Portugal: Nata, Roosters, y Vino Verde

Two weekends ago I was able to add another country to my list: Portugal! The only regret I have is that they didn't stamp our passports when we crossed the border. We visited two cities- the capital city of Lisbon (Lisboa in Spanish/Portuguese) and Évora, which is a World Heritage Site and still contains many medieval ruins. Overall, the weekend can be broken up into the three themes that title this blog post: Nata, Roosters, and Vino Verde.

Nata

Nata is the pastry that Portugal is famous for, and after tasting one it was easy to understand why. The rich, creamy, sweet custard is contained in a thin flaky pastry shell and topped with a thin baked sugar-crust. I had my first taste of nata during our first meal in Lisbon during Friday afternoon. This meal was a fiasco for everyone except for me, to say the least. A misleading carefree-looking outdoor cafe, the restaurant served me a delicious sandwich which was just like the phenomenally overly-buttery grilled cheese sandwiches that Pitt serves at Market Central, except with the added benefit of ham too. It was arguably the best sandwich I've ever had, with the exception of course of Panera, the number one sandwich place in my heart. They also brought me a pastry that was alternating layers of flaky pastry and a glaze with a slight orange flavor and tint. It was delicious! And the entire meal was more than filling, both for my taste buds and my stomach, and cost just five Euro! However while I was enjoying my meal, everyone else was near tears over theirs. One girl in our program decided to order just a "slice" of pizza. She was brought a slice of keish. The others at our table tried to explain to me what exactly keish is, and what I got from them is that it is made from eggs and some frightening added ingredients that do not sound at all like they would taste good as a breakfast food. The keish served at the restaurant in Lisbon was stone cold, and contained tuna. Our friend couldn't even swallow it. When she pointed out to our waiter that this was not what she ordered, he explained that she simply ordered a "slice", and "slices" of keish happened to be what they had at the time... Yeah, this didn't make much sense to me either. This was the main meal fiasco, however everyone else had something small wrong, whether their food just didn't taste good, had mysterious sauces, or wasn't heated properly. Also, in Europe there is no such thing as separate checks, so trying to pay for our meal (there were nine of us) was another story in itself! Thankfully this really was the only bad meal experience that we had.

After lunch, we proceeded to climb a hill to the Castle of Saõ Jorge. The castle was more of a fortress, yet still majestic and wonderful! There were so many passages and turrets to climb and discover. It was easy to see the enticement that castles held for royalty, and eventually for Disney movies! In addition to the castle itself being regal, there were wild peacocks roaming the castle grounds with feathers of the most vibrant and glowing blues and greens I have ever seen in my life.

In Lisbon we were treated to two nights in a five star hotel. I was still full from lunch when it came time for dinner on the first night, and while Emily went out to dinner with some other friends I took the first bath I've taken in probably ten years. It was sooo relaxing, and definitely worth using all the hot water in the hotel, which is what my friends blamed their cold showers later that night on (not at all sorry- the bath was definitely worth it). Naturally, the breakfasts in the mornings were the best part of the hotel. We took an hour at least every morning to stuff our stomachs as full as possible with the freshest fruit, most delicious breakfast pastries, and homemade jam with toast. It was so so delicious and definitely worth getting up early for. If I had to rank the meals that I had in Portugal, the breakfasts would win just slightly over the meal that we had on Saturday night while trying to navigate our way home from a gypsy camp (more on that later). The guys we were with wanted to stop for something called "kebabs," which definitely was out of my scope of foods that I was willing to try. However I am so glad that I finally caved to my stomach's callings and got one- a sliced roll filled with lettuce, cheese, spicy chicken, and hot sauce, the kebab was scrumptious! This is one time I am glad I was adventurous with my food tasting. Also probably the only time.

