Bairro Alto, and found some delicious Italian food for dinner. I had tagliolini with mascarpone and black truffle - I nearly died, it was so epicly amazing - and we tried some Portuguese vinho verde. Although that translates to green wine, it was actually white. Also, in Lisbon, restaurants put out bread bowls, butter, olives, etc, but if you eat from them, they charge you about two euros per person. Um... not cool. It's times like these when I miss America - wonderful America, with overflowing bread bowls, free water without even having to ask for it, and prompt service. Regardless, our dinner was outstanding, and our waiter did give us some free limoncello, which Stacey's friend Lekha had some trouble drinking. It also made it so we spent an extra twenty (or thirty) minutes at the table, but that's the beauty of Europe! That table is yours, no matter how many people feel like waiting for it! We felt like we ought to hit the bars, since Bairro Alto, where we were at the time, is the area to go out in, but it was still early, and so we got ice cream instead. Then we decided we were all too tired anyway, and went back to the hostel where we watched Love Actually and dreamt of Christmas.Saturday, we went to Belém,
where there is a big monastery built by King Manuel I for himself in the 16th century. It is STUNNING, but I've been to my share of old, religious buildings. Maybe someone else's share as well. I was hoping for some pretender to the Holy Grail or perhaps the body of a king, but I was denied. From there we walked to a huge monument dedicated to Portuguese sailing prowess (Monument to Discoveries) - you can sort of see it in the first picture, and you can definitely see it in the nine others on Photobucket. It's very cool - it has 30 extremely gigantic figures of important explorers and cartographers and such, all clamoring on the sides of a comically undersized ship. I don't know - I have trouble thinking of Portuguese as a huge exploratory force (even though I know they were), because the effect of the Spanish, British, and the French is so much more prominent in the sheer volume of countries they colonized. But I guess Brazil is really huge. From there we went to the Tower of Belém, a tower that is on the river, near the confluence(?) of the river with the Atlantic ocean. It used to be used for defense, and now it is a national monument. It is a really cool building but was literally empty, so it wasn't that exciting. There was a spiral staircase to the top, but it was also the staircase to the bottom, so we had a rough time getting up and then back down through all the foot traffic. From there, I nearly died of hunger, and we had some incredible falafel and batatas fritas (see, I know TONS of Portuguese), before slowly making our way back downtown. We stopped at a covered market that had closed only an hour before, where there was a dance going on upstairs! It was filled with adorable old Portuguese couples. We made it back to town, tried the traditional Portuguese pastéis de nata (cream tart), and decided we couldn't make it to dinner without a nap. Rejuvenated, we headed up to one of the many parks in the city to see the lighting of the city's giant Christmas tree! In fact, it is not a tree at all, but a 72 meter high metal and light contraption which glows green, gold, blue, or multi-colored, and also has animations (of sorts) of doves flying, and of a dove hanging a ribbon or tinsel or something around the tree. It was GREAT. The lighting was accompanied by tons of Christmas music, which was all in English. That was sort of surprising to me, but a wonderful surprise! From there we headed back to Bairro Alto and found one of the restaurants that was suggested on wikitravel (since I now get ALL of my information from wiki sites, apparently). We asked how long the wait would be, since the twelve tables were all full, and she said a table had already paid, so probably ten minutes. We decided to wait, and enjoyed a glass of wine on the street outside as we waited a good forty five minutes, never thinking to change our plans (we had wine! What were we supposed to do, leave our glasses and run?). Dinner was delicious once we were seated though, and I had the special, which was octopus served with roasted potatoes and spinach - and it was amazing. I was nervous about it being octopus, but it was delectable. For dessert, we had chocolate pudding, and then, exhausted from the wait, the meal, and the wonderful conversation, we headed back to the hostel, fighting the crowds of bar-goers (that can't be a word) who were all in the street. Apparently the good bars are too small, so you just order and stand outside all night. Not bad in Lisbon, where it was 65, but that could be rough in other places.The next morning we once again enjoyed some freshly scrambled eggs, then headed out to do some last minute shopping before heading to the airport. I was glad to be back in Barcelona, but it is much colder than it was in Lisbon, and also I have to go to class here! That dose of Christmas was wonderful though, and I can't wait for them to turn on the lights in Barcelona! All of the Christmas lights are up, but they sit there sadly, just like me, desperate for the Christmas season to be in full swing. Only 27 days until I come home - I'm so happy to be here, but I definitely miss Portland right now. Especially knowing that a lot of my friends are home for Thanksgiving! But I have much more important things to focus on - like the term paper, the presentation, the five written exams, and the oral exam that are all due or taking place between Dec 1 and 18. Oh dear Jesus.
Sorry this one was so long - Lisbon is just THAT awesome.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Irony killed Lindsey
Well, I get to blog tonight because I made the colossal mistake of trying to fly to Portugal without a passport... you would think that if I were to remember any single item, it would be my passport, but no. I am not quite that smart. I think I may have been a little ahead of myself when I said "I am normally a good traveler" - it appears I may just be absent-minded (and a terrible estimator of time, to boot). I got to the airport on time, yes, but I have had too many close calls of late to leave that out of my (abbreviated) list of shortcomings.
ANYWAY I got home and thought I should go to the class I had previously planned to skip in order to go to Lisbon - and found it was canceled because my professor was sick. So if I had actually been on that plane instead of in IES, I wouldn't have missed any class! But no.
Today, Catalan students all across the state walked out of class in order to protest the Bologna Declaration. I had been warned (over and over) by posters, professors, and students, but nothing could prepare me for what was at UPF when I arrived this morning. Mind you, the protest was at the University of Barcelona at noon, and I arrived at UPF at 8:45 to find the doors CHAINED SHUT with students guarding them (two lines of students, in case you somehow get through the first in your desperate attempt to learn). Students who chose to cross the picket line and go to class had to go down a back staircase that leads to the lower floor, and then back up to the main building. Of course, even this entrance was crowded with people handing out flyers (in Catalan) about everything that was wrong with the Bologna Declaration. From what I can tell, it is a plan to regulate European education and make it more similar between countries. A girl in my class said it would increase the cost for Spanish students and increase the workload so that there is more than a simple final exam to determine your grade. There is a different division of higher education in Spain than in other countries, so it would also change degrees and the definitions of the concentrations somehow. My classes were all at about half-attendance (and those of us in my poetry class got a postcard containing one of our professor's poems to reward our dedication). The same girl told me that in her 8:30 class, the protesting students burst into our class, blowing whistles and talking into a megaphone, and wouldn't leave even after complaints from both students and the professor. Anyway, it was really odd, and between my classes there were students walking around the "quad" with a banner, the whistles, and the megaphone, building up a crowd for the march to UB. According to La Vanguardia (a Catalan newspaper), over 4,000 students protested and they tried to walk down the Ramblas but were stopped by the police.
Speaking of La Vanguardia, when Jane was here we were talking about how cool Barcelona is (obviously), and we decided that Barcelona is just undeniably hip. You can't have a city whose newspaper is "The Avant-Garde" without being altogether too cool for your own good. That's why all the cool people leave Madrid and go to Barcelona to create weird art, write, and do other mold-breaking things. And then they went to Paris. But still. This also translates into the Catalan attitude - they're just too cool, and hence are not so friendly. Just a thought.
I also wanted to comment more about London and how awesome it is. I love cities. I want to live in a place where I can go to the theatre all the time, and where there are zillions of different cuisines available, and where I hear four different languages walking down the street. London actually blew my mind because I heard English on the street about as often as I hear it in Barcelona. There were SO many people speaking goodness-knows what else (caught myself there - sort of), and I heard Spanish again, about as often as I hear it on the street here. Of course, both of those are affected by the crazy amounts of tourists and the fact that I mostly overhear Catalan rather than Spanish. Still. I'm going to go ahead and say it - London is cooler than New York. It's cleaner, has better parks, better tea, and nicer people.
Also, the difference between British English and American English is so interesting. I know I have already commented on this (binky v. toddy), but I would like to note some others. For instance, instead of an "exit," there is a "way out." Instead of yielding, the British give way. Instead of a train stopping at x, y, and z; the train calls. Instead of trucks in the road, there are lorries. You get the picture. Anyway, I liked chuckling at each of these individual things every time I saw them, which was often.
