To make up for my lack of blogging, I wrote three blogs in one day. I don't care if that's cheating...
This week, I went to visit Marta in Portugal! I was feeling a little heartbroken due to Ryan's early departure (he needed to be at home) but when I arrived in Portugal I realized that it's actually impossible to be unhappy there.
I left my house on the evening of the 4th and spent the night in Pisa with two friends. We didn't actually sleep at all - since I had to leave for the airport at 4:30AM, I didn't really see the point. I arrived in Porto, a beautiful city in Northern Portugal, at around 9:30AM. I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, but excited to be there. Marta and her friend Manel met me in the city center and we ate a traditional Portuguese lunch which, since I can't remember the name in Portuguese right now, I'll call "meat-stuffed meat, covered in meat sauce with a side of meat."
Actually, I could describe all of my meals in Portugal with this same description. My poor little body went into a kind of meat-coma which it's still struggling to recover from. It was worth it though - everything I tried was delicious, with the exception of that first lunch. It slightly resembled a sandwich, in that there was bread involved. Between the slices of bread, there were about 6 or 7 types of meat, including a few kinds of sausage, various sliced meats and
steak. This meaty sandwich of death was covered with slices of cheese, and doused in some kind of salty meaty broth. I managed to eat about half of it but then I was sure that my arteries couldn't take any more abuse. I think the waitress was offended...
Despite its questionable cuisine, Porto was an incredible city and I enjoyed our day there. It has a beautiful river, with a bridge designed by the same architect who designed the Eiffel Tower. Many of the town's buildings were old and crumbling, but still beautiful.
That night we stayed with Ana, a friend who studies in Bologna with us. Her family lives in Braga, which is another northern city about 45 minutes from Porto. They fed us an amazing dinner of you-know-what and I got a much-needed good night's sleep.
In the morning we went to visit another friend, Marta (I call her
l'altra Marta, the other Marta) in a town called Viana do Castelho. We didn't see much of the town itself, but we did see its church, Santa Luzia which is on a hill overlooking the city and the Atlantic ocean. It was beautiful.
Portuguese cities (at least, the few that I've seen) have a remarkable ability to seem tranquil and relaxed even in the midst of big-city chaos. I'm sure it has a lot to do with the people, who are incredibly friendly, but I think the architecture also has something to do with it. It's a lot different than the architecture in Italy. For example, the churches here in Bologna are huge and imposing. There's a sense of power, of strength, of trying to be the best. Bologna's cathedral would have been the biggest in the world if its construction had been completed! The churches that I saw in Portugal were smaller and more delicate, as if the architects focused on beauty rather than size. I found myself imagining what it would have been like to live there when the churches were first constructed, wandering through the gardens without the noise of passing traffic.
We went to two more churches in Braga, called Bom Jesus and Sameiro. Like the church in Viana, they overlook the city and I think I could have stayed there for days, relaxing and enjoying the view.
I had an amazing time visiting Ana and Marta in their hometowns. We've been friends in Bologna for a while but have never gotten to know each other really well. They welcomed us into their homes, introduced us to their families and showed us around their cities. It was such a good chance to get to know them better.
From left to right:
La mia Marta, Manel, Me,
L'altra Marta, and Ana.
After our perfect few days in the North, we left Braga and headed to Lisbon. It was about a 3 hour drive - almost the full length of Portugal. We got there just in time for a late lunch at (drumroll please)... Chili's! That's right, one and the same - the first in Europe. I was so excited that I called my friend Andrew (a renowned Chili's expert) in San Diego to ask for ordering advice. I'm not sure how much he appreciated my call at 7AM Pacific time....
That night, we stayed with Marta's family and ate a slightly more traditional Portuguese meal of bakalau, which is codfish. It's no Chili's but I enjoyed it anyway.
For our final day in Portugal, Marta showed me around Lisbon. We went to the main shopping roads, visited the top of a huge outdoor elevator and looked over the city and Lisbon's river, which I'm convinced is actually the ocean. Look at this, it's massive:
It's actually amazing how similar Lisbon is to San Francisco. There is a bridge that looks almost exactly like the Golden Gate Bridge, the river looks just like the SF bay - they even have old cable cars just like we have in San Francisco. They're practically identical. Walking around the city gave me a strange sense of deja vu.