Roosters

Roosters are a cultural symbol in Portugal- we had seen them everywhere in Lisbon but didn't learn why until our visit to Évora. The legend behind them is that a king in Portugal relied on a rooster to prove the innocence of a supposedly guilty man, which is in reference to a Biblical story. Évora, as well as having roosters everywhere (as did Lisbon), also had everything you could ever want made out of cork. Cork trees covered the land outside the city walls (yes, there are still the actual original walls surrounding the city boundaries) and in almost every shop you could find goods of every kind made out of cork! Purses, luggages sets, wallets, neckties, shot glasses (which I caved and bought- how could you not?! A shot glass made out of cork? Come on), postcards, the list could go on and on! The cork was so fine and so soft it looked and felt like leather. Our tour guide even informed us that the purses made from cork could be washed! Everything that you see in the photo below is made from 100% cork! It was so incredible to see what the artists and craftsmen could do!

We received a full tour of the city of Évora, including the cathedral, the Roman ruins, and the most important place in Évora, the chapel of bones. 

The Chapel of Bones is built with 5,000 human skeletons, and bears the phrase "Nós ossos que aqui estamos pelos vossos esperamos," which translates to "We, the bones that are here, await yours." While definitely creepy, the message of the chapel was loud and clear, even without the inscription. It was enough to make anyone realize how definitely mortal we are, and that really we all are reduced to just bones and flesh. Or in the case of those unlucky 5,000 people who became the chapel, just bones. 

Vino Verde

Literally translated to "green wine", vino verde is a type of wine that is only found in Portugal, and is a sweet, bubbly white wine which appeals to all of my favorites when it comes to wine. I even bought a bottle to bring back with me! Our guides from ISA recommended that we try the vino verde, and after this suggestion proved to be worthwhile, we also took into consideration their other recommendations, including where to go at night and what to do during our free time on Saturday. Friday night we ventured into Barrio Alto, which is a neighborhood in Lisbon consisting of winding streets of bars upon bars. We met up with some of the guys from our trip, and walked around with them through streets crowded with early twenty-somethings carrying their drinks from bar to bar and singing and chanting in the streets. It was so easy to get separated from the group in the masses of people who were pressed together almost literally without room to breathe. We rounded a corner down one of these streets, and immediately found ourselves surrounded by men selling questionable substances. The drug laws in Portugal have been decriminalized, which was undoubtedly the reason for almost every man who came up to us on the street asking "you want marijuana?" in a muttered undertone at some point during the conversation. However the Portuguese police were out in full force, and dispersed any situation that seemed to be brewing.

I wish the Portuguese police had been present on Saturday, when we wandered into a gypsy flea market at sundown. However before I get ahead of myself to that story, I can't forget about the beautiful morning we had visiting several monuments near the beach of Lisbon. First, we went to a gigantic monestary.

Our second and final visit of the morning was to the Belém Tower, which is a tower located in the actual river that runs by Lisbon, right where the river meets the Atlantic Ocean. When originally constructed, the tower had been built almost exactly in the middle of the river for the protection of Lisbon. However after an earthquake a few hundred years after the building of the tower displaced much of the water of the Tagus River, the tower no longer stood in the middle, but at the shoreline. Today it only stands in a few meters of water. 

We had been intending to visit the market (fería in Portuguese) during the afternoon, however some members of our group wanted to take pictures from the top of the arch in the main square by the beach in Lisbon and we ended up getting separated while trying to wait for them. Not having cell phone service was definitely a struggle. But anyway, Emily and I conveniently met up with some other boys from our program and they accompanied us to the fería, which ended up being nearly triple the distance we originally thought it was from the arch. We reached it with the help of many many locals, who thankfully spoke English, right around dusk, when most of the stand owners were closing up shop. The boys we were with went crazy over the selection of scarves that were for sale! I think they each bought at least one. That's one European fashion trend that I hope boys bring back to the United States- scarves look good on guys too! The fería definitely would have been awesome and entrancing to visit had we been there maybe two hours earlier, however by this time it was getting a little sketchy. Now that most of the customers had disappeared, the stand owners were socializing amongst themselves and beginning to get a little rowdy. One obviously drunk man still holding a small box of wine in his hand stumbled over to us and began shouting things in Portuguese at Emily and I. I've never been so thankful to be traveling with five guys! We hurried away from the fería and began the long walk back home, however of course we didn't know quite how to get back without retracing our steps. After walking for a few minutes, we stopped at a deli to ask directions, and met the sweetest young German man who spoke perfect English and was willing to help us! I am so glad that most places in the world, niceness will always be met with niceness in return.