Lastly, since this post is so random already, I may as well include the story of my dinner tonight, in which Ana told me that Paula used to be nice and helpful around the house, and now she is sassy, rude and disrespectful. She then kicked Gonzalo out of the room for repeating what Paula had said about nine times, and tried to feed me a fourth serving of meat. When I said I couldn't eat it and Paula took it, Ana yelled - quite strongly I might add - at her for taking what was mine. I told her that I didn't want it, and was glad for Paula to eat it instead, and Ana continued to yell at her! I also learned that many Catalan actors live in our neighborhood, and Paula has seen quite a few while walking less than 4 blocks from our apartment. I also had Chips Ahoy, because Ana bought them for me for my trip (so cute), and then I ate too many and got sick. Also, I felt sick after EVERY meal in London, I kid you not. Every meal except the one we made ourselves. I think this is due to the fact that they use butter in England, and my digestive tract is used to the delicious monounsaturated fats in olive oil. Not actually sick sick, just sort of tummy-rumbling sick. Anyway, tomorrow I am off to Lisbon PASSPORT IN HAND at six am. Good times. See you next week!
ANYWAY I got home and thought I should go to the class I had previously planned to skip in order to go to Lisbon - and found it was canceled because my professor was sick. So if I had actually been on that plane instead of in IES, I wouldn't have missed any class! But no.
Today, Catalan students all across the state walked out of class in order to protest the Bologna Declaration. I had been warned (over and over) by posters, professors, and students, but nothing could prepare me for what was at UPF when I arrived this morning. Mind you, the protest was at the University of Barcelona at noon, and I arrived at UPF at 8:45 to find the doors CHAINED SHUT with students guarding them (two lines of students, in case you somehow get through the first in your desperate attempt to learn). Students who chose to cross the picket line and go to class had to go down a back staircase that leads to the lower floor, and then back up to the main building. Of course, even this entrance was crowded with people handing out flyers (in Catalan) about everything that was wrong with the Bologna Declaration. From what I can tell, it is a plan to regulate European education and make it more similar between countries. A girl in my class said it would increase the cost for Spanish students and increase the workload so that there is more than a simple final exam to determine your grade. There is a different division of higher education in Spain than in other countries, so it would also change degrees and the definitions of the concentrations somehow. My classes were all at about half-attendance (and those of us in my poetry class got a postcard containing one of our professor's poems to reward our dedication). The same girl told me that in her 8:30 class, the protesting students burst into our class, blowing whistles and talking into a megaphone, and wouldn't leave even after complaints from both students and the professor. Anyway, it was really odd, and between my classes there were students walking around the "quad" with a banner, the whistles, and the megaphone, building up a crowd for the march to UB. According to La Vanguardia (a Catalan newspaper), over 4,000 students protested and they tried to walk down the Ramblas but were stopped by the police.
Speaking of La Vanguardia, when Jane was here we were talking about how cool Barcelona is (obviously), and we decided that Barcelona is just undeniably hip. You can't have a city whose newspaper is "The Avant-Garde" without being altogether too cool for your own good. That's why all the cool people leave Madrid and go to Barcelona to create weird art, write, and do other mold-breaking things. And then they went to Paris. But still. This also translates into the Catalan attitude - they're just too cool, and hence are not so friendly. Just a thought.
I also wanted to comment more about London and how awesome it is. I love cities. I want to live in a place where I can go to the theatre all the time, and where there are zillions of different cuisines available, and where I hear four different languages walking down the street. London actually blew my mind because I heard English on the street about as often as I hear it in Barcelona. There were SO many people speaking goodness-knows what else (caught myself there - sort of), and I heard Spanish again, about as often as I hear it on the street here. Of course, both of those are affected by the crazy amounts of tourists and the fact that I mostly overhear Catalan rather than Spanish. Still. I'm going to go ahead and say it - London is cooler than New York. It's cleaner, has better parks, better tea, and nicer people.
Also, the difference between British English and American English is so interesting. I know I have already commented on this (binky v. toddy), but I would like to note some others. For instance, instead of an "exit," there is a "way out." Instead of yielding, the British give way. Instead of a train stopping at x, y, and z; the train calls. Instead of trucks in the road, there are lorries. You get the picture. Anyway, I liked chuckling at each of these individual things every time I saw them, which was often.
Lastly, since this post is so random already, I may as well include the story of my dinner tonight, in which Ana told me that Paula used to be nice and helpful around the house, and now she is sassy, rude and disrespectful. She then kicked Gonzalo out of the room for repeating what Paula had said about nine times, and tried to feed me a fourth serving of meat. When I said I couldn't eat it and Paula took it, Ana yelled - quite strongly I might add - at her for taking what was mine. I told her that I didn't want it, and was glad for Paula to eat it instead, and Ana continued to yell at her! I also learned that many Catalan actors live in our neighborhood, and Paula has seen quite a few while walking less than 4 blocks from our apartment. I also had Chips Ahoy, because Ana bought them for me for my trip (so cute), and then I ate too many and got sick. Also, I felt sick after EVERY meal in London, I kid you not. Every meal except the one we made ourselves. I think this is due to the fact that they use butter in England, and my digestive tract is used to the delicious monounsaturated fats in olive oil. Not actually sick sick, just sort of tummy-rumbling sick. Anyway, tomorrow I am off to Lisbon PASSPORT IN HAND at six am. Good times. See you next week!
Monday, November 17, 2008
With each step I am more certain
SO. Rodgers & Hammerstein are pretty much my personal heroes.
This seemingly random factoid comes to you as a way of introducing my London trip this weekend! On Saturday night, Charlotte and I (on a complete whim) bought tickets to see The Sound of Music in the London Palladium, which I SWEAR is famous somehow. I know it is the first place that the Beatles performed live on TV, but I thought maybe there was more? Anyway, it was magical (except that Captain von Trapp sort of was awful), and completely rekindled my love of all things musical theatre-related.
London!
I left Barcelona on Thursday night, immediately after my Latin Am Lit class. Unfortunately, we went on a field trip to the middle of nowhere, and I only got back to Placa Catalunya in time to catch my bus because I ran ahead of the group on the way home. I also ran across the airport to the check-in gate, where I found that the exceedingly slippery marble floors combined with my exceedingly slick black flats make for a very precarious running situation. And, just like last time I had to run to the airport, my flight was delayed. I sat next to a wonderful woman who is American but has lived in Spain on and off for the last 16 years. She lives with her daughter in a little pueblo on the beach just outside of Barcelona, and works in the city. Her mother, who is still in the states, sends them "love boxes" every month packed with US goodies that they can't get here - so we met when she turned to me and asked if I wanted anything from her giant bag of Halloween candy. Three Snickers, two Mars bars, and one Milky Way later, we were pretty much best friends. I lent her my copy of the Economist (I caved and bought it this past week because it not only had Obama, it also had a special report on Spain), we bonded over how difficult the Catalans are to befriend, and we shared the bond that only two stressed women eating chocolate together can really share.
I got to London about 40 minutes later than expected, and took a train into town from the airport, arriving just minutes after the tube closed. Weird side note: while on the train I was listening to my iPod and it froze at about a minute into "Tiny Dancer." This crushed me. I restarted my iPod, but I was desperate to hear the rest, so I went back to "Tiny Dancer," only to have it freeze again at the exact same moment! So basically I was very depressed because I had a taste of Elton but was DENIED. Anyway, I arrived at Liverpool St, David and Charlotte were there to greet me, and we began the very long and painful experience of finding our hostel. After no less than three buses, at least 40 minutes of waiting for buses, and a good 20 minutes of walking, we arrived at about 2:45 am. Char had already checked us in, and we went to bed - only to be woken again every hour by either someone coming back late or the EPIC snoring man in the bunk across from me.
The next day, David carted us around to all the touristy things, after having a delicious English breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and tea (oh eggs!). We saw Big Ben & Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, a bunch of parks, St. Paul's cathedral, Millennium bridge, the Globe theatre, London bridge, Harrods (where we had afternoon tea), and then we absolutely died and had to have a nap post-tea. It was all cool, but both Char and I had been to London before with our families so neither of us really FREAKED OUT at seeing Big Ben or Buckingham Palace. That night, we made a delicious salad and pasta dinner in David's building (ps I miss chopping things. Weird?), and headed home so we could hopefully fall asleep before snoring man. Unfortunately, snoring man was gone and replaced by NEW snoring man, who snored less frequently but with similar intensity. I fell asleep to the dulcet tones of Amos Lee, and dreamt of Whitman in the spring.
Saturday, we went to Notting Hill, to the Portobello St market. Although I had a mission (candlesticks for Mom!), I was cut short by the impressive price tag on all of the good ones. Antiques are expensive, it seems. The market was incredible though, with basically anything old you could ever want. At the end there were some non-antique stores and food stands, and the entire thing was absolutely amazing. I would venture to say it was the best outdoor market I have ever been to. Definitely the best antique one, because I haven't been to many outdoor antique markets. I bought a gorgeous green & black pashmina, but didn't find the ideal chunky candlesticks I had in mind. I did bullshit my way through a discussion of 1870s style candlesticks, though, with a man asking 400 pounds for the candlesticks I was pretending to still be interested in after seeing the price.
