That’s all Folks!
During our last week abroad,
everyone had to change their diet. We all attempted to carve down what we had
left in the cupboards so that we didn’t have to throw away much food. Unfortunately, we had all overestimated how much we would eat in the last seven days, because
we were left with a pile of food Saturday night.
Pickles,
Swedish Fish, eggs, pasta—everything that could was fried up in olive oil. What
we created was a massive smorgasbord, a disgusting stomachache that had to be
eaten. Unfortunately, by this time our numbers had been whittled down to 15. Some of us had to eat for two people (normally not a problem for me, but
following two portions of potstickers with a double helping of chicken tikka
masala was tough.) We cleaned all of the dishes for the last time since the
building closed the following day and did a deep clean of the tables and
stools. Everyone helping tried to put a positive spin on our impending departure,
but it still felt like a shot to the gut. I am definitely ready to not have to
worry about studying for the next three months, but as we took down all of the
post-it notes from the fridge and laughed about the pictures we had put up, it
was impossible not to feel some tinges of gloom.
Kuni
and I left around ten that night. As far a emotions go, we were able to hold it together for the most
part (we can’t say the same for some of the other members of the group) and
after hugging everyone multiple times we finally said goodbye to number 13
Manson Place. A fast-track train ride to Luton airport followed, where we then scouted out a
place to sleep for the night.
I
think that managers of airports must get together and hold
conferences to see who can create the most uncomfortable airport. It is almost
impossible to find anything to sleep on. Kuni and I finally found some (thinly)
padded chairs at the far end of the airport and if you turned them to face each
other with a small table in between the two chairs, it was like a cozy bed!
Several others took notice and constructed their own beds--our own little
Hooverville. This worked out well for us, until around 3 AM. Patience with the
lack of sleeping spaces was evidently wearing thin, and a group of thugs soon
started making rounds in our cozy corner of the airport. We were in the
center of the slumbering community, so we were the last to be accosted. I was
woken up by several angry voices:
Thug
1: “Ay, you’ve ad dat chair for tree hours already. Time to give it up.”
Foreign
Man: “I’m sorry, but my gate opens in about an hour and I need all the sleep I can get. You can
have it when I am done though.”
Thug
2: “So wut your sayin’ is dat your comfort is better dan 'is comfort? Now dat
doesn’t seem very fair to me. I think it’s time to spread da wealth.”
Person
by person, cluster by cluster, my happy little Hooverville was slowly being
infiltrated by Socialist thinking. By the time they reached us they had
gathered a small army of wheelie chairs, much more than the four of them needed to get decent sleep. Unfortunately, the got Kuni’s chair but I pretended to be
in a deep sleep (a VERY deep sleep since they kicked my chair for several
minutes.) The glares my broken community sent over towards the rogue village
seemed to have no effect and the rest of the night passed slowly.
Sound it out—LIZ-BEE-ON!
Kuni
and I arrived in Lisbon around 10 AM and caught a bus to the city center. Not
having much of a plan for the day, we took our time getting to the hostel and
didn’t check in until around noon. After finishing our finals, we were just
ready for a moment of relaxation. Upon arrival, we were immediately greeted by
the twentysomething woman at the front desk:
Woman: “You are checking in yes? Come quickly, you don’t
have much more time. We must store your things.”
Us: “Wait, wait, much time for what? We just got here.”
Woman: “Exactly, I see that you are only here for two and a
half days. You don’t have much time. You want to see the city, no? Then you
must hurry. Drop your bags there, I will draw up a quick map and a list of
things to do.”
Ten
minutes after arriving, the woman practically threw us out onto the front
porch. Not knowing what else to do, we followed the map to the nearby town of
Belem.