Overall I loved Portugal as a country- everyone I met was nice and polite and energetic and passionate about their country. I have to admit that I expected it to be pretty similar to Spain because of its proximity, but it was a completely different experience. I'm so glad that I chose a program that offered this excursion to us.

A Weekend in Barcelona

So Jess, Emily, a Spanish man, a Russian man, a Belgian man, a Japanese man, a Chinese man, and a French man all walk into a hostel.... This sounds like the beginning of a bad corny joke, right? Well I can assure you that this was indeed my reality for this weekend. Hostels are something that don't exist in the United States, and after living in one in Barcelona for the weekend I definitely think this is a downfall. A hostel is a very cheap hotel, and you can pay more depending on which type of room you want. For example, Emily and I paid 12 Euro per night (not quite $20) to stay in an "8 person mixed" room. This is how we ended up with six male roommates, each with a different nationality, which resulted in the best weekend I've had possibly in my entire life.

Note: After finishing this blog entry, I'm somewhat appalled by how long it is. It probably looks intimidating, but I wanted to record the details of what happened this weekend in Barcelona. After all, ironically it's the details that slip away first yet are probably the most important. I tried to break it up by alternating descriptions of each of my hostel-mates with paragraphs about sightseeing, and of course lots of pictures!

The Spanish Man: Carlos. The first roommate we met was Carlos, the 40-year-old Spanish man who definitely loved having two young American girls as roommates. Carlos's favorite outfit was a light blue towel wrapped around his waist, and we rarely saw him in anything else. I think this was his goal, because once we came back around 4 in the afternoon while he was taking a nap fully clothed, and when he woke up and realized we were there he immediately changed into the towel. I have to note though I really only saw him get a shower maybe once- he just liked to walk around in the towel. He also called us beautiful every time we walked into the room. The compliment would have been much better received if he had had pants on. Carlos could understand English, but spoke to us only in Spanish except for a few words. I should rephrase that- Carlos spoke Catalan, which is the language spoken in Catalunya in the north of Spain. Catalan is sort of a mixture of Spanish and French. If you go to Catalunya and speak only Spanish, it's definitely not enough to get around. The signs, the shop names, everything is written in Catalan, which is like Spanish in some words but not most. I'm not exactly sure what his job is, but he was staying in the hostel (Urbany Hostel, for anyone who plans to visit Barcelona) while he was on business. Hostel Juan (more about him later) referred to Carlos as "The Catalunyan" instead of "The Spanish Man," and when I asked him why Juan said that if we asked Carlos himself, he would not say he was Spanish, he would say he is Catalunyan. It's interesting how much Spaniards identify with their region- I would never say "I'm a Pennsylvanian."

We left our home on Calle Pages del Corro in
Sevilla at 4:15 am on Friday (Valentine's Day) in order to catch a bus to the airport. Our flight left Sevilla at 7:35 am, but it's customary in the US to arrive 1-2 hours in advance of flights. This is not the way in Spain. Here being one hour early is more than sufficient. When catching our return flight out of Barcelona, Hostel Juan and the Russian Man were shocked when we told them we wanted to catch the 6 pm bus to the airport when our flight didn't leave until 8:55. After a slightly rocky flight, we decided to do some shopping/exploring before 1:30 pm when we could check into our hostel. Our exploring led us to Las Ramblas, which is the most famous shopping street in Barcelona. One of the girls we were traveling with had a friend who studied in Barcelona and told her about an amazing crepe place located in a market off Las Ramblas, and we made this our goal. I couldn't help thinking, upon entering the market, that if you were missing one of your five senses it wouldn't really matter all that much- all five were appealed to at the same time, it was sensory overload!