From there we went to SoHo, which is DEFINTELY where I would want to live if I were to have billions of pounds. We wandered a little and had curry for lunch (so good), before discussing where exactly all our money had gone. We walked to Carnaby St, which was apparently THE place for mod people in the 60s (can people be mod? I don't really know how to use that), but now is just obscenely crowded and posh. Or yuppie. However you like. At one end though, is the Palladium, where we were enticed by the Sound of Music, and we bought tickets immediately. We asked about prices and availability, said we'd come back, and turned around before even leaving the building and decided we HAD to go. We killed some time pre-show by heading to Piccadilly Circus and Trafalgar Square, where we had a bit of difficulty getting on the very large and slippery lions. Next we had a beer at a bar where Allison could watch the rugby game, and headed to the theatre, where Allison decided she had to see it as well. The Sound of Music just has a magical power like that. The Mother Superior was SO good, and Maria was good as well, but Georg just failed in line delivery and with his extremely nasal singing. It was the only time I have ever disliked Edelweiss. YEAH. Also, the couple next to us and their very chatty toddler had Chinese takeout and were eating it during the show! So inappropriate! It filled the entire area with the undeniable stench of noodles. After the show, we had Cornish pasties in Covent Gardens and took the tube back to West Kensington before it closed.
Another wonderful night... new snoring man - who by the way when we left that morning had been reading the paper in his bed, surrounded by sleeping people, even though there's a huge, nice lounge that was EMPTY - woke up at 4 am and started getting ready to leave, which involved turning the overhead light on and leaving it on, shaving in the room even though there is a bathroom next door, and generally making altogether too much noise. RUDE.
Sunday, we went to the British Museum, where literally the first thing we saw was the Rosetta stone. Everything else (minus Cleopatra's mummy) was kind of a let down after that. It was amazing but so so huge and we didn't have time to see everything I wanted to see, and we never got to go to the National Gallery, which is similarly huge and amazing. So basically I just want to go back to London. Museums are free there too! What is up with charging for museums? It shouldn't happen. Donations, yes. Admission, no.
We had lunch in Covent Gardens, went back to the hostel for our stuff, and headed back into town where I was told by my cab driver that trains weren't running to Stansted airport because of a breakdown! This turned out to be untrue, but certainly didn't help my Pepto Bismol-levels of stress at the time. Then I was kicked out of security for my contact solution because I didn't have a note from my doctor (airports I have declared and carried it through so far: Amsterdam, Milan, Barcelona), and I bought two little bottles which I was informed were not sterile and not appropriate for contact solution, and went back through. I got to my gate in time for final call, and made it back to Barcelona exhausted and shocked at how cold it was (55 degrees!).
My entire host family is extremely sick, and I have only three weeks until finals and only five weeks left in Spain. All of the Christmas decorations are up in the city but they aren't lit yet, so I am feeling very teased with the prospect of the holidays. Also, I went to Flash-Flash today, a bar/tortilleria where Boom writers like Garcia Marquez used to hang out when they were in Barcelona. It was all white and super mod. I think.
I'm at a weird place, because I am feeling not at all ready to leave Barcelona, but I want it to be Christmas RIGHT NOW. Going to London felt like going half-way home, since everyone spoke English and I had access to a lot more American things I can't get here, and it made me miss home, but I'm so happy to be back in Barcelona. Every time I walk to class I just die of happiness from the beauty of the city and the intense fabulousness of my life.
This seemingly random factoid comes to you as a way of introducing my London trip this weekend! On Saturday night, Charlotte and I (on a complete whim) bought tickets to see The Sound of Music in the London Palladium, which I SWEAR is famous somehow. I know it is the first place that the Beatles performed live on TV, but I thought maybe there was more? Anyway, it was magical (except that Captain von Trapp sort of was awful), and completely rekindled my love of all things musical theatre-related.
London!
I left Barcelona on Thursday night, immediately after my Latin Am Lit class. Unfortunately, we went on a field trip to the middle of nowhere, and I only got back to Placa Catalunya in time to catch my bus because I ran ahead of the group on the way home. I also ran across the airport to the check-in gate, where I found that the exceedingly slippery marble floors combined with my exceedingly slick black flats make for a very precarious running situation. And, just like last time I had to run to the airport, my flight was delayed. I sat next to a wonderful woman who is American but has lived in Spain on and off for the last 16 years. She lives with her daughter in a little pueblo on the beach just outside of Barcelona, and works in the city. Her mother, who is still in the states, sends them "love boxes" every month packed with US goodies that they can't get here - so we met when she turned to me and asked if I wanted anything from her giant bag of Halloween candy. Three Snickers, two Mars bars, and one Milky Way later, we were pretty much best friends. I lent her my copy of the Economist (I caved and bought it this past week because it not only had Obama, it also had a special report on Spain), we bonded over how difficult the Catalans are to befriend, and we shared the bond that only two stressed women eating chocolate together can really share.
I got to London about 40 minutes later than expected, and took a train into town from the airport, arriving just minutes after the tube closed. Weird side note: while on the train I was listening to my iPod and it froze at about a minute into "Tiny Dancer." This crushed me. I restarted my iPod, but I was desperate to hear the rest, so I went back to "Tiny Dancer," only to have it freeze again at the exact same moment! So basically I was very depressed because I had a taste of Elton but was DENIED. Anyway, I arrived at Liverpool St, David and Charlotte were there to greet me, and we began the very long and painful experience of finding our hostel. After no less than three buses, at least 40 minutes of waiting for buses, and a good 20 minutes of walking, we arrived at about 2:45 am. Char had already checked us in, and we went to bed - only to be woken again every hour by either someone coming back late or the EPIC snoring man in the bunk across from me.
The next day, David carted us around to all the touristy things, after having a delicious English breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and tea (oh eggs!). We saw Big Ben & Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, a bunch of parks, St. Paul's cathedral, Millennium bridge, the Globe theatre, London bridge, Harrods (where we had afternoon tea), and then we absolutely died and had to have a nap post-tea. It was all cool, but both Char and I had been to London before with our families so neither of us really FREAKED OUT at seeing Big Ben or Buckingham Palace. That night, we made a delicious salad and pasta dinner in David's building (ps I miss chopping things. Weird?), and headed home so we could hopefully fall asleep before snoring man. Unfortunately, snoring man was gone and replaced by NEW snoring man, who snored less frequently but with similar intensity. I fell asleep to the dulcet tones of Amos Lee, and dreamt of Whitman in the spring.
Saturday, we went to Notting Hill, to the Portobello St market. Although I had a mission (candlesticks for Mom!), I was cut short by the impressive price tag on all of the good ones. Antiques are expensive, it seems. The market was incredible though, with basically anything old you could ever want. At the end there were some non-antique stores and food stands, and the entire thing was absolutely amazing. I would venture to say it was the best outdoor market I have ever been to. Definitely the best antique one, because I haven't been to many outdoor antique markets. I bought a gorgeous green & black pashmina, but didn't find the ideal chunky candlesticks I had in mind. I did bullshit my way through a discussion of 1870s style candlesticks, though, with a man asking 400 pounds for the candlesticks I was pretending to still be interested in after seeing the price.
From there we went to SoHo, which is DEFINTELY where I would want to live if I were to have billions of pounds. We wandered a little and had curry for lunch (so good), before discussing where exactly all our money had gone. We walked to Carnaby St, which was apparently THE place for mod people in the 60s (can people be mod? I don't really know how to use that), but now is just obscenely crowded and posh. Or yuppie. However you like. At one end though, is the Palladium, where we were enticed by the Sound of Music, and we bought tickets immediately. We asked about prices and availability, said we'd come back, and turned around before even leaving the building and decided we HAD to go. We killed some time pre-show by heading to Piccadilly Circus and Trafalgar Square, where we had a bit of difficulty getting on the very large and slippery lions. Next we had a beer at a bar where Allison could watch the rugby game, and headed to the theatre, where Allison decided she had to see it as well. The Sound of Music just has a magical power like that. The Mother Superior was SO good, and Maria was good as well, but Georg just failed in line delivery and with his extremely nasal singing. It was the only time I have ever disliked Edelweiss. YEAH. Also, the couple next to us and their very chatty toddler had Chinese takeout and were eating it during the show! So inappropriate! It filled the entire area with the undeniable stench of noodles. After the show, we had Cornish pasties in Covent Gardens and took the tube back to West Kensington before it closed.
Another wonderful night... new snoring man - who by the way when we left that morning had been reading the paper in his bed, surrounded by sleeping people, even though there's a huge, nice lounge that was EMPTY - woke up at 4 am and started getting ready to leave, which involved turning the overhead light on and leaving it on, shaving in the room even though there is a bathroom next door, and generally making altogether too much noise. RUDE.
