Queluz? No, QueLOST.

As these things sometimes happen, I sort of accidentally went to the wrong town for my art history visit on Friday.

It was an honest mistake, really. We had been talking about visiting Queluz for a few weeks and then my professor switched the visit the week before. With no email reminder, and no working computer with which to check said nonexistent email reminder, I sort of just forgot we were going to Oeiras and went to Queluz instead. Whoops.

Annina, Sarah, Rene and I wandered through the town, enjoying yet another indescribably beautiful day. The town's main feature is a large Baroque palace nestled at the foot of an undeveloped hill, which basically means that when you stand in front of the palace and look out to the left, you honestly feel like you have been transported into a different century. When we first got off the train, we hopped into a pastelaria to ask for directions to the palace and, surprisingly, did not stop for a pastry. I did see a small sign in the window for "pasteis de cervejas," or "beer pastries." Intriguing, but I found it amazingly easy to pass up that particular opportunity. The instructions we received were "walk past the rotary and then pass 3 more." What he really meant was walk past 4 rotaries and then keep walking down the long tree-lined boulevard, past the old men in their boinas sitting on the ledge until you come into a large empty cobblestoned square and you'll eventually see it, as it's impossible to miss. And it wa. Even though a few times we thought we were probably going the wrong direction, it wasn't until we eventually arrived at the palace that we figured out we were in the wrong town. The first clue was that no one else from our class was there even though we were 20 minutes late. The second clue was when we opened Sarah's notebook and saw the note about going to Oeiras. And the final clue was when we called our professor and explained that we were in Queluz and she said "oh, well you should be in Oeiras."

These incredible detective skills are just one of the many talents I've picked up in Portugal.

After realizing that finding the bus to Oeiras and getting there would consume the better part of an hour, we decided to stay in Queluz. After all, there is a palace there, too. We wandered around the main (empty) square in front of the palace and waltzed into a cafe for a little afternoon caffeine boost. The cafe was decorated in velvet zebra print on the outside, i.e., a complete and utter clash with the baroque palace looming behind us. Sunshine mandated that we sit outdoors and we spent the next twenty minutes squinting, partly at my IceTea which came in a glass with ice. Crazy. We went back to the palace and the lady behind the desk in the ticket office gave us the "Are you back to ask more ridiculous questions about a palace that is not in this city and a teacher that isn't here?" look but we got the last laugh because the tickets were free since we are os estudantes.

I knew a tiny bit about Queluz before we went, mainly that it is the Portuguese attempt at Versailles. I'm not sure exactly what I was expecting but what I saw was amazing.



I've never been to Versailles, but this was gorgeous. Notables: Almost every room had a different chandelier, many of which were quite extravagant. Most ceilings were painted, too. The only room entirely covered in azulejos is a room that I don't think even has a proper name. The sign said that the room was used as a storage space for the glass tubes that protected candles from draughts.

An entire room for glass candle coverings. Wow.

The other reason Queluz is so famous in Portugal is its beautiful gardens. Only a small portion of the gardens are currently open to the public, which is why our field trip was switched in the first place, but the part that is open is stunning. Pictures cannot accurately convey but I'll attempt anyways because words fail me. You get one:

Ok, two:


And finally, one more note on the palace for which I do, thankfully have words: as we wandered through pretending to be art history students (standing back from a painting or tiled wall or piece of furniture and looking thoughtful) and discussed the various Rococo and Baroque and Neoclassic elements etc., we skirted around groups of school children on a field trip. We wandered through one room and lo and behold, there is a man in a powder wig and tights plucking at some kind of instrument. Again, what century is this?! Giggling and asking in Portuguese if we're allowed to take pictures, we skip through to the next room, a royal receiving room where even more of the anomalous 18th century nobles are dancing as part of a performance for the little Portuguese kiddos. We plopped down on the floor with the school groups and stifled our laughter and amazement as yet another little unexpected moment completely made my afternoon. I've seen plenty of reenactments in museums before, but for whatever reason these actors seemed to add to the authenticity of the scene rather than seriously detract from it.

After making our way through the palace and the gardens, we attempted a different route, through the town rather than around it, to get back to the train station. Even in the main part of town, Queluz is a quiet, intimate place. The locals were incredibly friendly, smiling and waving on the street and not hesitating to help us when we asked for directions. A town right out of a fairy tale. We stopped for hot popcorn and hot castanhos (roasted chestnuts) from street vendors, making friends along the way. The Portuguese are just so friendly. It's wonderful to feel welcomed.


Queluz was one of the better mistakes I've made while I've been here. We get lost all the time on our way to art history visits and we do get to see a lot of the city that way. But there was something about ending up in Queluz on a gorgeous quiet Friday afternoon that just made it special. Maybe it was the sense of freedom that the weekend brings, or the guys in the car that thought we were taking pictures of them so they started waving, or the lush green rolling hills rising gently above the pink palace...it was so utterly peaceful and relaxed. A truly wonderful afternoon.

