Three Days in Lisbon

I eat lunch with my sisters, Jesse and Abby, along the Guadalquivir.

Exploring Europe (and northern Africa) has been unforgettable, but I received a welcome taste of home this past week when my dad and my sisters, Abby, 11, and Jesse, 17, arrived in Seville.  I spent the week prior to their arrival neglecting my meager workload and meticulously planning their stay in Seville.  My family was only in Seville from Saturday morning to early Wednesday morning, yet we had ample time to schedule all of the important cultural activities I wanted to include.  In four short days, we went on a stroll through the Universidad de Sevilla over to the Plaza de España, where the girls and my dad would return later in the week for a paddle boat ride.  Next, we toured the Catedral and Alcázar, exploring the finest architecture and history Seville has to offer.  We also went all the way to the Guadalquivir River for a long stroll past the Torre del Oro, a 13th century watchtower, and the Plaza de Toros, the main bullfighting ring.  Finally, we caught a cultural flamenco show at the Casa de la Memoria, where we saw a brilliant dancing duo, a female and male flamenco dancer.  Though the two danced separately, they both fed flawlessly off of the energy and passion of the backing flamenco singer and flamenco guitarist.  As for the Sevillano fare, in the mornings, we snacked on flaky croissants with cups of savory café con leche at the Horno San Buenaventura--the same place we  returned each afternoon for fresh gelato--and we went to three of my favorite, traditional Spanish restaurants for dinner (Mesón Serranito, T de Triana and Las Coloniales), even stumbling upon a fourth place (El 3 de Oro) that has surely become a new favorite of mine for its mouthwatering paella.  Yet, I have covered Seville ad nauseam and would like to turn my attention to Portugal.

DAY ONE

Lisbon's Santa Justa Lift.

My sisters, my dad and I all arrived in Lisbon, Portugal on Wednesday morning.  The flight was but an hour long, on a small plane only three seats wide.  We checked into our hotel, the Lisboa Plaza, with little guidance besides the Lisbon travel guide my dad had purchased a week earlier on his Kindle.  Yet, with a good travel map, an adept concierge staff at the Lisboa Plaza and four adventurous spirits,

Carmo Convent ruins.

we were able to explore the overwhelming majority of Lisbon in three days.  Our first day, we ventured up the Santa Justa Lift, a tall, viewing structure in the heart of Lisbon's Baixa area built by Raul Ponsard, the student of Gustave Eiffel.  At the top, we settled at a little Italian restaurant, enjoying our great view of the city and our backdrop of the Carmo Convent.  The Carmo Convent is now in ruins, with only the skeletal structure intact.  The disastrous Lisbon earthquake of 1755--an earthquake so massive and deadly that it actually caused severe structural damage in Seville!--caused the destruction of the Convent.

The Castle of São Jorge sits atop a hill overlooking Lisbon.

After our lunch and sightseeing atop the Santa Justa Lift, we ventured up the inclined, hilly streets of Lisbon towards the next important  monument on our list: The Castle of São Jorge.  The Castle of São Jorge is on a large hill above Lisbon, making it another premium spot for some fantastic views of the city.  The heavily fortified castle dates back to the Middle Ages, as the Christian reconquistadores won the Castle from the occupying Moors and used it as a military base in the 12th century.  Today, the Castle is simply a tourist attraction known for its fantastic views.  Gazing out at the city and the adjacent Tagus River, we scaled the castle towers and marched along the walls like medieval guards.  At the end of our tour, we caught a periscope show that gave us some crystal clear vantage points of the city.  Finally, we retreated back down the massive hill to the lower area, and back to our hotel.  The night was capped off with a Portuguese dinner of seafood, including everyone's first taste of stingray, which tasted similar to most white meat fish.

The National Coach Museum.