Sunday, we went to the British Museum, where literally the first thing we saw was the Rosetta stone. Everything else (minus Cleopatra's mummy) was kind of a let down after that. It was amazing but so so huge and we didn't have time to see everything I wanted to see, and we never got to go to the National Gallery, which is similarly huge and amazing. So basically I just want to go back to London. Museums are free there too! What is up with charging for museums? It shouldn't happen. Donations, yes. Admission, no.
We had lunch in Covent Gardens, went back to the hostel for our stuff, and headed back into town where I was told by my cab driver that trains weren't running to Stansted airport because of a breakdown! This turned out to be untrue, but certainly didn't help my Pepto Bismol-levels of stress at the time. Then I was kicked out of security for my contact solution because I didn't have a note from my doctor (airports I have declared and carried it through so far: Amsterdam, Milan, Barcelona), and I bought two little bottles which I was informed were not sterile and not appropriate for contact solution, and went back through. I got to my gate in time for final call, and made it back to Barcelona exhausted and shocked at how cold it was (55 degrees!).
My entire host family is extremely sick, and I have only three weeks until finals and only five weeks left in Spain. All of the Christmas decorations are up in the city but they aren't lit yet, so I am feeling very teased with the prospect of the holidays. Also, I went to Flash-Flash today, a bar/tortilleria where Boom writers like Garcia Marquez used to hang out when they were in Barcelona. It was all white and super mod. I think.
I'm at a weird place, because I am feeling not at all ready to leave Barcelona, but I want it to be Christmas RIGHT NOW. Going to London felt like going half-way home, since everyone spoke English and I had access to a lot more American things I can't get here, and it made me miss home, but I'm so happy to be back in Barcelona. Every time I walk to class I just die of happiness from the beauty of the city and the intense fabulousness of my life.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Teaching English, the caganer, and CHRISTMAS
So I have now been teaching English to Carlota (age 4) and Tomas (age 5) for two weeks. It is really fun, and I wish we had set it up earlier because I would have loved to do it for much longer. It's really fun, except that I often find that I speak much less Spanish than I think I do, because they start rambling in this odd castellano/castalan mash-up and I just smile and nod. Also, their books are all in British English, so when I read "dummy" for pacifier, I thought to myself, "What a weird word. Please! We all know it's a binky." And then I felt like an idiot. Or when I teach them words like "wastepaper bin" and think I should be teaching them "garbage can." There are other funny ones I can't remember - but dummy v. binky was my favorite. Some were just such weird words I can't even remember them. I'll write them down next time.
Also, playing with toddlers is like playing with a puppy - tone of voice and facial expressions say it all. They don't care what I'm saying or what language I'm saying it in. In fact, they rarely notice at all. The first time I went, all we did was blow up balloons and then let them fly around the room for a full hour. They learned about three words: "Please," "balloon" and "thank you," and those only because I refused to blow up the balloons unless they said please and then thank you, and everytime they let go of the balloon they would yell, "BALLOON!"
This week, Tomas cried for about fifteen minutes when I had to leave. He made such a huge scene and kept demanding "two more minutes! Two more minutes!" I was flattered but also embarrassed because then I left and they had to deal with a screaming monster child.
WARNING: The following may be inappropriate for those who don't like to talk about bowel movements.
Now. I don't know how much y'all (I wish English had a collective "you") know about Christmas in Catalunya, so let me tell you about
my favorite tradition. It's part of the nativity scene, and it's a character that doesn't really appear in the Bible version of Jesus' birth. It's called the caganer - Catalan for "crapper" - and it is a figurine in the nativity of a person pulling down his pants and pooping. It comes complete with a little bit of poop too, in case his stance alone doesn't make it clear. Huge, life-size nativity scenes are apparently traditional (it hasn't made it's appearance yet), and the caganer is apparently a staple in Catalunya (and the Basque Country as well?). Now, the book I read about Barcelona before coming didn't explain this very well, except with the fact that the catalonians are "obsessed" with scatological humor. Wikipedia cites many reasons:
Anyway all this talk of nativity scenes just makes me hungry for CHRISTMAS, which Barcelona is already prepared for (minus the city-wide nativity scene I am told is on its way) - nearly all the streets have lights that say "Bon nadal" and "bones festes" and other things I assume mean "Seasons Greetings." PS How lame is that phrase? Seasons greetings? It's also getting colder - my comforter got upgraded to a big comforter, but it's not really cold enough for this massive mountain of down. So I have to sleep with one leg freezing and the other sweating. I'm sure everyone can relate to this drama. Tonight I'm going to an FC Barca game, which I'm extremely excited about, except for the fact that I have to get up and go to poetry at 9 am tomorrow. AND a bunch of people are already starting their oral exams for my history class, and I am not at ALL prepared for mine yet. It's not for a few weeks, but still.
In better news, my Catalan Thanksgiving dinner, courtesy of the Huerga househould, is only two weeks away - which also means the semester is only three weeks from being over. Not that I want to leave, but I also want home to be here. So... if everyone could just relocate? Thanks.
Also, playing with toddlers is like playing with a puppy - tone of voice and facial expressions say it all. They don't care what I'm saying or what language I'm saying it in. In fact, they rarely notice at all. The first time I went, all we did was blow up balloons and then let them fly around the room for a full hour. They learned about three words: "Please," "balloon" and "thank you," and those only because I refused to blow up the balloons unless they said please and then thank you, and everytime they let go of the balloon they would yell, "BALLOON!"
This week, Tomas cried for about fifteen minutes when I had to leave. He made such a huge scene and kept demanding "two more minutes! Two more minutes!" I was flattered but also embarrassed because then I left and they had to deal with a screaming monster child.
WARNING: The following may be inappropriate for those who don't like to talk about bowel movements.
Now. I don't know how much y'all (I wish English had a collective "you") know about Christmas in Catalunya, so let me tell you about
my favorite tradition. It's part of the nativity scene, and it's a character that doesn't really appear in the Bible version of Jesus' birth. It's called the caganer - Catalan for "crapper" - and it is a figurine in the nativity of a person pulling down his pants and pooping. It comes complete with a little bit of poop too, in case his stance alone doesn't make it clear. Huge, life-size nativity scenes are apparently traditional (it hasn't made it's appearance yet), and the caganer is apparently a staple in Catalunya (and the Basque Country as well?). Now, the book I read about Barcelona before coming didn't explain this very well, except with the fact that the catalonians are "obsessed" with scatological humor. Wikipedia cites many reasons:- Tradition.
- Perceived humor. [Perceived? This shit is hilarious. GET IT? Excuse my language.]
- Finding the Caganer is a fun game, especially for children.
- The Caganer, by creating feces, is fertilizing the Earth. However, this is probably an a posteriori explanation, and few cite this reason for including the Caganer in the Nativity scene.
- The Caganer represents the equality of all people: regardless of status, race, or gender, everyone defecates.
- Increased naturalism of an otherwise archetypal (thus idealised) story, so that it is more believable, taken literally and seriously.
- The idea that God will manifest her/himself when s/he is ready, without regard for whether we human beings are ready or not.
- The caganer reinforces that the infant Jesus is God in human form, with all that being human implies. [Oh HO! Those italics say it ALL]
Anyway all this talk of nativity scenes just makes me hungry for CHRISTMAS, which Barcelona is already prepared for (minus the city-wide nativity scene I am told is on its way) - nearly all the streets have lights that say "Bon nadal" and "bones festes" and other things I assume mean "Seasons Greetings." PS How lame is that phrase? Seasons greetings? It's also getting colder - my comforter got upgraded to a big comforter, but it's not really cold enough for this massive mountain of down. So I have to sleep with one leg freezing and the other sweating. I'm sure everyone can relate to this drama. Tonight I'm going to an FC Barca game, which I'm extremely excited about, except for the fact that I have to get up and go to poetry at 9 am tomorrow. AND a bunch of people are already starting their oral exams for my history class, and I am not at ALL prepared for mine yet. It's not for a few weeks, but still.
In better news, my Catalan Thanksgiving dinner, courtesy of the Huerga househould, is only two weeks away - which also means the semester is only three weeks from being over. Not that I want to leave, but I also want home to be here. So... if everyone could just relocate? Thanks.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Reasons I Will Never Need Prozac.
Besides the fact that I am living a DREAM LIFE; there are so many things that immediately make me extremely happy, that as long as I can maintain a few, I will never need anything else to keep me elated. An abbreviated list:
1. SUNSHINE. I realize that I have no control over this, but even when the sun breaks through the clouds on an otherwise cloudy day, I am instantly euphoric (beware: this post may need the use of a thesaurus in order to not say "happy" a thousand times).