The colors hit my eyes before anything else- the fruits and vegetables were saturated with color and thinking they were anything but picked from the fields that very day seemed unrealistic. As the food was saturated with color, the air was saturated with the smell of fish and other seafood and with the voices of vendors enticing shoppers to their stands with deals and also with conversations, as older women met one another to discuss the best stands to purchase their groceries from. We stopped at a stand selling chocolates of every imaginable design and flavor and of course couldn't help ourselves from selecting some. It was incredible that by running my fingers over the chocolates I could feel the ridges and details with which they were designed. The taste of all the foods was the best sensation of all! The chocolates were rich and creamy- everything that chocolate should be with nuts and mint and caramel and turron and coffee flavors combined. I also bought a cup of juice that quickly became my favorite drink- mango and coconut juice. Even though the beach of Barcelona was over an hour walk from Las Ramblas, I felt as though I was already there while drinking this wonderful tropical concoction. In keeping with the theme of the juice I also had a cup of fresh pineapple, strawberries, and coconut. I love the flavor of coconut, but I've never actually had a coconut before now. It was difficult to eat and I gave up after a couple chunks because I don't like to bite into foods and it was too hard to cut, but the fruit was all sweet and juicy and savory! We returned to the market the next day, Saturday, as well for lunch. Emily got a dish from a stand called "Organic is Orgasmic" that had probably at least 15 questionable-looking foods in it. Anyone who knows me knows I'm definitely not brave enough to try that- I ate a cup of pineapple along with a glass of strawberry and coconut juice.

The Russian Man: Edgar. Edgar was definitely the funniest member of our little hostel group. We had known him for less than half an hour on Friday when he began eating a sandwich in our hostel room at 2:40 in the afternoon. After eating the sandwich we heard him laugh for the first time, a sound that will be unforgettable as long as I live. His laughter is the kind that rolls and doesn't leave the room even after his mouth shuts. He laughed with his tongue out, his whole face quivering with amusement instead of just his mouth. At 53 years old, Edgar considered himself a "tourist for life." When he was 18, he began his obligatory service in the Russian army where he ended up in Afghanistan. This next part I'm a little unclear on- he didn't speak English very well and spoke to us in Spanish. Juan tried to translate the parts of the story that we didn't understand, but some of the details were lost in the translation. What I did understand was that a bazooka exploded near him during the war and put him in a coma for six months. He also still has two bullets lodged in his body. Because of this, he smokes marijuana at least twice a day in order to keep his muscles relaxed. He has been literally all over the world traveling and meeting new people. According to him however, Barcelona is the best place in the entire world. He was impressed with Emily and I for traveling so much at only age twenty, and he encouraged us to never lose that sense of adventure and willingness to embrace strangers and let them into our lives as we did with him.

We started off Saturday by taking the metro to Parc Guell, which is where Gaudi lived amongst a park that he designed. The park is beautiful- full of palm trees (which are quickly becoming my favorite tree) among other kinds. Of course the natural beauty was enhanced by the perfect weather that we had during the weekend- it was sunny and around 63 degrees both Friday and Saturday! There were families picnicing and friends playing frisbee throughout the open sandy spaces in the park. We spent probably over an hour walking through the park and exploring the beauty that was around us. I think that I love parks because it's like a small getaway from the city life, but Parc Guell, though absolutely gorgeous, was small and cramped, and not open and sprawling like the parks I prefer in Sevilla and Pittsburgh. However it did have some breathtaking views of the entire city, like the one below.

After the Parc Guell we headed back to our hostel to drop off our bags from shopping that morning before heading to the beach for the remainder of the afternoon. However upon arriving at our hostel, we received the saddest news- our favorite hostel-mate, Juan (see below), had been switched into another room! We were so sad to see Juan go- he was definitely the most normal roommate that we had in room 1201. We changed into more beach-appropriate clothing, and then walked the half hour (which has become a short walk in comparison to how much we walk in Spain) to the beach! Every single time I go to a beach I always feel so excited and kind of jog the last few meters to the sand. It's just so wonderful! I love the open sand and the endless water, especially when the water is the wonderfully clear blue of the Mediterranean. I think it's so fascinating to think about where the water that is touching your feet has been other than where it is now. When we returned from the beach, we had a moment of panic- there was a man asleep in my bed!! I definitely was a little freaked out, but at the same time I felt like this was exactly the kind of hilarious and awkward thing that happens in hostels. However to our absolute joy, we discovered while climbing up the ladder to my top bunk with the intention of waking the stranger, we realized it was Juan!! 