At
the top of the list was the abandoned monastery for the (no extinct) monk of
St. Jerome. The woman was right to hurry us out the door, the monastery (along
with the Tower of Belem) was free until two. Kuni and I saw the tomb of
explorer Vasco de Gama, several great murals depicting the exploration of the
ocean and several very old looking courtyards. We then toodled on over to the
Tower of Belem; a massive lookout point with famous Portuguese explorers carved
into the side. Although it was packed to get in, Kuni and I bypassed the line
by agreeing to walk up instead of take the elevator. 272 stairs later (I feel
like Manson Place trained us specifically for this) we found ourselves looking
out to sea. The sun had finally started to peek out from behind the clouds and
it proved to be a great first look at Lisbon/the surrounding area.
A
quick lunch at a nearby café and we set off again to tour one of the castles
that defended the city from sea attacks. As we checked out each room a man
followed us and played “Can you Feel the Love Tonight” on his pipes of Pan. We
continued to tell him that we didn’t have any money, so perhaps he just enjoyed
our company, because we head that song several times before we finally left.
Not only is Belem known for their
great castles/other architecturey stuff, but they are world class pastry chefs!
Well, the monks of St. Jerome are anyway.
Pasties de Belem, the pride and joy of the region, were created in 1837
by the monks. They are a buttery, sugary delight that ALWAYS goes down smooth.
Like whiskey, except not as expensive. We split a six pack, but very easily
could have eaten twice as many.
Kuni and I were in heaven. The sun
was shining, our bellies were full of sweets and all of our homework was left
behind in London. Then someone started screaming that his wallet had been
stolen.
We had just boarded the no. 15 tram
back to the hostel and a middle aged man began yelling that he had been robbed.
As the realization sank in, the accusations started to fly. He began accusing
all onboard the tram of stealing. Ten minutes of intense paranoia proceeded.
Thankfully I kept my hand in my pocket and I wasn’t robbed (unless you consider
the pound-to-dollar conversion rate. Amiright Londoners amiright?) Pasta and
chicken for dinner and then to bed around 10:30. Kuni and I were a little
worried that the twentysomething Portuguese woman would still be there when we
got back. God knows that we would have a hefty list of things to see if she was
still at the front desk.
The next day we decided (or, our
friend at the front desk decided) to take a day trip to Sintra, a town known
for it’s beautiful city center. Although the city center was less than a mile
from the train station, it took us more than three hours to get there. On the
way to town hall, we noticed a trail that led up into a small garden. It looked
pleasant, so we decided to explore. One trail led to another and soon we found
ourselves halfway up a (mountainous) hill. We had no idea where it led, but we
both agreeded that it had to end soon, so why not just see what was at the top?
And find the top we did! A castle was at the top. A castle with a fifteen Euro
entrance fee. We began the long walk back down the hill. Now, I don’t want to
give off the impression that the walk wasn’t enjoyable, because it was probably
the best part of the day. We saw some gorgeous little gardens, accidentally
made our way onto a private luxury hotel and discovered a cave (where I rescued
Kuni from a hole he had fallen into.)
When we did make it into the city
center, the shopkeepers greeted us with some Ginja (cherry liquor drank out of
a chocolate cup.) Not exactly what either of us expected, but it definitely
earned Sintra some “cool points.”
Since it was only 4 PM, we agreed
that we had time for another town before we went back to Lisbon. We wanted to
at least see one of Portugal’s beaches, and we saw online that there was one
close to Sintra. Well, if “close” means a stomach churning bus ride through 40
miles of forest, then it was incredibly close. The buses in Portugal rival those
in Cork in terms of swearvyness, although we met an extremely nice yoga
instructor from Brighton, who left us with a very nice thing to think about.
They sun had once again peeked its little head out from the clouds and yogaman
gave us a knowing smile , saying “Ya know, every bit of blue is worth
celebrating” before skipping away at the next stop.
After arriving (and becoming very familiar with one of the
trashcans on the side of the bus stop) we were ready to hit the beach! The
clouds parted just enough for me to get a nice little sunburn and we visited a
small inlet called the “Boca de Inferno.” We stayed until it became dark and
feasted on spaghetti for dinner. Kuni had to work on a intern application, so I
visited with our roommates in the bar downstairs (a very nice guy from England
and two pleasant girls from Sweden.)