2. Music. Seriously, even if I am in a horrible mood, all I have to do is pull out my ipod and put on Queen and BAM! Good mood.
3. Thinking about President Elect Barack Obama. Granted, this is short-lived, and may not last even through his presidency, but BY GOD I WILL ENJOY IT NOW.
4. Hearing my boots or heels click on pavement.
5. Leaving the house in the morning. I like to see how the day is turning out.
6. Large bodies of water. They're very calming. And the ocean is exactly two blocks from my university. HOW ABOUT THAT.
Anyway this is all a roundabout way of saying that I am just in the most fantastic mood ever.
This weekend, Jane, Natalie, Alex Cassidy, Mel and Charlotte all came to Barcelona from their programs in Madrid, Rome and Florence. It was so much fun to be with not just one person from home but five - with three of Mel's friends from her Rome program as well we became quite the group. But it was just a wonderful dose of Whitman and made me wistful for the days when I will be back... but not really, because when we're back at Whitman we won't make friends with Turkish econ grad students and extremely drunk "Japanese" students in crowded bars at 2 am. He was clearly European, but was dead-set on his Japanese heritage. At first. "Ok, I was lying, I'm actually Korean. But I am adopted. My parents are Pakistani." Anyway the point is, Whitman should probably move to Europe. Barcelona would be good, but anywhere would be better than Walla Walla.
Coming back to classes from fall break was a huge let-down, mostly because I keep realizing how intensely screwed I am for finals. But you know, then Obama was elected, and the sun came out, and I put on my ipod, and walked out of the house in my boots, and wandered down the beach after class, and all of the sudden life was outrageously amazing again.
1. SUNSHINE. I realize that I have no control over this, but even when the sun breaks through the clouds on an otherwise cloudy day, I am instantly euphoric (beware: this post may need the use of a thesaurus in order to not say "happy" a thousand times).
2. Music. Seriously, even if I am in a horrible mood, all I have to do is pull out my ipod and put on Queen and BAM! Good mood.
3. Thinking about President Elect Barack Obama. Granted, this is short-lived, and may not last even through his presidency, but BY GOD I WILL ENJOY IT NOW.
4. Hearing my boots or heels click on pavement.
5. Leaving the house in the morning. I like to see how the day is turning out.
6. Large bodies of water. They're very calming. And the ocean is exactly two blocks from my university. HOW ABOUT THAT.
Anyway this is all a roundabout way of saying that I am just in the most fantastic mood ever.
This weekend, Jane, Natalie, Alex Cassidy, Mel and Charlotte all came to Barcelona from their programs in Madrid, Rome and Florence. It was so much fun to be with not just one person from home but five - with three of Mel's friends from her Rome program as well we became quite the group. But it was just a wonderful dose of Whitman and made me wistful for the days when I will be back... but not really, because when we're back at Whitman we won't make friends with Turkish econ grad students and extremely drunk "Japanese" students in crowded bars at 2 am. He was clearly European, but was dead-set on his Japanese heritage. At first. "Ok, I was lying, I'm actually Korean. But I am adopted. My parents are Pakistani." Anyway the point is, Whitman should probably move to Europe. Barcelona would be good, but anywhere would be better than Walla Walla.
Coming back to classes from fall break was a huge let-down, mostly because I keep realizing how intensely screwed I am for finals. But you know, then Obama was elected, and the sun came out, and I put on my ipod, and walked out of the house in my boots, and wandered down the beach after class, and all of the sudden life was outrageously amazing again.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Election Day
Both the happiest and saddest day of the semester so far - I'm so excited for the direction America is headed in, but so so so depressed that I wasn't there to be part of it. Today is the first time I am actually PROCLAIMING IT to Spain: YEAH I am American!
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Escocia: Extremely Cold.
Ok, picking right back up where I left off, I flew from Hamburg to Glasgow on Monday, arriving in Glasgow International Airport at around 6 pm. There was a jewelery ad in the baggage claim that had a picture of earrings and said, "It's not like you came for the weather." That was to be my first omen. The second omen was when I walked outside. I headed towards the "bus" sign, hoping to find my way to Central Station, and as soon as I walked outside a bus pulled up that said Buchanan Bus Station, via Central Station. I got on, paid, and sat nervously watching through the window so I would be able to tell when we were actually at Central Station. Oddly enough, I didn't already know what it looked like, and this proved to be entirely fruitless. I ended up asking the people in front of me where we were at every stop until they told me Central. It's a good thing someone knew what was going on. I then sat in the freezing cold train station wrapped in as much clothing as I could bear until Cara arrived, and Terry Feeley came to pick us up!
Now. For those of you who don't know the Feeley's, they may in fact be one of the best families I have ever met. Terry drove us to their home in Bearsden, a suburb in north Glasgow (which is eerily lit with green spotlights at night), where Eva had a hot dinner waiting for us. YES. We had butternut squash soup followed by pasta and delicious bread and then rhubarb apple pie and tea for dessert. I knew then that the trip wouldn't be anything short of magical. They pulled out dozens of brochures on Glasgow, Edinburgh, the highlands, Loch Ness, Loch Lomond, and Stirling Castle, and helped us begin to plan the week. Cara and I each had our own room, with what was the greatest continental quilt I have ever encountered in my life on my bed. It seemed to just bounce all of my body heat right back at me - I want to buy one. Except it's not cold enough to really merit one, but it was so great.
The next morning we decided to conquer Glasgow, and Eva drove us into town and helped us get set up on one of those double-decker bus tours. It started off well enough, but we soon realized that 4 degree weather (Celsius, remember) combined with the wind on top of a bus was not a good combination. We didn't move, but we realized we had made a horrible mistake. We saw about half of the tour, marking places we wanted to go back, and then got off at the University of Glasgow. We stopped to go to the bathroom and try to regain feeling in our limbs, then went up to the Hunterian Museum, which is the collection of stuff William Hunter gathered throughout his life. It was really cool, and very crazy. There was one part where he had preserved the bodies of disfigured animals - so weird. There were conjoined twin baby deer, and squirrel things with eight legs, and other weird things like that. From there we went to the Hunterian Gallery, which is the art part, and I made up for the fact that I was missing art history by seeing lots and lots of James Whistler. From there we got back on the bus and saw the second half of the tour, then got off and had lunch at Cafe Gondolfi, a recommendation that came courtesy of Cara's "Top 10: Escocia" travel book. From there we went to the cathedral, the necropolis, and then a medieval house that was built in 1471! It is the oldest house in Glasgow. The cathedral has the tomb of St. Mungo, Glasgow's patron saint, in the bottom. It was all really cool, although the necropolis wasn't as old as I was hoping - they were all from the 1850s. After that we got some tea and found out that all museums close at 5 pm in Glasgow, so we were stuck. We met Francis and Terry at Terry's building, and Francis gave us her keys so we could go home, where we vegged out and watched the Simpsons on their couch for... far too long.
The next day, we took the train to Stirling Castle, which was built in the TWELFTH century. Definitely old enough for me. There are lots of additions from other eras, but still. It was gorgeous and the town of Stirling was really cute too. We found this basement part sort of by accident and it seemed like it could have been a prison, or a tomb, or something. SO COOL. Also, all I could think of the entire time was either Monty Python or Black Adder. That continued through most of the trip. Then we went back to town, had lunch at Martin's cafe, and Terry drove us out to the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond. We drove around to several parts before heading to Lomond Shores, where there is a mall, and we had a cup of coffee. We had to head home though, because Eva had bought HAGGIS for us for dinner! We had haggis with mashed potatoes and turnips (tatties and neeps), and I was shocked to find that it was actually delicious. I just don't want to think about what's actually in it: "sheep's 'pluck' (heart, liver and lungs), minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally boiled in the animal's stomach." BLEH. But it was delicious! Kind of like hot dogs that way. For dessert we had sticky toffee pudding with cream and more tea. I could get used to life at the Feeley's house.