Before I move on to the rest of my weekend, I have to backtrack to embellish my descriptions of the Palace of Ajuda, if only because it was the coming out party of my newly repaired camera and my return to being trigger-happy. Interesting trivia: After the earthquake, King Jose was terrified to sleep in a stone building so he moved the entire court to a royal complex at Ajuda where they all lived in tents. For a time, the Portuguese monarchy lived in and operated from a set of tents and a single coach where the Marques de Pombal organized the rebuilding of the city. This strikes me as so utterly Portuguese. Running a country from a tent in the wake of major disaster... They were all about business; they didn't waste time building a palace first and then building the city. Yet a tent is such a temporary structure and is completely incompatible with the grand palaces of 18th century Europe. How contradictory, and how perfectly Portuguese.

Anyways, Ajuda was originally supposed to be even bigger than it actually is but they ran out of money to complete it. And when I say ran out of money, they literally ran dry and just stopped wherever they were.





(Oops)


And the library. You can tell I'm sneaking this picture because I was half-hiding the camera behind the bookshelf in the bottom of the frame.

One final thought: when I went to drop off my computer the other day I was so excited to have discovered the bus that goes directly to the front door of the computer repair shop that I didn't even pay attention to which direction the bus was going until after I ended up on an unfamiliar highway. After getting off the highway, the street curved and the side of the highway was covered in a 15m high rainbow of azulejos. Stunning. Even the highways are covered in tiles here. I don't think I could ever get sick of little surprises like this. Every single day is full of them and it's one of the many, many things I love about living in Lisbon.

Oh, and it's Christmastime in the city. The malls are completely decked out for the holidays without Thanksgiving to discourage them from starting in November. (Actually, the department store near my dorm started decorating in October but that's another post for another time)


The closest thing to snow this city ever experiences, considering that the day I took this picture in mid-November it was 21 degrees Celsius. (approximately 69 degrees Fahrenheit)

TCHAU!

TexMex...sort of.

I am a full week behind in posting so it's back to bullet form:

• Sunday afternoon, in a celebration of my new freedom after 2 terribly busy weeks, I went to the Gulbenkian garden to read. I sat in the grass and eventually took off my shoes, digging my toes into the cool carpet beneath my feet. I took off my sweater, getting some sun on my bare arms, and I munched on a pear while I wished my sunglasses weren't broken. Did I mention it's November? I think it got up to somewhere in the 70s that afternoon, hotter in the sun. I was so grateful for not having to stay inside and work, no matter how short-lived that respite would be. It's a sin to pass up such beautiful fall weather.
  
• Sunday was my roommate's birthday so after convincing her not to buy her own birthday cake, we took her to dinner and threw her a surprise party. We went to a Mexican restaurant in Belem overlooking the river. It was dark, and I was amazed to see that even on the edge of the river, there aren't a whole lot of lights along the banks. It felt very peaceful; still in the city, yet removed from the hustle and bustle. My first fajitas in 3 months were not quite up to TexMex par, but they were still delicious. You could definitely tell that it was Mexican food being cooked in Portugal: the beef was decidedly unmarinated. The Portuguese don't really believe in sauces or flavoring when it comes to carne...Despite the obvious differences, the food was really good and it was a nice taste of home. Guacamole tastes that much better when you haven't had it in months. Our waiter was Brazilian and I got really excited when I could distinguish the different accent. Ana taught us how to make cat ears out of napkins so that's how we passed most of the night when we weren't eating or singing happy birthday. Upon return to the dorm we hurried to blow up the balloons and light the candles without Tati noticing and then we told her to come to the study room where we blew whistles and woke up most of the 2nd floor. Whoops.
  
• Monday evening we went to a reception at City Hall for International Students Day. The room in which the reception was being held was super fancy, a Baroque bubble in downtown. Red velvet curtains sweeping 30ft down from the ceiling, which was painted and gilded with portraits of famous lisboetas, marble columns, chandeliers...although the mayor spoke mostly Portuguese, he did address us briefly in English. After that, Sarah and I retreated through the crowd to get some air in the foyer, whose ceiling is painted to look like it's carved. That's when we found the food. Normally, when I think "reception," I think non-messy finger food like cheese and crackers, generic chocolate chip cookies and soft drinks, maybe fruit juice. Apparently when the Portuguese think student reception, they think port wine and savoury pastries. If I ate shrimp, I could've made a meal out of this reception. The fancy room opened up to a balcony overlooking the square in front of City Hall, where my friends spent much of the evening looking at the stars and enjoying ourselves. Then a DJ started playing in the big room so we hopped back inside to dance. It was pretty cool showing up to what I thought would be a generic reception and staying to dance. Apparently Lisbon really wants to show its international students a good time. I don't have the vocabulary to tell the mayor that he really doesn't have to put on a reception for us to enjoy this beautiful city.
  