We checked out of our hostel the
next morning and spent most of the day exploring downtown Lisbon. Something
rather odd about Lisbon, is that they felt the need to copy Rio’s ginormous
stone statue of Jesus. It’s actually quite cool, looking over the entire city,
but when I asked a local he seemed to think that copying Rio wasn’t a very
popular idea. Anywho…..we felt the need to visit giant stone Jesus. We had to
cross the ocean to the other side of the city and took a bus to the base. We
were running pretty low on funds by then so when we discovered that there was a
5 Euro entrance fee, we flipped a coin (heads=we go in/tails=back down the
hill) to see how badly giantstoneJesus wanted us to see his insides. Heads won
out and we journeyed up into the stone and concrete entrails.
Stepping out onto the highest
platform was stupendous. All of Lisbon lay out before us, easily one of the
prettiest views I had seen so far. My camera then decided to die (and stay dead
for the rest of the trip.) so I am going to have to steal some pictures. We met
up with our English/Swedish friends for dinner and, after discovering that the
first restaurant we chose woul bankrupt us all, eventually found ourselves at a
small hole-in-the-wall seafood joint. Not being a big seafood guy and not
knowing a lick of Portuguese, I mostly just pointed when it was my turn to
order.
Sardine pate with mackerel in a
cold tomatoes and olive oil sauce. Something I probably would never have tried
before, but hey, that’s what this trip is all about. We said our goodbyes and
left for the airport to sleep.
Amsterdam, Sweet Lordy, Amsterdam
I’m not quite sure where to even
begin with this strange place. The architecture in the city itself is amazing;
canals and gorgeous, tightly packed houses everywhere. We checked into our
hostel, The Flying Pig, and it soon became apparent that the Dutch as much
more….relaxed than any other nation I have thus encountered.
We shared an uncomfortable moment
with the hostess upon arriving.
Hostess: “Oh, you are in room 33.
You both should like it. It’s quite cozy. Did you know that Amsterdam is one of
the most accepting places in the world?” We said that we did not know that. She
then handed us our keys/bed numbers and (after exchanging a confused look)
walked up the narrow staircase to our room.
It was indeed cozy with two bunk
beds and six dressers crammed into the space. Six dressers…hmm that’s weird. I
wonder who gets two? We thought as we emptied our gear. Both of our room cards
said the same bed number, but instead of going back downstairs to point out the
awkward woman’s mistake, we just grabbed one of the other empty beds.
The people in Amsterdam are so
incredibly nice! As far as navigating, it is an extremely complex city, but the
inhabitants are more than happy to point you in the right direction. We made
our way to the Anne Frank house and only had to wait about a half hour in line.
During this time we got to know the people in front of us: an American couple
(plus their daughter whom they were visiting) and as we entered the box office,
the man surprised us by paying for our admission. Lets hear it for befriending
strangers! The Dutch had completely modernized most of the building, but it was
still nice to see some of the actual journal pages of Anne Frank.
We went grocery shopping and after a quick dinner of (what
else do poor college students eat?) pasta, we journeyed off towards Melkweg,
where we had tickets to see one of my favorite bands The Dandy Warhols.
It
was a very subdued concert. There was not much rocking out, mostly just smiling
and nodding along with the music. Being in Amsterdam, I am pretty sure I know
what the cause of this was, but I will just keep that to myself.
We
arrived back to The Flying Pig around eleven and after squeezing up the stairs,
we greeted by an amusing sight: there was someone sleeping in Kuni’s bed. All
of the other beds but mine were full and here lay this man. Not knowing what
else to do, we marched back downstairs to the front desk to ask for advice
regarding our predicament. We told the hostess (the same woman) and she didn’t
seem to believe us.
Woman: “What is your bed number again?”
Me: “Well, we both had the number three, but we figured that
one was meant to say 5 since it’s the bed right above three.”
