Mary Ashley + Europe

I'm in Menorca!

2009-07-22T11:05:00.000-07:00

Hey y'all!
Turns out the tiny, sleepy town of Ciudadela, the one that at least some of our ancestors came from, has quite an abundance of WiFi hotspots. And that is because it is now quite the tourist hotspot.
So, here I am, retracing the steps of my ancestors! It's really amazing. I can claim ancestry from many different places...Germany, England, Northern Ireland, Scotland, France, Holland...but none of those places is as exotic or intriguing as this little Mediterranean island. Mostly because it's unique, I think. Those who even know what Menorca is in the U.S. are a select few. But I've always felt a curious connection to this place apart from that, and I think it's because Uncle Roy was so into Genealogy and I actually know much more about the Menorcans that came to Florida than most of my ancestors.

I'm sure that when they arrived at the mosquito-infested Florida swampland in order to be indigo-cultivating indentured servants braving malaria and Indian attacks they all looked at each other and had a collective "WTF were we thinking?" moment.

What? We can no longer go visit the beautiful turquoise beaches? We can't make our traditional arab-influenced pastries? We can't make our typical lobster stew? Actually, just kidding about that one. They came to Florida because they were dying of hunger, so there probably wasn't a whole lot of lobster stew-making. Why else would you sign up for indentured servitude? Well, I did read that some Menorcans came over because the guys who were originally signed up for the trip married Menorcan women when they were waiting to hop across the Atlantic.

So today I heard an organ recital on a reconstructed baroque organ, then went to the diocesan museum, then went to the cemetery to try to find some of our last names. I found an entire room of Triays, but no Rogeros. But the Triays I found aren't actually directly related to us...the oldest guy there died in the mid-19th century. The guy at the cemetery said that before that, everyone was buried in the churches. But they're turning out to be quite hard to find. I'm just glad I got to at least find some cousins.

Then I went to the beach and tried to get sunburnt. I succeeded. Now I am enjoying a beer outside at a café that has wifi. Ciudadela is a beautiful little town to get lost in, and I've thoroughly enjoyed seeing it. I found out today that it has gone through a lot. Menorcan history is basically a series of conquests...the Moors, the Spanish, the Turks, the English, the Spanish again, the Nationalist army in the Civil War, etc., etc. The Menorcan language is beautiful, but incomprehensible to me. And I also found a book today from the 18th century describing the land and its people (that is, MY people). The English dude writing it had some pretty funny things to say about the Menorquines...including the fact that even though the women didn't wear corsets, they had great posture, and the men treated the women like savages after the second day of marriage and after that the women never really went outside (I guess given that fact Florida swampland might have looked appealing). He also described entertaining dances and customs and said they were really religious. Fish on Fridays must have been easy for them being surrounded by ocean.

I did my best to upload pictures, but I don't think there's enough bandwidth here for that. So for now, just google Menorca. Then imagine my sunburnt face smiling in the middle of that picture.

ROMA

2009-07-20T13:07:00.001-07:00

For right now I'll skip on to Italy. It will be hard to single out my favorite pics, but here goes.

Let's start with Rome.

My first night in Rome I didn't have anywhere particular I needed to be, and since I kind of wanted to be everywhere at once, I just started wandering. And I found the Trevi fountain.
Amazing.
Then somehow I found my way to the Circus Maximus, although I'm still not sure how. Of course, since I'm ignorant, I had no idea what it was. I thought: "how nice, a track for everyone!" And it turns out I was mostly right about *what* it was. I just didn't know how ancient it was.
This is the Circus Maximus, with Palatine Hill in the background.

and I could see St. Peter's, and the sunset.

The next day I visited the Vatican museums. I mostly took video, but here are a couple pictures:
St. Peter's, and the 2nd top tourist attraction at St. Peter's: the line into St. Peter's.

The main altar. Guess whose relics are underneath that big boy...I'll give you three and the first two don't count. Too bad they don't let you take pictures while on the Scavi tour, and you actually get to see his relics. You'll just have to trust me that 1) I saw the relics of St. Peter up-close-and-personal and 2) the tour was amazingly awesome.