The Belgian Man: Hostel Juan. Juan was the member of our hostel room 1201 who was most like Emily and I. At 22 and very good looking, Juan was a college student from Belgium who was in Barcelona completing the required internship during his last semester before graduation. Originally Carlos told us that Juan was from Finland, and then later Juan told us that he was French. It wasn't until giving me his phone number that I realized that +32 is not the country code for France (+33 is) and after calling him out on this, he laughingly admitted to us that he was from Belgium. I'm still not really sure why he lied or why it was so funny, but I guess everyone has their own sense of humor? We bonded with Juan quickly- Friday night while getting ready to go out, Emily, Juan, and I ended up sitting on his bed for three hours sharing a sandwich, drinking, and talking about everything under the sun- Barcelona, Belgium, France, the United States, and everything in between. Juan had come to Barcelona when he was younger, and knew that this was the place he wanted to return to to complete his internship. He also had many other options, including Paris and London, however he still chose Barcelona. He spoke four languages fluently- French, Spanish, English, and Dutch. Although he wasn't technically a local, he still knew enough of Barcelona to be able to offer to be our personal tour guide on Sunday!

Sunday we woke early and said goodbye to our hostel-mates, some goodbyes more sad (mostly Juan) and some definitely more joyful (Carlos). We walked to Gaudi's famous Sagrada Familia, which there is no better word to describe than insane, but in an enrapturing, majestic way. Although construction on the Sagrada Familia is not scheduled to be completed until 2026, which is 100 years after Gaudi's death, it was still absolutely breathtaking. It's been wonderful to see all the beautiful cathedrals in Madrid, Toledo, and Sevilla, but they were all built over 700 years ago. It's so inspiring to know that the Sagrada Familia was built recently (in just over the past 100 years) and possibly has even more detail and intricacy than the ancient cathedrals. It's lovely that buildings like this don't have to be old to be beautiful, cared for, and historical.

After the Sagrada Familia, we walked back to Las Ramblas, not entirely sure what we were going to do for the rest of the day before our flight. The answer came to us in the form of a text from Juan- he had nothing to do until 7 pm, and would we be willing to spend our last day in Barcelona with him? We readily agreed, and he said that he (along with Edgar, see the group picture below- Juan is in blue and Edgar is in the tan jacket) would take us to the Olympic Park, something that I didn't even know existed. However indeed, the summer Olympic games of 1992 were held in Barcelona, and the Olympic Park is now open to the public. The main stadium is still used for sports games and concerts today. Juan had never been there, but his friends had told him that it was definitely a place that he should visit sometime during his stay in Barcelona. I'm so glad he took us there. Standing in the massive stadium was an out of body experience- I couldn't help think about how many people had been there before me, and what it meant to them to be there, both athletes and spectators alike. I especially liked being there because although it is something that tourists do, it's not necessarily something that Barcelona is known for and it's not a super popular destination for tourists. Also, Juan knew a lot of the history behind the buildings and places, and he was the perfect tour guide for us. Visiting the Olympic Park with Juan and Edgar made our Barcelona experience unique, and something worth telling. 

The Japanese Man: I honestly cannot remember his real name. He spoke English well, and explained to us that he was here in Barcelona by himself to do some sightseeing before moving to the next city. What a brave young man, exploring the world by himself. He went to sleep early, and slept in the bunk closest to me. We were both on the top bunks along the right hand wall. He was so tall, and when he slept a lot of the time his feet extended onto my bed, which led to some semi-awkward sessions of footsie in the middle of the night.