• Wednesday we went to the Palacio de Ajuda for my art history class. It's a massive neoclassic palace built after the earthquake with one of the most complex and beautiful entryways. The entry is a set of 2 round statue galleries, full of statues personifying the qualities of the king. In my opinion, it was a bit vain and contradictory, decorating your palace with statues claiming your humility and generosity to the people, while you build yourself a massive palace. The interior has been completely modernized to house the Ministry of Cultural Affairs, but the library is intact. The two stories are stacked floor to ceiling with books in peeling covers. To access the higher shelves you have to climb a rickety 15ft ladder. One of the librarians was wearing a white lab coat and brushing the pages of an extremely large, old volume. The paper crinkled as she steadily turned page after page, looking for stray eyelashes and dust. It literally felt like walking into another century. My professor gave me the "I'm disappointed that you'd be so crass as to take pictures in such a sacred place" look, but I snuck in a few anyways. I had just gotten my camera back less than 24 hours before. After a month of not being able to take pictures, I wasn't about to pass up such a beautiful place. (When I get my computer back I will post said pictures so you can fully understand the fairy tale quality of this library)
• I used the Gulbenkian library for the first time this week. Talk about complicated. It's free to get a library card but the online registration is entirely in Portuguese so it took a few minutes. After filling out the form on the computer, you go into the library itself and into this tiny Reference office. There, you sit with one of the librarians, for lack of a better word, where they go over your registration form and print you off your library card. Once you have your library card, you go back to the computer room, where you scan in your barcode and type in a password. Then you can search. Once a list comes up with your hits, you click on each individual link to see if it's what you need. If it is, you click another link which takes you to another page that says "are you sure you want this item?" You click yes, and a little machine prints off a receipt with a number on it. Then you wait for that number to be called up on the screens around the room and only then can you finally retrieve your materials. I can understand the desire to not have students browsing through the collections making a mess of things, but it's a whole lot of procedure. The library has huge windows looking out onto the garden. On the one hand, it's nice that I can still enjoy the beautiful day from inside. On the other hand, it's torture to have to be inside researching while such a beautiful day beckons from the outside. I guess I can't complain too much. It's November and warm enough for short sleeves.

My computer is waiting to be picked up at the repair shop so once I pick it up tomorrow, I will have both my camera and my computer and I promise I will post some pictures of the weather I can't help but brag about. Until then, tchau!

The most important fire dancers in Tomar

After our adventurous Thursday evening, our sleep deprived Friday morning left much to be desired. We stumbled to school in a caffeine-less daze to catch the bus to Tomar for a field trip with our Portuguese class. Just for fun, I have decided to do this post in acrostic form. Sorry for making you endure my lameness.

Templar castle
Ohmygosh is it lunchtime yet? Oh. It's cantina food.
Medieval synagogue and museums that nobody understands
As ruas mais importantes em Tomar
Ravage pastry shop, return to Lisbon

There are 4 Portuguese classes between the Americans and the Erasmus students so the field trip comprised a wide variety of students that I've never met before. The trip was optional (thank you CIEE for paying!) so that produced an even wider variety of students, mainly those who are able to wake up at 8 on a Friday morning for a whole day of touring. It was an utterly brilliant day, the sky the deepest shade of blue and the air crisp and cool as any perfect fall morning should be. Our trip on the highway, instead of the train, gave me a cool new perspective on the surroundings of Lisbon and the Portuguese countryside. It's amazing to watch the scenery change from distinctly urban and industrial to more rural, less dense and more natural. I don't think I'll ever get sick of seeing the country fly by through the window.

Our first stop was the Templar castle and the Convento do Cristo. The castle is remarkably well-preserved and even the archer slits are carved in the shape of the Templar cross. The municipal part of the convent is in ruins but everything else, including the aqueduct, is well-preserved. The church itself is sheathed in gold and painting. The exterior of the church has a famous window, carved to represent Portuguese exploration, God's glory and Portugal's relationship to the sea. Our guide spoke Portuguese and only translated when we asked so it was a great opportunity to practice. I was really surprised when I realized I actually understood what she was talking about. My ability to translate faded a bit as the 4 hours of sleep kicked in but it was still nice to feel competent. The grounds bursted with citrus trees, the oranges looking so promising. Daniel informed me that the lemon tree originated in Portugal. I don't know if that's true but once he told me I noticed that there really is an abundance of citrus trees here. Beautiful.

In true Portuguese fashion, we didn't leave for lunch until almost an hour after we were supposed to be there. Whoops. Tomar has a Polytechnic university so we ate cantina food there. It was kind of neat to experience a different university and a different cantina, even just to experience a little slice of regular life outside of Lisbon. Downside: cantina food is the same just about everywhere thanks to government subsidies. This cantina has a pastelaria built in, so we were able to replace our chemical pudding with Magnum bars.

After lunch, as we were nearly 2 hours behind schedule, our professors sat on the patio drinking coffee while we all sat out and enjoyed the beautiful day. We eventually managed to leave and we headed for the Tomar synagogue, a medieval synagogue that had once been one of the most important in the entire country. The original building still exists although the interior, sadly, has been mostly plastered over the preserve it. I'm all for preserving, but it sort of ruined the effect. The stone pillars in the center of the tiny building were the only exposed original stone. Oh well. The man who gave us our "tour" of the synagogue was a Polish Jew and he spoke Portuguese to us. I had a hard time paying attention to his descriptions of the Torah and Shabbat but afterwards I helped explain things to the non-Jewish students. The synagogue is no longer functioning, as there are only 2 Jewish families in Tomar, not even enough for a minyon. (10 men) Yet this man and his wife still continue to keep alive the spirit of a community that the government once tried to destroy. 500 years later, the Tomar synagogue still stands.