On Thursday we took the train to Edinburgh, where we saw the Edinburgh Castle, the Royal Mile, the National Gallery, and the Royal Museum of Scotland, and we may have climbed Arthur's Seat, or we may have climbed something similar but smaller? Either way, we got an incredible view of Edinburgh until I fell in mud on the way down - so cute. Cara got a good picture. The castle was amazing, but a little more kitsch than Stirling, because it had a bunch of fake recreations - things like mannequins in the rooms and recordings of them talking. The prison was REALLY cool though, and they had three of the original doors, which prisoners had carved their name, the date (1770s!), and sometimes their ship or something else into. Those were really cool. The National Gallery was so so amazing - I could have spent twice as much time in it than we did, but I think Cara was ready to go? And we hit the Royal Museum only an hour before closing, so I missed a ton of cool stuff. But I did see some canister that historians actually know belonged to Bonnie Prince Charlie. How they find out that stuff, I'll never know. For lunch, I had steak and ale pie with mashed potatoes and an incredible beer (I think it was Belhaven Burns Ale... not sure but by god I will find out) and Cara had fish and chips. Delicious. We took the train back into town, but the train to Bearsden was severely delayed, so Terry came out and picked us up! Basically they just took such wonderful care of us all the time. We had a delicious dinner again that night, of minestrone soup, a Tuscan salad, and orange chicken. (Sorry I'm talking more about the food than the sights, but my GOD the food was good) Also, John's daughter Roisin (pronounced Rosh-een) was staying with them that night, and she is almost two and the CUTEST CHILD ALIVE. She kept saying "I see you girls!" when she looked through her little binoculars at Cara or I. So cute I didn't even know what to do with her.
Friday we took a bus tour of the Highlands - it was a small tour, limited to 16 people but there were only 6 of us plus the driver and his wife. It was really cool, and we got to see some incredible views (don't get your hopes up - my camera battery died back in Berlin. I have NO photos of Scotland. I'll get what I can from Cara, but we... have very different photo taking styles?) that we wouldn't have seen any other way, unless we had rented a car. We also saw the sight of the Glencoe Massacre, Loch Ness, and the tallest mountain in the United Kingdom. It was a gorgeous day, so we had magnificent views, and even drove through the snow in one particularly high part of the Highlands. That night the Feeley's were at a wedding reception, and we heated up some delicious leftovers and watched more tv before going to bed.
Saturday, we went back to Glasgow to finish what we had missed on Tuesday, and saw Pollok Park, which is a huge gorgeous park that used to belong to some rich family until they gave it to the city of Glasgow. When they donated it, the city put up the Burrell Collection, another art gallery that was incredible and I could've spent days in, and turned the home into the Pollok House, which has mostly original decorations and tons of art. They were incredible. The park also has lots of Highland cows roaming around, and there's a river that runs behind the gardens of the house, and there are Clydesdales somewhere - but we couldn't find them. It was amazing. From there we went back into the center of town and had lunch, and walked out to the Kelvingrove Art Gallery, a HUGE collection of art and artifacts and tons of other things - again with only an hour to cover it. We literally ran through it, so I "saw" everything but didn't get to enjoy it as much as I would have liked. Also, an interesting fact I noticed is that the museums we went to in both Edinburgh and Glasgow are set up for children to enjoy them as well. There are lots of interactive exhibits, even about things that don't normally cater to children, say, French impressionist exhibits. ALSO the best thing EVER is that all the museums in Glasgow are free. The castles are spendy, though. That night we ordered in some amazing curries and watched The X Factor with Eva and Francis, which is the UK version of American Idol. It was AWESOME, and they get way better sets than American Idol. PLUS they get back up dancers! Hello!
We got to linger in bed on Saturday morning, then had porridge with Roisin before she, Eva, and Frances dropped us at the train station to head back to the airport.
So that was Scotland... I probably left out some details, but you get the jist I'm sure, since that was plenty long. To sum up: it was freezing and I rarely felt my toes between leaving the house in the morning and getting into bed that night, the Feeleys are SO INCREDIBLY NICE, and it's much easier to get around when the spoken language is your native language - even if the accents are tough sometimes.
More pictures are up in Photobucket! Not of Scotland, but there are about 270 of the two and a half days in Berlin. Just think what I could've done with six days in Scotland. Sad.
Now. For those of you who don't know the Feeley's, they may in fact be one of the best families I have ever met. Terry drove us to their home in Bearsden, a suburb in north Glasgow (which is eerily lit with green spotlights at night), where Eva had a hot dinner waiting for us. YES. We had butternut squash soup followed by pasta and delicious bread and then rhubarb apple pie and tea for dessert. I knew then that the trip wouldn't be anything short of magical. They pulled out dozens of brochures on Glasgow, Edinburgh, the highlands, Loch Ness, Loch Lomond, and Stirling Castle, and helped us begin to plan the week. Cara and I each had our own room, with what was the greatest continental quilt I have ever encountered in my life on my bed. It seemed to just bounce all of my body heat right back at me - I want to buy one. Except it's not cold enough to really merit one, but it was so great.
The next morning we decided to conquer Glasgow, and Eva drove us into town and helped us get set up on one of those double-decker bus tours. It started off well enough, but we soon realized that 4 degree weather (Celsius, remember) combined with the wind on top of a bus was not a good combination. We didn't move, but we realized we had made a horrible mistake. We saw about half of the tour, marking places we wanted to go back, and then got off at the University of Glasgow. We stopped to go to the bathroom and try to regain feeling in our limbs, then went up to the Hunterian Museum, which is the collection of stuff William Hunter gathered throughout his life. It was really cool, and very crazy. There was one part where he had preserved the bodies of disfigured animals - so weird. There were conjoined twin baby deer, and squirrel things with eight legs, and other weird things like that. From there we went to the Hunterian Gallery, which is the art part, and I made up for the fact that I was missing art history by seeing lots and lots of James Whistler. From there we got back on the bus and saw the second half of the tour, then got off and had lunch at Cafe Gondolfi, a recommendation that came courtesy of Cara's "Top 10: Escocia" travel book. From there we went to the cathedral, the necropolis, and then a medieval house that was built in 1471! It is the oldest house in Glasgow. The cathedral has the tomb of St. Mungo, Glasgow's patron saint, in the bottom. It was all really cool, although the necropolis wasn't as old as I was hoping - they were all from the 1850s. After that we got some tea and found out that all museums close at 5 pm in Glasgow, so we were stuck. We met Francis and Terry at Terry's building, and Francis gave us her keys so we could go home, where we vegged out and watched the Simpsons on their couch for... far too long.
The next day, we took the train to Stirling Castle, which was built in the TWELFTH century. Definitely old enough for me. There are lots of additions from other eras, but still. It was gorgeous and the town of Stirling was really cute too. We found this basement part sort of by accident and it seemed like it could have been a prison, or a tomb, or something. SO COOL. Also, all I could think of the entire time was either Monty Python or Black Adder. That continued through most of the trip. Then we went back to town, had lunch at Martin's cafe, and Terry drove us out to the bonnie, bonnie banks of Loch Lomond. We drove around to several parts before heading to Lomond Shores, where there is a mall, and we had a cup of coffee. We had to head home though, because Eva had bought HAGGIS for us for dinner! We had haggis with mashed potatoes and turnips (tatties and neeps), and I was shocked to find that it was actually delicious. I just don't want to think about what's actually in it: "sheep's 'pluck' (heart, liver and lungs), minced with onion, oatmeal, suet, spices, and salt, mixed with stock, and traditionally boiled in the animal's stomach." BLEH. But it was delicious! Kind of like hot dogs that way. For dessert we had sticky toffee pudding with cream and more tea. I could get used to life at the Feeley's house.
On Thursday we took the train to Edinburgh, where we saw the Edinburgh Castle, the Royal Mile, the National Gallery, and the Royal Museum of Scotland, and we may have climbed Arthur's Seat, or we may have climbed something similar but smaller? Either way, we got an incredible view of Edinburgh until I fell in mud on the way down - so cute. Cara got a good picture. The castle was amazing, but a little more kitsch than Stirling, because it had a bunch of fake recreations - things like mannequins in the rooms and recordings of them talking. The prison was REALLY cool though, and they had three of the original doors, which prisoners had carved their name, the date (1770s!), and sometimes their ship or something else into. Those were really cool. The National Gallery was so so amazing - I could have spent twice as much time in it than we did, but I think Cara was ready to go? And we hit the Royal Museum only an hour before closing, so I missed a ton of cool stuff. But I did see some canister that historians actually know belonged to Bonnie Prince Charlie. How they find out that stuff, I'll never know. For lunch, I had steak and ale pie with mashed potatoes and an incredible beer (I think it was Belhaven Burns Ale... not sure but by god I will find out) and Cara had fish and chips. Delicious. We took the train back into town, but the train to Bearsden was severely delayed, so Terry came out and picked us up! Basically they just took such wonderful care of us all the time. We had a delicious dinner again that night, of minestrone soup, a Tuscan salad, and orange chicken. (Sorry I'm talking more about the food than the sights, but my GOD the food was good) Also, John's daughter Roisin (pronounced Rosh-een) was staying with them that night, and she is almost two and the CUTEST CHILD ALIVE. She kept saying "I see you girls!" when she looked through her little binoculars at Cara or I. So cute I didn't even know what to do with her.