The Chinese Man: I don't know his name either. He spoke English very well because he does business in Chicago sometimes, as well as Germany. He rose very early in the mornings, well before we did, and came back after we had already left for the nights. We didn't see much of him. but he was pretty normal. Although he did comment on how beautiful he thought I was, and slept in his underwear which I knew because he tended to throw off his covers while talking to me.

The French Man: 90% sure his name was Amin. Amin did not speak English or Spanish- only French. This wasn't so bad because we had Juan who could translate for us, but obviously Juan didn't want to spend his entire time translating from French to English and back again. Amin took over Juan's bed when Juan got moved out of our room, but he arrived before we knew that Juan got switched into another room. As a result, when we came back to the room and saw a man without a beard sleeping in Juan's bed, our instinctive creepiness took over and we leaned over him trying to figure out if Juan had shaved his scruff or if this was indeed a new member of our little family of 1201. Amin came out with us on Saturday night, and he seemed to enjoy himself. It was just harder to get to know him because of the language barrier.

We ended our weekend by sitting in a park by the Plaza de España in Barcelona with Edgar and Juan and shared a sandwich, a bottle of red wine, and a box of chocolate croissants with them. It was such a beautiful relaxing ending to the story of our weekend in Barcelona, but also so weird that we could do all that in a public park with lots of other people around. But as Juan explained it "who were we bothering"? Edgar and Juan walked us to the bus stop where we caught a bus back to the airport, and it was actually so sad to hug them and good bye. Of course, they told us to let us know if we're ever back in Barcelona. It's thrilling to know that I have friends from such different parts of the world now.

Overall this weekend was perfect. Yes, I prefer Sevilla. Yes, Carlos was probably the creepiest 40-year-old I've ever met. But it's wonderful how these six strange men have become a part of my story, and I've become a small part of theirs. All we did was book the cheapest possible room for the weekend, and I'm sure that they did the same thing. None of us expected to meet each other, yet meeting them was the highlight of my trip. I think that's what traveling is all about- it's not always what you do, it's who you do things with. Sometimes it's the other way around, but this trip it was definitely who we did them with. How many other people did the same touristy things that we did? Hundreds of thousands. How many did them with the filter of a crazy Russian and a random Belgian they've known how a couple of hours? Zero. That is why this trip was beautiful.

Mi Familia Española

Sunday morning, Emily and I rose early enough to go to church with Maria. Her church is just a two minute walk from our home, and started at noon. The church that Maria attends is just as ornate and exquisite as the cathedrals that we have visited in Spain! Built in the thirteenth century, it has high ceilings and stone arches and walls decorated with famous paintings. Most of the paintings and statues around the church have had to be restored since their original placement in the church, but they are still just as vibrant and meaningful as they were when originally painted. Maria assured us however that not all churches are like this- there are some modern ones around Spain, but she was still extremely surprised when I told her that my church at home has a gym! I've attended Catholic services in the United States only once or twice, so I don't really have anything to compare the service to except my own church services back in Lightstreet. Overall, the average age of the congregation was about ten-fifteen years older than the average age of my congregation at home. It was much more formal- you sure didn't see any blue jeans! The mass however was surprisingly short- only about 45 minutes total, and the actual sermon was comparatively short as well. After the mass, Maria gave Emily and I a small tour of the church, explaining various aspects of it to us. Her oldest son, Lorenzo, was married in that church, and her husband's ashes are buried there. Maria explained that is why she sits in the pew that she does, so that she is closer to the place where he is buried. Maria told us that there is no Sunday School here, but she does have a Bible study that meets Wednesday mornings.