Marta, Manel and I decided to take one of the cable cars up to Lisbon's castle. As we were running to catch it, I felt something tugging on my purse and looked down to see someone's hand grabbing my hat. I turned and saw my hat on the ground behind me and, thinking that I had been pickpocketed, started to check my purse to see what was missing. The woman who'd had her hand in my bag was still standing there, so I said something like "excuse me!" and she said something indignant in Portuguese. (Marta told me later that she had said "let me by".) I was confused and knew something had happened, but the woman stepped in front of me, blocking my view of her friend who was holding my wallet! Luckily, Marta saw my wallet in the friend's hand and grabbed it back because, well, she's a badass. Both the women ran off, and we got on the cable car.
Everyone on the cable car had seen what happened, and the bus driver even jokingly said that Marta should have punched the woman. (And, go figure, there was a big sign on the street car that said "Beware of Pickpockets"). It was a close call - I don't know what I would have done if I'd lost my wallet. Ryan had just paid me in case for his share of the travel expenses, so I had close to 400 euro in my wallet, along with my credit and debit cards. Thank goodness Marta noticed the second woman who had my wallet...
Relieved that I hadn't experienced every traveler's worst nightmare, Marta and I relaxed for a while, wandering around in the city's castle. It was beautiful, and I couldn't help but pretend that I was a princess... yeah, I know it's cheesy but I sat in a window sill, gazing out at the view of the city and pretending that the big stone room was my "bedchambers". To be honest, I don't think I'll ever grow out of the princess fantasties.
Then we went to a tiny little restaurant and had a great lunch with great sangria. It was delicious! Later, after a nap, we had a wonderful dinner with her family, and traditional Portuguese sweets for dessert. They're called Pastéis de Belém, and they're glorious. Warm custard in a flaky pastry shell, crispy brûléed top, sprinkled with powdered sugar and cinnamon. Oh my goodness, I could create a religion dedicated to these little goodies. I'm seriously considering living in Portugal just so I can eat them every day. I'd get a little apartment above the bakery...
I'm not sure if you've noticed this trend in my blogs - I like food. I like to eat it, and I like to write about eating it. This may have something to do with the fact that I've gained a few kilos since arriving in Italy. Some of my friends are trying the whole dieting thing but I think my method of eating as much as I can, as often as I can, is much more fun.
Ok, snapping out of the euphoric daze induced by too much food talk!!
I had planned to head to Barcelona after Lisbon (I still had the plane tickets leftover from my travel plans with Ryan) but the idea of going by myself didn't sound too appealing. I love traveling alone, I enjoy the independence and adventure of it, but now isn't the right time. Also, the weather predicted lots of cold and lots of rain in Barcelona. Dreary weather doesn't usually help a dreary mood, so I booked a ticket back to Bologna instead and returned home this morning. Even though I was only gone a few days, I was so happy to see my bed that I plopped into it and didn't move for an embarassingly long period of time. But hey, it gave me time to catch up on my blog!
That's it for now, and I'll try not to fall into the habit of binge-blogging. Love to all of you, Happy New Year :)
As I was walking past the cathedral with Harry's roommate Richard (who was kind enough to show me around while Harry was studying), I heard singing coming from inside. We went in to check it out, and walked into an evening mass. The priest was wearing ornate robes, chanting and holding up a huge golden bible. Everyone was bowing before him, there was a choir singing the mass, and the entire cathedral was illuminated by candles. It was beautiful. One of those moments where taking a photo would have been completely unacceptable, so I'll just have to rely on the memory.
Potatoes, eggs, pickles, and a yogurt sauce. I forgot that Bulgarian salads don't include lettuce, or for that matter, vegetables. No, pickles don't count. This actually leads me to another interesting fact about Bulgarian cuisine: Bulgarians love pickles. Pickles on pizza, pickles stuffed in pastries, pickles in "salad", pickles pickles pickles. I would often catch a whiff of pickles as I was walking down the street. Only in Bulgaria.