Woman: “Oh, no they both are supposed to saw three. Is that
a problem?”
…….the
realization slowly sank in. I would not be sleeping alone for the night. I
didn’t know that hostels provided them, but apparently double beds are the
thing to get in Amsterdam. That’s why the woman was so strange towards us
earlier that day. She thought that we were a couple.
After
we created a small blockade of blankets, I actually slept pretty well.
The
next day we had to change hostels. We moved from The Flying Pig Downtown to the
Flying Pig Uptown and, thankfully, I had booked us two SINGLE beds.
The
following day was probably the slowest of our journey. Being almost out of
money, we chose to sightsee for most of the morning. Around dinner, we met up
with Cheyenne who was visiting with three other CSB/SJU students. We walked
through the canal zone and took a quick peek at the red light district. A fast
visit to Chipsey King (I thought that they were only in Ireland) and it was
back to the hostel for us.
The
highlight of our last full day (and probably the trip) for me was the three
hour free walking tour. We covered almost the entire city. That’s one great
thing about Amsterdam, it is just so compact that you can walk or bike
(speaking of bikes, I am lucky to be writing this blog right now. The bikers
there are a menace. Silent and incredibly deadly.) just about everywhere.
Amsterdam
is a city of such ontrast. A church right next to the Red Light district. A
“coffee shop” that offers classes on how to quit drugs. After leaving, I was
still on the fence regarding wethere or not I enjoyed my stay. It was probably
the biggest culture shock I experienced while abroad. Ultimately though, I
think that it was really good for me to see. Before I leave off with Amsterdam, here is just a quick list
of things I learned:
There
are 3 rules for living in Amsterdam. Anything is allowed as long as
1:It
is good for business
2.
It is discreet.
3.
It doesn’t hurt anybody.
Kuni
and I climbed to Mt. Amsterdam. It is located in Chinatown and is a whopping
1.2 meters above sea level.
There
is a small church where the Pilgrims said mass before departing for America.
Pretty cool stuff to see.
The
symbol of Amsterdam is “Ms. Amsterdam”—a naked woman, smoking some marijuana with
the word “Rembrandt” tattooed across her bosom.
Each
year over 12,000 bikes are reclaimed from the canals and then resold to the
people living there.
I
left a day before Kuni. It was almost as if Amsterdam wanted me to leave, the
weather proved to be miserable with strong winds and torrential rains. I had to
wait several hours in the airport and was glad when it was finally time to
board. I found myself sitting next to an older couple in their sixties and I soon
struck up a conversation with them when I noticed that that the woman next to me
was reading a book that took place in Minnesota. We had a great time talking
the entire was back and the two hour flight seemed to fly by. It turned out
that they were real estate moguls and were coming back from their winter home
in Naples (They also have a mansion in Cyprus and one in S. Africa.) They lived
just outside of London and at the end of the flight they invited me back to
their spring home in the country to spend the rest of the weekend. I totally
would have taken them up on it if I hadn’t needed to pick up my luggage the
next day. Honestly, I was just touched that they were so nice. I will be
honest, the vast majority of the encounters I had had with Londoners had been
so impersonal, it was nice to have an in-depth conversation with someone. I
guess that goes to show me how wrong it is to generalize like that.
The
plane landed and as I went to shake the older man’s hand he slipped an envelop
into my bag. “Not a word” he said. “This is for giving us old people a
stimulating conversation. Oh, and for being a registered Democrat.” Then he and
his wife disappeared off the plane and out through customs. He had left me
sixty pounds in cash. “Enjoy your last day here. Have a steak dinner on us.”
was written on a small piece of paper. I could have cried. Like Jesus with the
loaves and fish, he had multiplied the contents of my wallet considerably.