DAY TWO
On Thursday, we took the tram all the way to Belém, a riverside stretch of Lisbon, for a day filled with culture and learning.  We stopped first at the National Coach Museum, a seemingly small venue that holds one of the largest and finest collections of royal carriages in the world.  My family and I strolled down the aisles of the museum, transfixed on coaches dating as far back as the 16th century to one coach used by Queen Elizabeth II in 1957 upon her visit to Portugal.  The variety, rich detail and uniqueness of each coach made the museum a worthwhile spot to visit.  We continued along past the Belém Palace, the residence of the President of Portugal, though we could not enter past two sword-wielding, unflinching guards.  We were, however, able to enter the Jerónimos Monastery, an enormous, Gothic monastery that once housed the Hieronymite monks.  We entered the main church and saw the Tomb of Vasco da Gama, the celebrated Portuguese explorer and contemporary of Christopher Columbus.  Later, we walked out to the serene cloister, an outdoor courtyard with a peaceful fountain and beautiful arches.  The beautiful architecture of the Monastery was accentuated by the beautiful weather and the tranquil bubbling of the outdoor fountain.

Jesse, Abby and I pose in front of the Jerónimos Monastery.

Monument of the Discoveries and the 25th of April Bridge.

After the Monastery, we headed towards the water's edge to the Padrão dos Descobrimientos, or the Monument to the Discoveries.  This towering, concrete monument commemorates the voyages of the Portuguese explorers into uncharted territories.  At the bottom of the monument, there is a large protrusion made to look like the bow of a ship, with the depictions of many famous Portuguese explorers sailing onwards.  We took an elevator to the top of the monument and posed in front of the 25th of April Bridge, the mimicking, sister bridge to San Francisco's Golden Gate Bridge.  When we reached ground once again, we wandered alongside the river to the Belém Tower, a limestone fortress that protected the Tagus.  The Tower was used originally as a military base, but has been converted into a political prison and a customs house for passing ships through its longevity.

The Belém Tower.

At the end of our journey through Belém, we had to stop at Pastéis de Belém, a nationally renowned pastry shop known for--what else?--the pastéis de Belém.  These pastéis are small, egg tart pastries filled with a warm custard.  The recipe is said to have been passed down from the monks who sold them out of the Jerónimos Monastery since the early 19th century.  The sweet treats capped off a truly rich day of culture and architectural grandeur.

I stop in front of the Vasco da Gama Tower.

DAY THREE
Our last full day in Lisbon started with a trip to the modern art exhibit at the Museu Calouste Gulbenkian.  We browsed many sculptures and paintings by famous Portuguese artists like Ana Vieira.  Overall, the museum was a welcome change of pace and was very interesting.  After a light lunch, we split up as the girls went shopping and my dad and I went to Oriente, another neighborhood of Lisbon, via the metro.  In Oriente, we saw the concert pavilion where all the main concerts are held as well as the site of the 1998 Lisbon World Exposition, an expo that commemorated the 500th anniversary of Vasco da Gama's landing in India.  Speaking of Vasco da Gama, my dad and I ambled riverside towards the Vasco da Gama Tower to take a ride on the suspended aerial tram.  As we drifted over the Tagus, we gawked at the picturesque Vasco da Gama bridge, Europe's longest bridge at about 10.7 miles long!  The tram let us off at our final destination in Oriente: The Lisbon Oceanarium.  My dad and I snaked through the exhibit, catching glimpses of sharks, manta rays, giant groupers, adorable sea otters, gregarious penguins and even some colorful poison dart frogs.  The Oceanarium had a great mix of wildlife and was a much more appealing option than shopping for the boys of the family.

My dad and I meet our first Portuguese friend, the Lisbon Oceanarium mascot.

Our last night in Portugal was spent at Faia, a traditional Portuguese restaurant with a trio of fado performers.  Fado is the signature, customary Portuguese style of music that features loud, crooning singers with string accompaniment.  We were fortunate enough to see three different singers, a young woman, an older gentleman and an older woman, thus experiencing a scope of fado performers.  The music, coupled with a fresh bottle of Portuguese vinho verde, or green wine, was the cherry on top of a sickly sweet trip.

The First Time I Saw Morocco: Africa, Culture Shock and an Unforgettable Journey

A Moroccan woman and I enjoy a quick break from the hot, Moroccan sun.