We then headed to an art museum of some sort, but the all-Portuguese explanation of the 17 works of art completely lost me--as did the abstract paintings of what I think was supposed to be a tree in different phases of its life. I enjoyed much more playing in the plaza, running at mobs of pigeons and smelling the chrysanthemums that overflowed in vendors' pots. A small tourist tram/bus was idling in the plaza and a (smart!) suggestion by one of the students to our professor landed all of us squeezed into leather seats. I love how utterly Portuguese our Portuguese professors are. One mention of needing coffee, and we stop for pastries and coffee. One mention of riding the tram instead of going to another museum, and we are on the tram. Doesn't take much convincing...

The tram ride took us through "historic" Tomar, which wasn't really a historic tour at all. Our very enthusiastic tram driver pointed out nearly everything, claiming it was "the most important library in Tomar!" or "the best public park in Tomar!" or "The most important gas station in Tomar!" It took us a few minutes to notice it but once we did we couldn't get enough of it. The most important hotel in Tomar, the most important streets in Tomar...as ruas mais importantes em Tomar! In between his enthusiastic tour guide comments, traditional Portuguese and Iberian music played over the intercom and we had a spontaneous dance party in compartment 2. The residents of Tomar seemed amused at the 50 of us squeezed into the train and we waved at everyone, most of them waving back. I would say that's the nice thing about small towns, except that generally people are like that here in Lisbon too.

After our tour, which I think was much more educational than another art museum and the Matchstick Museum (???), which had been on the schedule, we were given a half hour of free time in which we decided to ravage a pastelaria. I know I probably spend too much time raving about pastries but I just have to mention once again how every town seems to have its own signature pastry or pastries that just aren't as common in Lisbon, whereas Lisbon has some that you don't see much outside of the city. Neat. Delicious.

On our way back to the bus we walked past a couple juggling flaming batons. One of them looked utterly bored. I feel so lucky to have stumbled upon what were clearly the most important fire dancers of the town.

Worth the early wake-up. A beautiful day. That night I went to a friend's house party in Santos, a neighborhood along the river. I got really excited because once we finally found the apartment complex, it was a building that I have passed before and taken pictures of because it has beautiful azulejos. The most important coincidence in Lisbon.

RIP

Even though I have unfinished posts waiting to be finished and posted, I have to interrupt my own train of thought. It is with great sadness that I inform you of the passing of my computer, MacDaddy. He died last night around 1:30 am after a brief struggle with being permanently frozen. Instead of resting in peace, I would like him to return quickly from the computer repair shop. Quickly, and cheaply. Even though the camera guy a few weeks ago signed off on my camera as under warranty (i.e., free repair), I doubt I'll be able to pull off that kind of luck twice, even in a city like Lisbon where putting something under warranty is as simple as smiling at the man behind the counter who says "Sure, I'll sign off on this. Why not?"

It was one of those knock on wood kind of moments. Last week I realized that I hadn't backed up my computer in a while so I went through and backed up everything, including my 5,000 photos and all of my work for my classes here up through that point. Then, I had the busiest week of my semester in which I wrote 2 papers and 1 presentation and I didn't back up this past weekend. And then my computer crashes, almost as if the act of backing up was inviting the hard drive to crash.

So bear with me, dear readers, as it will be difficult to stay on track with my portublog while I'm confined to sharing computers in the dorm's computer lab. If there is a bright side to all of this, other than the opportunity to practice my Portuguese as I run around town to heal MacDaddy, it is that I now have plenty of time to sleep since I won't have my computer to distract me late at night. This is truly fantastic, as my last month here promises to be exhausting from trying to squeeze in as much as possible.

Like tonight for instance. Today is Internation Student Day in Lisbon (and the international community? I don't know. Maybe just in Lisbon...) Anyways, we went to a reception for Erasmus students at City Hall. They spoke a lot of Portuguese for which we politely clapped and I spent a lot of time making faces/smiling as the video cameras swept around the crowd. Then we were endowed with refreshments in the form of port wine and pastries. Have I mentioned how much I love Portugal? This would be an appropriate time. I will save my descriptions of the festa for later when I'm not so tired and not hurrying to return a friend's borrowed laptop. They are coming, though. I promise. After all, it's not everyday that you get to go to a fancy Monday evening soiree with dancing and wine in Lisbon, Portugal. I can't pass up an opportunity to gloat a tiny bit.

So dearest MacDaddy, best wishes for a speedy return from the dead. And dearest readers, thank you for your understanding in this dark time. If you should desire to contact me, I have limited email access so if you don't hear back from me, just get on the next flight and we can talk when you get here.

And then I found one euro and twenty centimos

Thursday night after burying our faces in delicious pizza, something I've been craving for weeks, we headed to the Thursday night Erasmus party. It was being held at a new bar (new for Erasmus) and we thought it would be cool to expand our nightlife beyond Bairro Alto. The bar had a sort of movie theme going on, with director's clapboards and movie posters lining the walls. Movie posters of...Muppets. Reservoir Frogs, MIB (Muppets in Black), Kill Swill...imagine Miss Piggy wearing Uma Thurman's yellow tracksuit. Pretty classy. The only thing that made the place more disturbing was the presence of candles.