Friday we took a bus tour of the Highlands - it was a small tour, limited to 16 people but there were only 6 of us plus the driver and his wife. It was really cool, and we got to see some incredible views (don't get your hopes up - my camera battery died back in Berlin. I have NO photos of Scotland. I'll get what I can from Cara, but we... have very different photo taking styles?) that we wouldn't have seen any other way, unless we had rented a car. We also saw the sight of the Glencoe Massacre, Loch Ness, and the tallest mountain in the United Kingdom. It was a gorgeous day, so we had magnificent views, and even drove through the snow in one particularly high part of the Highlands. That night the Feeley's were at a wedding reception, and we heated up some delicious leftovers and watched more tv before going to bed.
Saturday, we went back to Glasgow to finish what we had missed on Tuesday, and saw Pollok Park, which is a huge gorgeous park that used to belong to some rich family until they gave it to the city of Glasgow. When they donated it, the city put up the Burrell Collection, another art gallery that was incredible and I could've spent days in, and turned the home into the Pollok House, which has mostly original decorations and tons of art. They were incredible. The park also has lots of Highland cows roaming around, and there's a river that runs behind the gardens of the house, and there are Clydesdales somewhere - but we couldn't find them. It was amazing. From there we went back into the center of town and had lunch, and walked out to the Kelvingrove Art Gallery, a HUGE collection of art and artifacts and tons of other things - again with only an hour to cover it. We literally ran through it, so I "saw" everything but didn't get to enjoy it as much as I would have liked. Also, an interesting fact I noticed is that the museums we went to in both Edinburgh and Glasgow are set up for children to enjoy them as well. There are lots of interactive exhibits, even about things that don't normally cater to children, say, French impressionist exhibits. ALSO the best thing EVER is that all the museums in Glasgow are free. The castles are spendy, though. That night we ordered in some amazing curries and watched The X Factor with Eva and Francis, which is the UK version of American Idol. It was AWESOME, and they get way better sets than American Idol. PLUS they get back up dancers! Hello!
We got to linger in bed on Saturday morning, then had porridge with Roisin before she, Eva, and Frances dropped us at the train station to head back to the airport.
So that was Scotland... I probably left out some details, but you get the jist I'm sure, since that was plenty long. To sum up: it was freezing and I rarely felt my toes between leaving the house in the morning and getting into bed that night, the Feeleys are SO INCREDIBLY NICE, and it's much easier to get around when the spoken language is your native language - even if the accents are tough sometimes.
More pictures are up in Photobucket! Not of Scotland, but there are about 270 of the two and a half days in Berlin. Just think what I could've done with six days in Scotland. Sad.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Adios a mis padres
WELL. It has been quite a while! I have been roaming Europe, but more on that later: I have so much to say that I will have to divide it up between blog posts. For now, we'll finish the saga of having Mom and Dad here, and then later you can here about my adventures in Scotland!
So, as I said several blog posts ago, the weekend that we were all in Barcelona together, we went to Figueres, Salvador Dali's hometown. We spent the morning in the epic Dali museum (Dad's comments: "So when did they lock him up in the loony bin?"), and the afternoon was split between lunch, a walk in the rain to a castle that was closed, and a train ride back to Barcelona. Figueres was very cute, and the Dali museum was INCREDIBLE, and the castle looked nice from the outside... it was no consolation to learn that it is the largest fortress in Europe after we learned it closed at 3 pm. We had dinner at an iffy restaurant by the cathedral after Mom and I did some more exploring (I had the joy of having rather undercooked shrimp in my risotto), and then I joined them at their hotel for breakfast the next morning before they headed off to Mallorca.
Flash forward now to Friday, when I met them in El Prat to catch a plane to Berlin! Germany started off with a bang when we schlepped out to the car rentals to find our lovely VW awaiting our arrival... complete with NeverLost (which has proved difficult for us in the past - "Please return to the highlighted route." "If possible, make a U-turn." bing bong! You're screwed! - are just some of our favorites). However, we made it to the hotel easily and quickly, and found that it was EPIC. Dad booked it, of course, and we both had "penthouse" junior suites. It was SO GREAT and I was so happy to have a room entirely to myself - I'm not going to lie, I talked to myself a little and sang along with my iPod a lot. We went down to the bar, where we rang up a sizeable tab (in price, not quantity) of mojitos, manhattans, rasmopolitans (best drink EVER) and long island ice teas, and Dad threatened to dance along with the two man band - a drum set and a synthesizer. Luckily, other people were already making fools of themselves so we were able to show him just what it would look like if we were to join in. Then, I took a shower AND dried my hair AT NIGHT, because I can do anything I want when I'm not sharing a living space with other people. I also left the bathroom door open. AND put my iPod in the iHome and fell asleep with James Taylor playing to the WHOLE ROOM.
The next morning, we began our fun-filled adventure with a walk through Tiergarten, the huge park, which brought us to the Brandenburg Gate. The park was AM
AZING because fall is the best season ever (when it isn't spring), and Mom talked to some random German woman on a bench, showing off her impressive German chops. On our way to the gate we stumbled upon a Russian monument to those killed in World War II - although confusing, since it was all in Russian, it was also pretty spectacular. The gate was pretty cool as well - Dad walked through the largest opening, his appropriate path, because in the early days of the gate, only royalty could use the widest one. I don't know if Polish princes counted as royalty in Germany though, Dad. From there we saw the German Parliament, or the Reichstag, and then headed down to the Holocaust memorial. Not before Dad stopped for some Gluwein though, which is hot wine and rum - I will remind you it was maybe 10:30 by this time. In his defense, I think we thought it was hot coffee with rum.
The memorial was incredible - it is (literally) thousands of concrete columny things (they're square. Wikipedia says they are steleae. Refer to the photo for further information) in a grid in a city block, and the ground they're on slopes
up and down. It's wild, you get totally lost, and as Mom commented, there were hundreds of people in it but you would never know - it's silent even when people are yelling, and totally isolating. Creepy. Also ingenious. From there we went to Hitler's bunker. It is not open to the public, and the post declaring where it is was surrounded by British school children, so all I know is that there are apartment buildings over it now. Next we walked to the Topography of Terror, which is a section of the Berlin wall over the remains of some Nazi buildings, and a sort of outdoor museum about it. It was pretty cool, and it was the first part of the wall we saw. It was totally trashed, and didn't look that exciting. From there we walked to Checkpoint Charlie, where we saw some salvaged parts of the wall, signs indicating the entrance to the American sector, and actors posing as soldiers at the actual checkpoint. We headed to the former east side for a delicious lunch of currywurst for Mom and Dad and something schnitzel for me, followed by a big slice of chocolate cake. Reluctantly braving the weather again, we headed up to a square containing a German church, a French church of the exact same design, and an opera house between the two. From THERE (I'm just now realizing how long this day was), we walked to some more old churches, conveniently located next to Humboldt University, where Albert Einstein and the Brothers Grimm taught, and then up to the location of the old palace. It was destroyed several times for several different reasons, and now there's not much left but some bricks in the ground and cement staircases in the air. It was also across from a huge old church (probably has a name) and an art museum (presumably also with a name). We wandered through a little market before conceding defeat and heading back to the hotel for a rest before dinner. Incidentally, here is where I first began to feel feverish - a theme that would continue for a while before leveling off into the worst cold EVER which is still hanging on as I type. 
We went to a wonderful little German restaurant where I had a giant roll of meat, then collapsed into bed.
Sunday, I felt much better after a night of rolling around in my own sweat, and we started off with a trip to an old church which was severely damaged by the war. It has a big tower which is blown out and on either side is the new church which they actually have services in. It was really cool but closed on Sundays... can we discuss how ridiculous that is? Afterward we took a bus up to Sophie Charlotte's Berlin summer house (NOT in fact a castle), where we went on a tour of the old section and Mom and I made up a tour of the new section ("We are now entering the Green Damask room, called such for the green damask used to expressively color the walls. Please, remember not to lean on the door frames or touch the works of art."). Dad ditched us in favor of some apple tart, and Mom and I quickly wandered the grounds. Dad decided the afternoon would be better spent off of his feet (we did cover a lot of ground on Saturday), and we took a cab back towards the hotel. After dropping off Dad, our driver got very chatty and he and Mom started blathering about in German - IN FACT, Mom was so good that he asked her where she had studied German, and he DIDN'T BELIEVE HER when she said the US. He was sure she had studied at the Hague (we considered this a compliment, since Dutch sounds just like German to me), and told her she didn't speak German like most Americans do. She bragged about this for the next 36 hours - it may have continued, but I went to Scotland, so I'll never know. Anyway, he dropped us in town and Mom and I trudged on, successfully taking the metro out to the East Side Gallery, a section of the wall which artists painted murals on and then everyone else decided to be punks and graffitied on top of it. It was amazing, but also supremely disappointing that it was covered in names and dates and graffiti and a surprising number of "Catalunya no es Espana!" declarations. The Catalonians just can't leave a tender moment alone. It was really cool though, and we walked all the way down it and back, with the sun setting somewhere in that time. We went to Alexanderplatz from there and saw the giant TV tower which dominates the skyline from all directions, as well as some more old buildings. We also had bratwurst! Delicious. We walked partway home before deciding a cab would serve us better, and our extremely friendly driver took us by a bunch of landmarks which were lit up with crazy colors and light shows as part of the Festival of Lights. We had dinner in the hotel, and I savored my last night in a room all to myself. (I do have my own room in my host family's home, but the walls are like paper. Just thought I should clarify.)