DAY ONE

At 3 o'clock on Friday afternoon, I boarded a coach bus full of American students and elderly Spanish tourists with nothing but an efficient travel backpack and a sense of adventure.  I was off to Morocco with an open mind and some pre-Africa jitters, which were to be expected.  Most of Friday was spent traveling, hauling down the highway towards Cádiz to pick up some more elderly Spanish folk, and then Algeciras, where we boarded a 45-minute ferry towards Africa.  On the way, we passed through the Strait of Gibraltar, and saw the awesome Rock of Gibraltar on the horizon.  We finally arrived at the border patrol in Ceuta, an autonomous city that is under Spanish rule, but is surrounded by Moroccan territory, at around 7:30 p.m.  Maybe it was the ominous warning, "Don't take pictures of the Moroccan police!" or maybe it was the shocking sight of 10 Moroccan men using a rope to repel over the border fence, but, while waiting at the border patrol, I finally realized that there were stark differences between Morocco and my homeland, the U.S.  I grew anxious, ready to explore the new culture and people that lay ahead.  We drove on and finally stopped in a small fishing village outside of Tetuan to eat a traditional Moroccan dinner of vegetable soup, chicken with lemon and olives, and custard before retiring for the evening.  I met my roommate for the weekend, an Englishman named Adil who is also studying in Seville, and we watched a little bit of "Arab's Got Talent" before falling asleep.

The Rock of Gibraltar encircled by clouds.

DAY TWO

Hamed poses for a picture.

The next day, we woke up at 7:30 a.m. (6:30 Moroccan time--we stayed on Spanish time throughout the trip because the one hour time difference was negligible) ready to embark on our first real experience through Morocco.  After a meager breakfast, we drove towards Chefchaouen, a small village carved into the green mountains of Northern Morocco, and our tour guide, Larvi, narrated our journey.  He spoke of the diverse terrain of Morocco, ranging from rolling pastures to towering mountains and from frigid ski slopes to scorching desert.  Along the way, we passed many Moroccan farmers, some shepherding their sheep, donkeys and cattle, others peddling their fresh, handmade goat cheese on the side of the road.  Once we arrived in Chefchaouen, we met our new guide, Hamed, a tiny, caricature of a typical Moroccan man, wearing traditional garments, a fez and yellow, clog-like shoes.  As he snorted crushed tobacco off of his hand, he ushered us through the narrow, winding streets of Chefchaouen.  The true appeal of the village is its quaintness.  Chefchaouen has its steep streets cut right into the Moroccan mountain range and is entirely painted blue.  The pale blue coloring not only keeps the mosquitoes at bay (mosquitoes apparently hate the color blue), but it also serves as a means of communication.  For example, blue paint on the streets themselves means a dead end, where as blue on the houses alone signifies open road.  As we strolled the residential areas, I took notice of the customary style of Morocco.  The female inhabitants of Chefchaouen and most of Morocco wear long garments and headdresses called hijab, while the elderly men wear long, colored outfits with pointed hoods (eerily similar to Ku Klux Klan uniforms).   On our way, we stopped at a weaving cooperative.  There, we sat down for a 20-minute presentation of handwoven fabrics, sheets and comforters.  The owner of the store spoke eloquently about the detail and time devoted to each fabric.  He spoke in perfect Spanish, as most Moroccans have an understanding of Arabic, French, Spanish and even English based on their schooling and their former imperial occupiers.  Later, we were able to see the looms and browse the items for sale.  Finally, we were provided an hour of free time, where we strolled marketplaces with bushels full of spices, racks of Arabic garments and stacks of ceramics, before meeting up for lunch.  Seated upon cushioned benches, we ate diced cucumber, tomato and red onion salad, followed by a stew of carrots, potatoes, zucchini and goat meat still on the bone.  We bid goodbye to Hamed and left Chefchaouen, driving around the curved, twisty avenues alongside the Moroccan mountains on our way towards Tangier. 

I camouflage myself in Chefchaouen.

I ride a gallant Moroccan camel.