Candles. Open flames. In a bar where people are dancing.

My very first thought upon entering the bar and seeing the candles is "Well that's an accident waiting to happen." And sure enough, a little while into the party Gustavo yanked me away from the dance floor and said "One of the candles got knocked over. We need to get out of here." Awesome. Who the #@%! puts candles next to a dance floor?! That isn't just Portuguese apathy; that's plain stupidity. The bar owner comes pushing his way through the crowd while we looked for the rest of our friends. A circle had formed in the middle of the room with everybody backing away and I just kept thinking to myself that this is exactly how people die in nightclubs. Fires that lead to panic. Maybe a little dramatic, sure, but I was not about to take chances because somebody else was dumb enough to create such an obvious fire hazard.

Before the danger, the bar actually played a really good selection of music including a lot of 50s and swing music. Clearly there is no place better than a crowded dance floor surrounded by candles to attempt legitimate swing dancing. A group of Portuguese boys spent most of the time shouting at each other across the 10 feet of floor to the point where the music became more of a heavy metal/screaming swing kind of beat. I'm no expert, but I think this is a terrible combination. They also played Bon Jovi. I have never heard such an enthusiastic reception to "It's my Life" The Portuguese boys knew the words better than I did.

At one point before we left, Gustavo and I were trying to kick the glass pieces of a broken ashtray off the dance floor so as to avoid other possible calamities. Collectively between us, we found 1 euro and 20 centimos during this effort. Lesson to be learned? Sometimes if you pick up other people's messes you won't have to pay as much for your cab. Also, the Portuguese are apparently rather lax when it comes to fire safety and other hazards. This was enough of a reason to leave the creepy Muppet/fire hazard bar; the fact that we had a field trip commencing in five hours was another semi-major factor in our decision to go home.

All in all, a pretty typical Thursday night in Portugal.

Bones, beer and boinas

The sun has been particularly bright the past few days in Lisbon. I feel a noticeable difference when I walk out of the shade into the sun, which now begins setting at 5 pm forcing me to watch the sunset instead of pay attention in my 4:00 class. That's the curse of huge windows and the palm trees just outside of them. How is anybody supposed to focus?

It's been so sunny and beautiful that I have to keep reminding myself that it is November. Otherwise, I get carried away daydreaming; "If the weather stays this nice 'til Friday, we could go to the beach!" Alas, it's not that warm. The sky is a blinding shade of the most brilliant blue though. I had a conversation with a friend yesterday about what color the sky would be called if it were made into a Crayola crayon. But the color of the Lisbon sky can't be contained; I don't think any paint swatch could ever accurately capture the essence of this radiant blue. The relative lack of pollution in the city makes this sky the clearest I've ever seen. The sky, light and fresh air are mildly intoxicating. It's so hard to pull myself out of that reverie...

But I digress. The purpose of this post is to record, more for my memory than anything else, a few things I forgot to mention...

• In Evora, we visited the Bone Chapel, a rather large, crypt-like chapel inside a church covered from floor to ceiling in human bones and skulls taken from a local graveyard hundreds of years ago. Lovely.
• A few weeks ago there was a taxi pulled up to the curb waiting in a right-turn lane. The cab blocked most of the turn lane, which didn't require a light, and all the cars behind him were honking like crazy because they couldn't move. Luckily, people don't mind driving on the sidewalk here and they could inch around him over the curb. As each car slowly pulled around, the driver stopped, rolled down the window and yelled at the cab driver. Every single car that passed did this. As if the first time, second time...sixth time...wasn't enough to give the cab driver the idea. I laughed out loud. Honestly-they were all honking so they could move and instead of taking the alternate route (sidewalk) and just continuing, they further blocked traffic by stopping individually to yell at the guy. Ah, Portugal.
• Last night, Wednesday, my dorm threw a party. We have a student commission in charge of the social life at the dorm and they are the official body for complaints, requests, etc. Anything that is not a maintenance problem goes through the student commission. Last night they turned the rec room into a dance floor with strobe lights, disco balls, a full DJ setup and a bar with beer on tap. They also auctioned off freshmen to be "slaves" for the upperclassmen. Tell me: where in the US would you have a dorm throwing an official party, serving alcohol and having a DJ spinning until 5 in the morning on a Wednesday? Again, I must reiterate: when do people ever sleep in this city?
  
• I've mentioned plenty of times how time seems to work differently here, one of the many things contributing to the feeling that it's not always the 21st century here. Recently, I have fallen in love with a trend I've noticed pretty much everywhere I've been in the country. The old men here all wear these floppy hats called boinas. These men move slower than the normal slow pace of the lisboetas, which is already pretty slow. I often see them sitting on benches just existing, enjoying the world and the beautiful day. They sit contentedly with their hands crossed over their bellies, boinas flopping down across their face. It's a sight from another era, one in which people didn't leave the house without a hat and one without noise pollution, email, PDAs, demanding schedules...I envy these men more than anything else because of the sheer calmness they exude. Always so content. I would love to get myself a boina but I don't think I could ever pull it off. Plus, it would ruin the authenticity of the hat and what it represents. I wouldn't want to do anything to ruin the authenticity of Portugal, which is for the most part blessedly untouched by the tourism bug that tends to destroy the true feel of a place.
  