After church, we walked home with Maria, her brother, and her sister-in-law. Emily and I talked with her brother, who it turns out lives just two buildings down from our home. He is a writer and a poet, and after I told him that I want to find a novel to read that is written in Spanish while here he offered to have us over to his personal library sometime soon. Maria's sister-in-law repeated this offer, with the added enticement of her supposedly delicious apple tarts. Continuing with the theme of learning more about Maria's family, after dinner we were shown by her an album of photos from Lorenzo's wedding. The album was put together by Lorenzo and his wife, Marta, and contained as many pictures as possible with Maria's husband in them. He died suddenly just seven months after the wedding. After the wedding album Maria showed us an album of photos of her two grandchildren, Lorenzo and Adriana. While writing this I am sitting in our living room after class while Adriana takes a siesta on her father's chest, and Lorenzo naps in a stroller beside the other two. Looking at their pictures, and being here with them made me realize how important family really is, especially here in Spain. Maria takes so much joy in every little action of her grandkids- from their smiles to their laughs to seeing them play. Every thing that they do makes her smile even wider. Even when her older children come to visit she greets them with so much contagious enthusiasm that I fall instantly in love with them because it's as if I'm seeing them through Maria's eyes.

Over lunch on Sunday, Maria asked us with a bit of a smile about our preferences when it comes to boys. We told her our preferences, and then she told us why exactly she fell in love with her husband. She said that he was nice and funny and together they laughed more than anything, but the most important thing to her was the way that he treated everyone else. She said that he was a good person, and liked by almost everyone who met him. She impressed upon us the importance of finding someone who makes you want to be something better than what you already are- happier, funnier, kinder. Of course she couldn't let the conversation be finished without also throwing in that "cuerpos atleticos" or literally "athletic bodies" are important too.

Monday was one of the most beautiful days that we've had while in Sevilla thus far. Finally taking a break from the rain, which my cultures professor assures us will only last at most a couple more weeks, the cloudless blue skies and brilliant white sunshine were perfect for taking photos of the breathtaking park I walk through each morning on my way to class.

 This is the magnificent Plaza de España, which was built in 1929 when Sevilla hosted the World's Fair. Now it houses mainly government buildings but is also a popular spot for tourists on beautiful days! Locals set up portable stands selling fans, scarves, and other goods. Heladerias, or ice cream stands, also crop up on warm days and provide a wonderful snack for tourists departing from horse-drawn carriage rides through the park. Again, this is one thing that is on my Sevilla bucket list.




El Parque Maria Luisa stands between the main street that runs parallel to the river in Sevilla and the Plaza de España. From the picture below you can see the view down the main street that runs down the center of the park and ends at the Plaza.

El Parque Maria Luisa is my favorite place to run to- it's about 1.75 miles from my house one way, so it's the perfect distance to run. I take the cobbled path along the river and then cross the street and run through the park until I get tired, which usually takes kind of a while because being in a place this beautiful somehow gives me more energy the father I go. 

This weekend was our last in Sevilla for a while, so I'm glad that I was able to make the most of it by getting to know Maria better, despite the not-so-great weather. Next weekend Emily, some of the other girls, and I will travel to Barcelona for three days, and the weekend after that I will be able to add another stamp to my passport as we go to Lisbon, Portugal with our program! 

"Think of all the beauty still left around you and be happy" -Anne Frank

After living in Sevilla for only a few days I'm already marveling at the fact that I manage to survive in the Pennsylvania winters. I actually fall in love all over again every morning as soon as I walk out of the front door of our house into the beautiful courtyard and walk up the streets lined with tall, balconied buildings. I've rediscovered my love of running here- it brings a new definition of a runner's high to run not against someone else, or even yourself, but just running faster in order to see more of the city. There is a running trail that follows the river in Sevilla lined with orange trees and palm trees. Saturday afternoon was a balmy 60 degrees with bright sunshine, and the sun only seemed to energize me further and make me push myself harder.

Directly across the river from Triana, the neighborhood where I live, is Puerta Jerez, which is a nice area full of little shops and bakeries and restaurants. Sunday we met some of the girls there for gelato, which I am falling in love with. It's like ice cream but lighter and more delectable and savory. My favorite flavor is turrón, which is light and sweet and tastes of almonds and joy. The second picture below was taken in the center of Puerta Jerez. The first was taken in a plaza near the cathedral in Sevilla.