Before Tangier, we made several stops along the Atlantic Ocean, first at the Caves of Hercules.  The Caves of Hercules are mostly made by the Atlantic sea eroding away a rock face to form a dank passageway.  Inside, there is a beautiful view of the ocean, as well as some wry salesmen, setting up their shops inside of several crevices in the rock.  Further down the road, we unloaded once again for a camel ride.  A friendly Moroccan man led me down the beach for a while, as I my camel strode lackadaisically behind him.  Our last stop was at a yellow lighthouse, a seemingly inconsequential landmark but for one small detail: the lighthouse marks the invisible point at which the Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea meet.  To put the icing on the cake, we arrived just before sunset, basking in the magnitude of the moment and the accomplishments of the day.  We continued on to Tangier, passing some royal palaces of the Moroccan king, as well as the royal getaways of some kings from Saudi Arabia and other Middle Eastern monarchies.  While we were unable to capture photographs of these huge residences because of the large walls and gated areas, it was still a sight to see.  Finally, we arrived at Tangier, a more urban, cluttered Moroccan city, where we had some free time to explore before dinner and bed.  We were greeted off of the bus by some Moroccan salesmen, licking their lips at the opportunity to confront some Americans.  Let me simply say that Moroccan salesmen are relentless.  During our trip, they followed us around, trying to force watches onto the wrists of witless tourists and haggling continuously to fall upon the appropriate price.  I was pretty proud of myself when I bought an Arabic garment: the man asked for twenty euros, but I said, "That's way too high" and walked out.  Seconds later, he grabbed me from outside the store, brought me back inside and we settled on a more appropriate price, 13 euros.  Yet, my friend Adil was victimized twice for his kindness.  On one occasion, he bought some biscuits and sweets from a shop and was jumped by several little kids.  They outstretched their hands and Adil opened his box to show them his five pastries.  They took four, leaving him but one.  Then, as he bit into his final biscuit, a little girl came up to him.  He pointed to show her where he had bitten it, but she nabbed it right from his hand and finished it anyways.  Later on, he stood idly by as an Arabic saleswoman put a bracelet around his wrist and asked for a euro.  He gave it to her since the bracelet was already tied firmly to his wrist.  As for the nighttime activities, I would have been more prone to explore the nightlife of the city to some extent, but the girls on our trip were cautioned that women seen out at night are thought to be "prostitutes" and are treated as such.  Furthermore, I was feeling under the weather Saturday night, so I stayed in after dinner to watch some of the Barcelona vs. Real Sporting soccer match.

The lighthouse that marks the conjunction of the Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea.

 DAY THREE

Bushels of spices at the Tetuan marketplace.

Sunday, the final day of the trip started with adventure and ended back in Seville.  Our group made its way into Tetuan, a unique city not too far from Tangier.  We encountered a new tour guide who took us past the another Royal residence and into the Jewish quarter.  Currently, only one Jewish family still resides in the so-called Jewish quarter, with the other Jewish families of Tetuan residing elsewhere.  (Morocco is about 98% Muslim, with the other 2% Arab Christians, Spanish Christians, French Christians, and some remaining Jews who were expelled from Spain during the Spanish Inquisition.)  Though Morocco is heavily dominated by Muslims, the Moroccan people pride themselves on their acceptance of other religions and the harmony between religious groups.  The Jewish quarter retains its name because of its heritage: the balconies of the tightly packed houses are uncharacteristic of Arab architecture because Muslim women in the strict Arab culture of older Tetuan were not allowed to show themselves to the public.  Now, Morocco is more liberal and a law was recently passed prohibiting men from polygamy, but our tour guide, who was middle-aged, told us he has three wives and we still saw some women wearing burkas that covered all of their faces except for their eyes.  The other reason the Jewish quarter is still called as such is because the stores are still characteristic of the ancient Jewish quarter of 15th and 16th century Tetuan.  There are jewelry shops, cobblers, garment shops and the like.  On our way, we managed to stop at a spice and natural remedies shop.  Once there, the proprietor gave us a presentation of different spices and blends, some used for curing hangovers, others for softening the skin, and others simply for seasoning curry.  The walls were all lined with jars of diverse natural concoctions, making the shop an awesome sight to see.  After the tour of the main square, the Jewish quarter and the spice shop, we made our way to lunch, our last meal in Morocco.  Though the food was not the best, the atmosphere of the last lunch was fantastic.  As we ate couscous, vegetables and lamb, we were entertained by Moroccan minstrels, Moroccan drummers and a Moroccan man who balanced candles on a large platter atop his head.  The lunch was a great way to end the trip and we headed home towards Seville at 3 o'clock p.m., everyone reflecting positively on our time in Morocco.