• Evora is a small, quiet place. We had a lot of time to kill when we arrived at the train station to catch our train back to Lisbon and there were no other trains scheduled for the evening so we goofed off on the tracks, testing our strength in pushing the engine (unsuccessful), testing the limit of how much we could climb on the outside of the train without getting yelled at (successful) and running across the tracks to play next to the abandoned train cars. The small water tower bearing the town's name was just a hop skip away so we hopped and skipped over the iron ladder to ascend the tower and look into the sun as it set over the countryside. This, too, reminded me of another era. Minus the digital camera, we could've been in the 1950s playing along train tracks like you see in the movies. Except that it was a hundred times more exhilarating than in the movies because I got to experience it for real.
• I went to Elephant Walk today for lunch and spoke Portuguese with Rodrigo for 20 minutes. (Rodrigo is our juice-and-tosta-maker extraordinaire) I might actually come home with a basic knowledge of the Portuguese language.
  

Tomorrow we are going on a day trip to Tomar to see a Templar cathedral and my camera has still not returned from Coimbra, so pictures are pending indefinitely. After two really tough weeks of papers, tests and presentations, I am really looking forward to the weekend.

Marijuana or chopsticks?

Last week was my busiest week yet and this upcoming week is going to be even worse, so naturally this weekend was a great opportunity to do everything except work. Don't get me wrong--I had fully planned on staying inside the whole weekend and working on my papers and getting a lot of sleep; the weekend just didn't go quite as planned, the pleasant result of living spontaneously and seizing the day everyday in Portugal.

Thursday evening I relaxed a bit and then opened my computer to start working on my racism paper for my anthropology class. I had planned to stay in, maybe watch a movie and sleep, but my friends had other plans in mind. We went to this club near the river called The Loft that played weird house music and had a huge dance floor. A huge...empty...dance floor. So sad. It was still a fun night and it was cool to check out a new place in a different part of the city. Also, the entrance was lit up in hot pink, which of course I thought was awesome. Our late night caused me to sleep in and I woke up on Friday with a huge to-do list staring me in the face. At one point I decided to go for a walk because it was a beautiful day outside and I had a great adventure with my iPod around my neighborhood. It's so easy to forget that other people have work and school on Fridays, not like the Portuguese ever seem to go to work in the first place but whatever. Friday evening we tried to go to a 9:30 showing of the new 007 movie but couldn't get tickets until the midnight show. If you're ever going to see a midnight movie, go to one like James Bond. It'll keep you awake. And since the movie hasn't come out in the US yet, I'll take this opportunity to tell you everything that happens....

Just kidding.

Saturday the real fun began. We woke up early to go to the flea market, a neat little discovery by Annia last week. To get there we had to take the trolley up the hill past the castle to the National Pantheon. Basically, this means we were in a beautiful location overlooking some beautiful architecture and spectacular views of the river. The flea market is overwhelming. Near the entrance, you have legitimate vendors selling handcrafted jewelry, scarves, accessories and the like. As you wander further into the market, you have more and more vendors with a blanket full of CRAP. Honestly. It's like a giant yard sale. These people dig through their houses and pull out everything they don't want. And there are hundreds of these vendors. Buttons, old calculators, light switches, dolls--often in pieces--bouncy balls, shoes that have been worn through, napkins...everything. My favorite sightings included a 4-ft carved giraffe statue, a female mannequin in 2 pieces that we later saw someone buy, an electric typewriter that didn't work, and a giant rusted propeller. At the far end of the market Sarah and I spotted a fondue set. We asked (in portuguese!) how much the man wanted, and he said 10 euros. We responded "Nao, obrigada" and then he said "5 euros!" so we said "sure!" Our 5 euro flea market fondue set. Pretty nifty. We have no idea how to light it and thus use it, but that was not a consideration at the time. We also bought a few scarves at 2 euros a piece. A successful day at the market. I think I will go back every Saturday from now on just because it is a great place to meet people and an even better place to practice Portuguese. It was also, coincidentally, the place where I heard the most English I've heard so far (outside of my friends) On the trolley on the way back we actually met two older couples who were visiting from Dallas. One of the men asked me where I go to school and responded with "hook 'em horns!" when I told him. It was kind of nice to run into some Americans. It's only the second time since I've been here, which, as of today, is officially two months. It was not so nice to accidentally poke one of the Americans with our fondue skewers when the trolley jerked to a stop. Luckily, I could adequately apologize for the wayward skewer in a language I speak without stuttering.