Thanks
to mystery couple, I was king for a day! I did sleep in the airport, but I was
able to upgrade to a train ticket into London. No more buses for this guy! I
picked up my luggage from storage and dropped it at the hostel, then I set off
exploring all of our old haunts. At times, it was really rough. Walking down
past all of the museums and seeing the park where we had played so many games
of football. Mansion Place was covered with scaffolding, it looks like the
outside is being painted. I swung by Ben’s Cookies one last time and finally
got to visit Monument (where I got a certificate for climbing all 311 steps!) I
ended the day with a show at Shakespeare’s Globe. I had tried to ge to a show
during the school year, but shows didn’t start until the 22nd, the
day after I left. I checked online the week before I left for Portugal and
noticed that they had added one more show to the calendar. It was Richard III,
the only thing was that it was in Mandarin.
The
Globe is doing 37 of Shakespeare’s plays in 37 different languages. Mandarin
was assigned for my play and although I couldn’t understand 99 percent of it, I
knew the basic story. But really, what a perfect way to end my stay. It seemed
appropriate that since I was currently in one of the most multi-ethnic cities
in the world, that I leave after seeing Shakespeare in a foreign language.
I followed mystery couples
instructions and enjoyed a nice steak dinner along the Thames before heading
back to the hostel. An ideal last day in London.
So Long and Thanks for all the Fish! (and Chips)
During
our last lesson Chuck, our professor, told us, “if you leave this class and
don’t remember a single thing about old man Darwin, then that’s OK. Just
remember one thing: things change." Out of all of the places I have travelled,
all of the people that I spoke with on this trip, out of all the lessons I learned
in class, this one seemed to carry the most weight.
During
our orientation, we had it drilled into us that we would come back different,
older, wiser. I didn’t totally buy into this. Of course I was sure that SOME
people would experience culture shock and see things differently, but not me. I
had already been to Europe for two whole weeks, I knew what it was all about. I
felt confident living away from home and I didn’t plan on altering any views.
However, after the 4 months, I know that along with the other 24 kids, I am
coming home a different person.
What
I leaned while abroad could never have been replicated back home in MN or NE
and I want to again thank my friends and family (but especially my parents) for
making this trip a possibility. So what all did I learn? I’m sure that the list
can’t even begin to encompass everything that I discovered, but I will add to
it as needed.
Water fountains for dogs can easily double as a drinking
fountain for humans. Throw a willing partner and a dirty T-shirt in the mix and
you have a relaxing sponge bath. (Lisbon)
Sunrises are the prettiest on the beach. They continue to be
pretty( but at slightly less of a degree) from the inside of a night bus or an
airport.
The best things in life aren’t always free, but the free
things sure do kick-ass!
-Best
free museum (British Museum- London)
-Best
free tour (Sandman Tour-Amsterdam)
-Free
student IMAXs at the Science Museum (London)
-Best
free housing- Cork (Thanks CSB ladies!)
-Best
free night-Flat 17 playing Hearts
Living out of a backpack for a week and a half is possible,
but pack carefully.
Plan ahead for every week. Also, plan on planning
incorrectly for every week.
Eggs don’t last long in heat. They last even less when they
have been sitting in the pocket of your coat.
Don’t pour grease directly into the drain.
Always find directions to your hostel BEFORE you land in a
strange city.
According to a Frenchman, the French really enjoy thin
couples.
6 boys and 7 girls can live in a flat together, but it
requires some patience, a sense of humor and scheduled bathroom time.
The tube is not for shouting.
Old people don’t exist in London.
Learning how to say ‘thank you’ in other languages is
important.
Learning about other religions is just as important as
learning about your own.
Don’t cheer for the ‘home’ team when seated in the ‘away’
section.
After not showering for a week, you don’t need hair
gel--your body makes it’s own.
When you can, ditch the tube and walk.
There is no perfect city, so it would be pointless to get
caught up on irritating quirks.
Again, thank you to everyone for
helping me on this trip and for reading my blog. Although it isn’t nearly as
polished/updated as I would have liked it to be, I really did enjoy writing it
and I hope that you all enjoyed reading it! I may post some last minute
pictures, but if not, this will be the end of my England blog.
Cheers!