Becoming a Sevillano Student

I have recently started my semester-long classes at the Universidad de Sevilla, as well as one class with CIEE, my study abroad program.  I thought I would just talk a little bit about each one because the one element of "Study Abroad" I have so far neglected to mention is the "study" part.  Last week, I completed an intensive session course within my study abroad program.  The course was taught at the Palacio de CIEE, a little building with classrooms for the CIEE students, and was entitled Language in Context: Contemporary Spain.  The class, taught entirely in Spanish by a native Sevillano, focused on the contemporary history of Spain from the Spanish-American War in the late 19th and early 20th centuries to the birth of the current Spanish parliamentary monarchy.  Furthermore, the class incorporated a dual concentration on Spanish grammar, so we received both a content grade and a grammar grade on our assignments.  Though the class only lasted two weeks, it went from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m. Monday through Friday and was a good way to settle into taking classes in a foreign country.

A bunch of friends and I (left corner) stand in front of the Palacio de CIEE.

Three days ago, on Monday, February 7, I attended my first classes at the Universidad.  As a student in the Advanced Liberal Arts program with CIEE, I am required to take at least three classes at the Universidad, alongside Spanish students.  The classes I am enrolled in are Comedia Española: Ciclo de Lope, Historia del Arte Moderno en Andalucía, Historia del Cine Español and Advanced Spanish Grammar and Writing.  All four of these classes can be counted towards my Spanish major back at Tufts.  The first class, Comedia Española, focuses on Spanish theater in the 17th century, specifically the works of Lope de Vega.  The famous Spanish playwright redefined comedic theater in Spain, and our class follows the stark transformation of Spanish theater within one century.  My next class, Historia del Arte, focuses on architecture, sculptures and painting in the Renaissance and Baroque periods in Andalusia.  My final class at the Universidad de Sevilla, Historia del Cine, chronicles Spanish cinema through the 20th and 21st centuries and my Advanced Grammar and Writing class is taught at the Palacio de CIEE, amongst all American students.

The beautiful Universidad de Sevilla (departments of Philology, History and Geography), a former Tobacco factory.

Thus far, I have attended all of my classes except for my cinema class, which does not start until next week.  In Spain, students are ushered into their prospective majors from an early stage and there is little leeway for students to explore different subjects.  Rather, a student applies to a school in particular, say the History school, the Philology school or the Communications school, and must take classes within that school.  Thus, the schedules of the schools have some variation and the Communications school and the Science schools start one week after most other schools within the Universidad.  Fortunately, as American students, the kids on my program are granted the opportunity to take classes in a number of different schools, and I know friends studying in the Biology, Psychology and Economics schools.

As for my teachers, my theater professor, Mercedes Flores, is a young, lively teacher who is a great lecturer and shows true passion for the subject.  She is very open to the several American and Erasmus (European Region Action Scheme for the Mobility of University Students--a program which allows European students to study anywhere in the continent) students and is extremely easy to understand.  My Art History professor, Jesús Rojas-Marcos González, is also accommodating to the international students and shows a great knowledge of the topic.  I look forward to several class excursions in which we view and tour some of the structures and museums which he has discussed in class.  Finally, José Luis "Juli" Martinez, my Grammar professor, is the cream of the crop.  He is also the coordinator in charge of the Advanced Liberal Arts program, so he has been with us since day one and knows every student pretty well through the group activities, organized trips and meals we shared at the beginning of the semester.  As a professor, he is extremely kind and funny, and is known throughout CIEE for accompanying his lectures with little doodles of the lecture content.  As I mentioned before, I have not met my Cinema instructor, José Luis Navarrete Cardero.  Yet, I had an email correspondence with him earlier in the semester because his class is a year-long class and I wanted to see if I would be able to not only take the class, but jump into the curriculum midway through.  He advised me that I would have no trouble at all and said he would love to have me join his class, so he certainly made a good first impression.  I have been extremely lucky with my classes thus far, and I hope to enjoy them through June.  Not to mention, my class schedule has worked out so that I have no Thursday or Friday classes, giving me long weekends with which to travel, explore Seville and visit my friends in other countries.