We tried out a new pastelaria in Baixa before heading home. I napped for a few hours and then woke up to study and write papers. Super fun. Study abroad is not supposed to be so demanding that it keeps you from doing other things and experiencing the culture. It's been a little bit of a disappointment to be faced with these massive 15-20 page papers for classes that have no bearing on graduating or even relate to my own academic interests. But what can I do other than do it and move on? After finishing one of the three papers I have to do, we headed out with the brazilians for Japanese food. Ordering Japanese food is somewhat overwhelming in the states when I don't know what everything is. Ordering in Portuguese was downright stressful. They had an all-you-can-eat menu that we all decided to order but then choosing each of the dishes...Sarah and I kept spilling all over the place, too, adding to the already violently red shade of my blushing face. I spent most of the meal speaking Portuguese with Joao who totally threw me for a loop when he asked the waitress for what sounded like "hashish."

"Did you just order weed from the waitress?!"
"No!! I asked for chopsticks."

Oh. I don't know how to spell the Portuguese word for chopsticks but it sounds strikingly similar to "hashish" (think hak-shish) and if anybody else at the table had noticed my startled moment I probably would not have been able to live it down. That's what I get for being friends with native Portuguese speakers.

I know you can't see it, but I'm smiling. I still can't get my head around the fact that my closest friends here are Brazilian, that I took a leap away from the Americans and really forged my own friendships. It's also helpful having them around because I get to practice my Portuguese, although I do get a lot of grief for speaking "too Portuguese." Monica, my teacher, would be so disappointed in me if she knew I was learning *gasp* Brazilian Portuguese. Please don't tell her.

After dinner we headed to Bairro Alto where I was the only native English speaker in the whole group. It gave me a lot of opportunities to practice but it was also a tiny overwhelming. Very cool though. Where else in the world and when else in my life am I ever going to have the opportunity to be the only American in my group? Nowhere. Never. Amazing.

The best part of the evening is that we witnessed the beginnings of a protest. Some politician has decided to "clean up" Bairro Alto by closing the bars down at 2 am and forcing people to leave. The residents of the neighborhood are complaining about the noise, so the visitors to the neighborhood decided to complain about the residents. The "protest" involved a bunch of people with guitars and other instruments and a lot of people with whistles. As the bars forced people to leave, the whistlers got started. The screeching was awful/awesome. I've never seen people so dedicated to maintaining their nightlife environment. I'm sure that people would react similarly in Austin if the city tried to close down 6th street 2-4 hours earlier than usual but something about the narrow alleys of BA being completely cramped made the whole experience stimulating and overpowering. In a good way. Sort of.

The cops showed up as predicted and started politely pushing people out through side alleys as they tried to force their way through the crowd to get to the whistlers. Naturally, the noise only got louder.

Sunday instead of pursuing my usual policy of utter laziness and mandatory Pajama Day, I went to the Gulbenkian Museum with my roommates. The museum is free on Sundays and it houses a beautiful (enormous) collection spanning about 5000 years of human history. Afterwards we wandered through the gardens. One duck-inspired photo shoot, one acorn fight and one nap in the cool grass later, we decided that maybe it was time to head home and start working on the massive amounts of homework we all have. I'm really glad I took advantage of the opportunity, though. The copious sunshine really rejuvenated me for my somewhat stressful week.

Pictures coming soon.

Interesting fact of the day: Portugal has the 4th highest wine consumption in the world and is number 8 on the list of countries with the most freedom of the press. Not too shabby!

And one final thought...
I live here.

That's so totally Barack

A big mazel tov from across the pond to os meus amigos in America for electing a bright, promising president. I woke up Wednesday morning to an email from mom:

"Hi sweetheart. You've woken up in a changed world."

I don't care who you supported in the election or even maybe how you feel about Obama, but I hope you can see, regardless of your political preferences, how mind-blowingly incredible this week is. Just half a century ago, fires raged and protesters marched to bring the rights promised 200 years ago in the Constitution to all of America. And here we are in 2008 celebrating the rise of an African-American to the presidency. I think it's proof that humanity and unity can overcome bigotry and racism and hate. And yes, there are still lots of problems the country faces and I do not think Obama is by any means infallible, nor do I believe he'll be able to deliver on all of his promises. But what president ever has? I just think it's incredible that in just half a century we've progressed as a nation to the point where something like this is even possible, much less--or maybe much more--a reality.

Every single person I have talked to in the past couple months here in Portugal, and especially the past 2 days, is thrilled about Obama's race and election to the presidency. In America, it is generally known that much of the world is not thrilled with us right now for various reasons but I never really comprehended that until I got over here. It's fascinating listening to what non-Americans have to say about the election and the government. Portugal, and the Portuguese, are relatively neutral these days but nobody here is really a huge fan of President Bush, so they were all looking forward to us electing a new president, especially since the European economy has sort of been holding its breath, waiting to see what the American economy would do, which was in turn waiting on the election...Anyways, the point is that all of the Europeans I've met are thrilled that we have elected a new president and almost everybody is thrilled that we elected Obama.

Again, regardless of your political preferences, I hope you can understand how fascinating it is to be experiencing this from the other side of the world. I didn't realize how much people outside of the United States were following the campaigns. Many of my friends here know more about it than I do, which is either really embarassing or really impressive considering I'd been blowing off homework to follow the news...

It's sort of out of character for me to spend so much time focusing on politics but it's been just so interesting following the election so...bear with me for a few more minutes. If you're sick of my thoughts on politics, skip ahead to the section labeled "Toast."