Today, being Monday, was our first day of classes. I feel like I say this literally all the time, but everything about Sevilla is beautiful. I'll try to remember to take a picture of our university building and include it in my next blog post- Pitt is gorgeous but so is the building my classes are in in Sevilla! The only class I had today was Spanish and my professor is amazing, I can already tell. The class is small, only about ten or twelve people, about half of whom I already knew. The other half were students from China. I am surprised with how much Spanish I remember. Even though I have trouble speaking, I can understand everything that my professor says when she speaks. Also after my class, I went on a tour of the cathedral in Sevilla, and our tour guide spoke only in Spanish and I was able to understand everything he was saying! It was a while even before I realized that I wasn't having to translate in my mind as he spoke, I just understood!

The cathedral is the largest in Spain, and the oldest Gothic cathedral in the world. This cathedral, in addition to being beautiful and exquisite, is the only place to have the confirmed remains of Christopher Columbus! There are several other countries, I believe the Dominican Republic and Venezuela, that claim to also have parts of his remains (I know this sounds really weird and gross that his dead body is casually all over the world) but a few years ago the University of Granada did a study on the remains here in Sevilla and matched the DNA against the DNA of his son, who is also buried in the cathedral here.

Our tour guide explained to us that many people want to get married in the cathedral, and many do, however they have to get married in a side chamber rather than in the main hall of the cathedral. I could only imagine how amazing and romantic it would be to get married there! And then to have the added bonus of walking outside and being in a colorful paradise, I feel as if I wouldn't even be able to focus on my wedding. I would just be too full of wonder! 

After the main hall we walked through some other rooms in the cathedral, including the an oval-shaped room where the bishop holds meetings when he comes to Sevilla, the treasure room, and the baptismal chamber, and the outdoor patio with rows upon rows of vivid orange trees interspersed with flowing fountains. 

We finally proceeded to the highlight of the tour- walking to the top of the highest tower of the cathedral! However it was definitely a bit of a struggle to get up there. The narrow passage up to the top of the tower was originally 36 flights of stairs, but the people in charge of ringing the bell at the top of every hour tired from all that walking, and so the stairs were converted into ramps so that horses could be ridden to the top and back down. 

The view from the top was more amazing than anything I have ever seen in my entire life. I feel like I keep saying that also over and over, but the beauty of everything is just so wondrous!! They say that a picture is worth a thousand words, and so I'll let the pictures speak for themselves. Also it was miraculous that it was pouring rain this morning but it cleared up just in time for our tour! As many of you know, white is my favorite color, and with the warm midday sun shining onto the buildings I don't believe I've ever seen a more pure white. When I imagined myself studying abroad, it was in a place exactly like this. 

Having no scheduled activities this weekend gave me some time to notice things that are definitely different between the United States and Europe. Some are obvious, such as the lack of personal space and the crazy meal times, and others were more surprising, including the bidet. The lack of personal space here is evident everywhere- from the small rooms in our house to the narrow streets and sidewalks to the fact that when you're walking towards someone on the street they won't move aside like most Americans would- they just leave enough space between the two of you so they barely brush your arm, even if the rest of the entire street is open. Our meal times definitely took some getting used to, as did the Spanish schedule in general, but I found that I really enjoy it now! We eat breakfast around 8 or 9 am, whenever we get up, and then have lunch between 2 and 3 pm. Our host mom considers 2 an "early" lunch. Dinner is served between 9 and 10 pm, and then everyone heads to bed around midnight on a weekday. However don't forget about the beautiful siesta in the middle of the afternoon! From about 2-5 everyone goes home for the midday meal and then to nap afterwards. It's true what I was told about the siesta before leaving for Europe- everything really does shut down. Restaurants stay open for the most part, but shops close for the siesta. In the United States this would never happen. Close during the time most convenient for everyone to shop? Never! Perhaps it's because I've been away from home a lot throughout my life, but I have yet to experience any homesickness or even jet lag. I've managed to settle right into my new home.

We're also starting to plan some trips- hopefully to Paris by the end of February (where I will hopefully be reunited with my best friend!!!!!) and Prague at some point, as well as those provided by ISA (Cordoba, Granada, Lisbon in Portugal, Italica, Malaga, and Morocco)!!