Adios for now and check back soon for a post about my trip to Morocco.  I leave tomorrow!

Alcázar and La Catedral

I have spent ample time raving about Seville and the beauty of the city, but I am yet to really define why the city is so appealing.  Thus, I wanted to talk about two of the most famous structures in Seville, both of which I have only recently toured.  Two weeks ago, I stumbled out of bed at 9 a.m. on a cold, misty Saturday morning, with low expectations.  My study abroad schedule listed an optional tour of Alcázar as the sole activity of the day.  After cross-examining all of my Sevillano friends the night before and reading the forewarning on the schedule, "BRING YOUR CAMERA!" I decided I would forgo the extra couple hours of sleep and see what all the hubbub was about.  I sauntered lethargically over to the group meeting spot, the Universidad de Sevilla, and encountered about 15 others (out of more than 40) who were willing to make the trip as well.  As we ambled over to Alcázar, which is right in El Centro of Seville, we gained new life as our tour guide, Lola, chattered on about the architectural wonder that lay ahead.

Alcázar, like many of the structures in Seville, is a breathtaking relic of the past.  Alcázar is a royal palace in the heart of Seville, surrounded by high-rising brick walls and towers.  The inner workings of the palace are a testament to mudéjar architecture, the unique designs of the Moorish Andalusians who remained Muslims after the Christian Reconquista (Reconquest) of Spanish territory.  This distinct form of construction features intricate ceramic finishing on the walls, patterned tiles and marble pillars, as well as decorations that pay homage to the Moorish heritage.  For example, there are symmetrical motifs that resemble the tall palm trees of the Middle Eastern deserts.  Yet, the palace also benefits from the influence of the Catholic reconquistadors, who used the palace as a residence for monarchs as well.  There are insignias of lions and coats of arms engraved on the walls, creating an interesting dichotomy and splicing of different cultures.

The entrance to Alcázar.

Perhaps the most intriguing part of the palace, however, is its emphasis on fauna and nature.  The palace opens up to many courtyards with flowing water fountains and plant life.  Furthermore, Alcázar opens to a series of large gardens, with a labyrinth of hedges and a colony of ducks and peacocks (called pavos reales in Spanish, which translates directly to "royal turkeys!") who roam freely.  The signature Sevillano orange trees are arranged in rows, encircled by flowers and shrubs.  Obviously, Alcázar is a can't miss site and one of Seville's many cultural, architectural and historical treasures.

Another wing of Alcázar.

With my thirst for cultural exploration not nearly quenched, I embarked yesterday with several friends to explore La Catedral de Santa María de la Sede.  La Catedral is Seville's most identifiable landmark, with La Giralda, an enchanting bell tower standing over 340 feet tall, piercing the Sevillano skyline from any vantage point in the city.  Interestingly, like most of the religious structures in Seville, La Catedral is built on the site of a former Muslim mosque that has been converted into a Christian place of worship.  In fact, the famed Giralda is actually a minaret, a high, focal point used by Muslim clergyman to call their congregants to prayer five times each day.  Thus, La Catedral also has a dichotomous history. 

La Giralda.

Inside, La Catedral has breathtaking stained glass windows and glamorous, gilded altars with intense detail of religious figures.  Yet, the most exciting part of La Catedral is Christopher Columbus' tomb.  Upon the backs of four stalwart, statue warriors lies the tomb of Christopher Columbus, the explorer and national hero.  Standing in front of this memorial to Columbus and think about the impact one man had on the world today was absolutely mind-bending and awe-inspiring. 

Columbus' tomb.

After I regained consciousness, I ventured with my friends to the top of the Giralda, climbing 40 steeply inclined levels in the process.  Once at the peak of the Giralda, we were able to look at all of Seville from every angle.  We peered at the two towers of the Plaza de España, we gawked at the size of the Plaza de Toros (Bullring) and we were mesmerized by all the other former minarets and mosques-turned-churches that we saw.  It was a perfect ending to the day and an exciting omen of the adventures to come.

The view from the top, with the shadow of La Giralda looming over Seville.

 

Be sure to check out the Flickr link to the right to see the new pictures I have posted!