My anthropology professor assigned us a spur of the moment paper to write about racism in the election and it's been very difficult to approach the election results in a completely analytical, academical sense without any emotion getting involved. I feel like this is an emotional (and not in a moody female way but in a I-can't-separate-my-heart-from-this way) event and a monumental one in our history as a country but even more so, it's a monumental event in my lifetime. I wasn't in Alabama or Mississippi in the 50s or 60s but I'm alive today and I sometimes feel like I can feel the world changing on a day to day basis. I felt so proud on Wednesday morning. Instead of having to defend myself as a Texan and American, I got to high five and hug and say "Yeah, I supported Obama!"

Even more impressive than the possibility and then reality of electing an African American to the presidency is just the sheer volume of voter turnout. Four years ago when they did the Rock the Vote campaign, the number of young people voting didn't increase that drastically despite all the money they poured into that effort. And then two men (and one woman if you go all the way back to the primaries) generated so much interest that numbers jumped higher than ever before. I don't know why you wouldn't want to vote; even if you're not crazy about either candidate, I feel that it's a shame to pass up a right that so many people fought for, shed blood for, gave their lives for. Generations upon generations of Americans and people all over the world never had--and often still don't--have the freedom to express themselves and influence their lives in the way that we can as Americans. It makes me sad that some people aren't able to vote because they can't get off work or out of school in time. And it's disappointing that apathy remains such a huge factor in those uncast ballots. I hope this election will help change that eventually too...

And last but not least, I wish I could've been in the US on Tuesday night to dance in the streets with my friends and celebrate the American dream coming to life. I can't wait to see what's in store for the next four years and beyond. To quote my friend Tomas, it's going to be "so totally Barack."

TOAST
Wednesday evening some of the Americans got together for a toast to the end of the presidential election and the eminent end of the Bush administration. We popped a bottle of champagne (the toast) and toasted bread on Noey's space heater (toast) We goofed around, not really feeling the need to talk about the election anymore since it feels like that's all we've been doing. One of our friends who is a McCain supporter declined the invitation to toast our new president but joined in the cheers for the end of eight years of Bush's policies. It was nice that despite our differences of opinion we could a) find some common ground and b) be civil adults about our differences. I watched McCain's concession speech and was disappointed by all the booing. I was really happy that we could all just get along.

That's about it for major things that happened this weekend. We visited a few museums for art history but they weren't that exciting so I don't feel the need to bore you to death. Instead, enjoy some honorable mentions and thank you readers for indulging me in my streak of caring about politics. Ate logo!

Honorable Mentions

• Backtrack to Daniel and Elena's adventures...on our way up to the Castelo, Daniel picked up a carob leaf off the ground and showed me how to eat it. It was not half bad, considering that I picked it up off the cobblestones of an 11th century castle. Not really something I would ever do outside of the influence of my persuasive cousin and the most perfect afternoon.
  
• Somebody tried to ask me something on the street the other day and as I tried to tell him I don't speak Portuguese, I instead said "Nao parler portugues" Parler is french for "speak," not Portuguese. whoops.
  
• I tried Portuguese fruit cake today at the grocery store. It also was not half bad. I did not eat this off the ground. Also, instead of making me walk around to sample, today they just brought it to me where I was standing in the aisle. Nice.
  
• I have decided that the Portuguese ideology of being constantly relaxed is bordering on pure apathy. I'm not sure I mind it that much, most of the time. It's not so fun when the escalators in Baixa Chiado, of which there are 4 very long ones, are not working and you have to climb hundreds of stairs just to leave the subway. And nobody is repairing them.
• I would like to reiterate the fact that people don't seem content to stay on the roads. I dodged a motorcycle on the sidewalk yesterday.
• I tried seitan, a cousin of tofu this week. The cantina here has a vegan line and a meat line, and the seitan stroganoff smelled delicious so I went for it. Not too shabby. My culinary tastes have expanded every so slightly. Thanks Portugal!
  
• I heard some people speaking English yesterday with an American accent, bringing my random-Americans-on-the-street count up to 6. There really aren't that many Americans here.
• Buying food at the grocery store is fairly cheap here. I bought orange juice, clementines, bread, a bottle of wine, futebol-shaped Cheetos (yeah!) and Pims for 6.33 euros. I'm really going to miss that aspect of my daily life here.
• Portuguese cheetos are not the same as American cheetos because they are made with real cheese. They also do not leave your hands orange and cheesy. It was an impulse buy and a very delicious one at that. The woman was not thrilled that I tried to give her 20.40 so I didn't have to get a lot of coins back. Honestly, of all the things to be picky about she goes for my choice of change. Where is the logic in that?
• I have developed a serious case of the Thursdays. Thursday afternoon history class has become the giggle seminar for Elena. For whatever reason, Portuguese exploits in the Indian Ocean are just that much funnier at 5:00 on a Thursday afternoon. It's a wonder my professor hasn't asked me to leave.
• My favorite security guard, Sergio, went on vacation and got moved to a different post when he got back so I don't get to see him anymore. I think it's indicative of the serious withdrawal I'm going to feel upon my return home.
  

I miss you, but I'm just not ready to leave. :) Tchau!