The next morning, we drove to Hamburg, where I thought I was flying out of, only to discover that I was very, very wrong. After a bit of confusion, we ended up just buying a British Air flight through Heathrow for me, and I had two lovely flights - complete with free drinks and snacks - before arriving in the freezing cold city of Glasgow.
More may have happened... Mom and Dad, let me know if there are any stories I forgot (I already mentioned your awesome German skills TWICE, Mom). Next will be a similarly epic post on Scotland - sorry to keep you waiting, but this has exhausted me enough for today. Not that I didn't spend all day in bed with my cold and a box of tissues, but still - all this writing is really wearing me out.
So, as I said several blog posts ago, the weekend that we were all in Barcelona together, we went to Figueres, Salvador Dali's hometown. We spent the morning in the epic Dali museum (Dad's comments: "So when did they lock him up in the loony bin?"), and the afternoon was split between lunch, a walk in the rain to a castle that was closed, and a train ride back to Barcelona. Figueres was very cute, and the Dali museum was INCREDIBLE, and the castle looked nice from the outside... it was no consolation to learn that it is the largest fortress in Europe after we learned it closed at 3 pm. We had dinner at an iffy restaurant by the cathedral after Mom and I did some more exploring (I had the joy of having rather undercooked shrimp in my risotto), and then I joined them at their hotel for breakfast the next morning before they headed off to Mallorca.
Flash forward now to Friday, when I met them in El Prat to catch a plane to Berlin! Germany started off with a bang when we schlepped out to the car rentals to find our lovely VW awaiting our arrival... complete with NeverLost (which has proved difficult for us in the past - "Please return to the highlighted route." "If possible, make a U-turn." bing bong! You're screwed! - are just some of our favorites). However, we made it to the hotel easily and quickly, and found that it was EPIC. Dad booked it, of course, and we both had "penthouse" junior suites. It was SO GREAT and I was so happy to have a room entirely to myself - I'm not going to lie, I talked to myself a little and sang along with my iPod a lot. We went down to the bar, where we rang up a sizeable tab (in price, not quantity) of mojitos, manhattans, rasmopolitans (best drink EVER) and long island ice teas, and Dad threatened to dance along with the two man band - a drum set and a synthesizer. Luckily, other people were already making fools of themselves so we were able to show him just what it would look like if we were to join in. Then, I took a shower AND dried my hair AT NIGHT, because I can do anything I want when I'm not sharing a living space with other people. I also left the bathroom door open. AND put my iPod in the iHome and fell asleep with James Taylor playing to the WHOLE ROOM.
The next morning, we began our fun-filled adventure with a walk through Tiergarten, the huge park, which brought us to the Brandenburg Gate. The park was AM
AZING because fall is the best season ever (when it isn't spring), and Mom talked to some random German woman on a bench, showing off her impressive German chops. On our way to the gate we stumbled upon a Russian monument to those killed in World War II - although confusing, since it was all in Russian, it was also pretty spectacular. The gate was pretty cool as well - Dad walked through the largest opening, his appropriate path, because in the early days of the gate, only royalty could use the widest one. I don't know if Polish princes counted as royalty in Germany though, Dad. From there we saw the German Parliament, or the Reichstag, and then headed down to the Holocaust memorial. Not before Dad stopped for some Gluwein though, which is hot wine and rum - I will remind you it was maybe 10:30 by this time. In his defense, I think we thought it was hot coffee with rum.The memorial was incredible - it is (literally) thousands of concrete columny things (they're square. Wikipedia says they are steleae. Refer to the photo for further information) in a grid in a city block, and the ground they're on slopes
up and down. It's wild, you get totally lost, and as Mom commented, there were hundreds of people in it but you would never know - it's silent even when people are yelling, and totally isolating. Creepy. Also ingenious. From there we went to Hitler's bunker. It is not open to the public, and the post declaring where it is was surrounded by British school children, so all I know is that there are apartment buildings over it now. Next we walked to the Topography of Terror, which is a section of the Berlin wall over the remains of some Nazi buildings, and a sort of outdoor museum about it. It was pretty cool, and it was the first part of the wall we saw. It was totally trashed, and didn't look that exciting. From there we walked to Checkpoint Charlie, where we saw some salvaged parts of the wall, signs indicating the entrance to the American sector, and actors posing as soldiers at the actual checkpoint. We headed to the former east side for a delicious lunch of currywurst for Mom and Dad and something schnitzel for me, followed by a big slice of chocolate cake. Reluctantly braving the weather again, we headed up to a square containing a German church, a French church of the exact same design, and an opera house between the two. From THERE (I'm just now realizing how long this day was), we walked to some more old churches, conveniently located next to Humboldt University, where Albert Einstein and the Brothers Grimm taught, and then up to the location of the old palace. It was destroyed several times for several different reasons, and now there's not much left but some bricks in the ground and cement staircases in the air. It was also across from a huge old church (probably has a name) and an art museum (presumably also with a name). We wandered through a little market before conceding defeat and heading back to the hotel for a rest before dinner. Incidentally, here is where I first began to feel feverish - a theme that would continue for a while before leveling off into the worst cold EVER which is still hanging on as I type. 
We went to a wonderful little German restaurant where I had a giant roll of meat, then collapsed into bed.Sunday, I felt much better after a night of rolling around in my own sweat, and we started off with a trip to an old church which was severely damaged by the war. It has a big tower which is blown out and on either side is the new church which they actually have services in. It was really cool but closed on Sundays... can we discuss how ridiculous that is? Afterward we took a bus up to Sophie Charlotte's Berlin summer house (NOT in fact a castle), where we went on a tour of the old section and Mom and I made up a tour of the new section ("We are now entering the Green Damask room, called such for the green damask used to expressively color the walls. Please, remember not to lean on the door frames or touch the works of art."). Dad ditched us in favor of some apple tart, and Mom and I quickly wandered the grounds. Dad decided the afternoon would be better spent off of his feet (we did cover a lot of ground on Saturday), and we took a cab back towards the hotel. After dropping off Dad, our driver got very chatty and he and Mom started blathering about in German - IN FACT, Mom was so good that he asked her where she had studied German, and he DIDN'T BELIEVE HER when she said the US. He was sure she had studied at the Hague (we considered this a compliment, since Dutch sounds just like German to me), and told her she didn't speak German like most Americans do. She bragged about this for the next 36 hours - it may have continued, but I went to Scotland, so I'll never know. Anyway, he dropped us in town and Mom and I trudged on, successfully taking the metro out to the East Side Gallery, a section of the wall which artists painted murals on and then everyone else decided to be punks and graffitied on top of it. It was amazing, but also supremely disappointing that it was covered in names and dates and graffiti and a surprising number of "Catalunya no es Espana!" declarations. The Catalonians just can't leave a tender moment alone. It was really cool though, and we walked all the way down it and back, with the sun setting somewhere in that time. We went to Alexanderplatz from there and saw the giant TV tower which dominates the skyline from all directions, as well as some more old buildings. We also had bratwurst! Delicious. We walked partway home before deciding a cab would serve us better, and our extremely friendly driver took us by a bunch of landmarks which were lit up with crazy colors and light shows as part of the Festival of Lights. We had dinner in the hotel, and I savored my last night in a room all to myself. (I do have my own room in my host family's home, but the walls are like paper. Just thought I should clarify.)
The next morning, we drove to Hamburg, where I thought I was flying out of, only to discover that I was very, very wrong. After a bit of confusion, we ended up just buying a British Air flight through Heathrow for me, and I had two lovely flights - complete with free drinks and snacks - before arriving in the freezing cold city of Glasgow.
More may have happened... Mom and Dad, let me know if there are any stories I forgot (I already mentioned your awesome German skills TWICE, Mom). Next will be a similarly epic post on Scotland - sorry to keep you waiting, but this has exhausted me enough for today. Not that I didn't spend all day in bed with my cold and a box of tissues, but still - all this writing is really wearing me out.
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