AHHHH! I think I might die because this sculpture is so amazing. And he did this when he was 24, my age. Damn. Makes me wonder what I'm doing with my life. In the Treasury they have a full-size copy you can get really close to.

This statue in the Vatican Museums stands out because Michaelangelo studied and studied it before venturing out and doing his own magnificent sculpting. It's pretty impressive in real life, since it's so big. I wouldn't want to tangle with this dude.

I'm not quite sure, but I believe this was painted by Raphael.
The next day I stopped over at St. John Lateran...
...and had an "OMG, wish that was me!" moment.

I was quite surprised to see these guys. Is this how they threaten all those immodest women looking to go into St. John Lateran?

And...yet another "OMG, wish that was me!" moment:

Actually, I've managed to run into a wedding just about every day. So...lots of those moments...
I took that one while just rambling down the river Trastevere, killing time and taking in the view. A moment where I was glad to just be me, in the place where I was, to balance out my jealousy of the many wedding couples.

Snapped this next one while waiting to see the Pope at the closing of the Year of St. Paul. Don't piss these guys off. I think the fact that they look silly makes them even more aggressive and humorless. They were checking EVERYONE'S credentials. Even important-looking cardinals:
Anyway, my video of that day is a lot better than my pictures, so when I edit it I'll post it here.
Next we come to the day I visited the Roman Forum, Palatine Hill and the Collosseum. Turned out to be the feast day of the early Roman martyrs. So...good day to go, even if by complete accident.
hail Caesar!
I mean, don't get a big head about it or anything...
Hooray for the Triumph Arch!
Yeah. Rome is pretty darn cool.

And then I saw the Pope for the 2nd time during his Wednesday Audience. I wasn't among the most dedicated liner-uppers, choosing to wait a mere 3 hours instead of 4 or 5. I did get pretty close, though, although unfortunately I was seated right behind a huge group of Italian schoolchildren that got restless after about 10 minutes. They were cute for about 15 minutes after that, then just annoying.
The Pope talked to us about the closing of the Year of St. Paul and the opening of the Year of the Priest, and what he hopes the Year of the Priest will accomplish on a parish level, and a bit of the meaning and symbolism of the priesthood.
You'd think I'd remember a lot more details, since I heard the speech in about 6 different languages. But I, like the Italian schoolchildren, kind of zoned out with some of the details. I need to go back and reread it...I'm more of a visual learner anyway.
It was great fun, though, to see everyone cheer when their country or the name of their group was mentioned. I especially liked seeing the choirs that, when their name was called, would bounce up and launch into a song. There were some Bavarians in traditional dress, a mariachi from Mexico, a choir from France, another from Poland, and the Italian schoolchildren in front of me even had their own special cheer. I found out that there were TWO groups from Cincinnati, OH, which I thought was a bit bizarre. I couldn't find any of them afterwards, though.
On my last day I went to see some catacombs. Of course, no pictures allowed, but afterwards there was a huge storm. Actually, it started when we were still in the catacombs when it started thunderstorming. When we came back up this cute little Italian nun (pictured below) was almost hysterical and said "thank goodness you're alright!" We were wondering what she meant until she pointed out that all the electricity in the above-ground part of the convent had gone out, but NOT the electricity down where we were in the catacombs. I was quite grateful, since I hadn't really planned on being in the catacombs in the complete dark with lots of loud thunder in the background, and didn't really want to find out what that would be like. Since it started hailing, we all decided to stick around for a while. And the hail made some of the tiles on the roof fall, which is what the Sister is contemplating.
And, last but not least, the rose that I received while walking around the Circo Massimo. The girl I was staying with recommended we put it in water, but all we had was a beer mug. But it stayed fresh the whole time I was there.

more ireland

2009-07-20T11:51:00.000-07:00

Galway. It was busy, yet remained quite quaint. Riding through county Clare I was able to listen to news radio in the Irish language, and then when we arrived at our hostel, I went on the hunt for some good music. Turns out it only took us a couple steps. Galway is one of the hubs for traditional Irish culture and lots of fun.
This was the street our hostel was on, one of the main ones in Galway.
Cute, right?
The thing about Ireland is that from the very beginning I was a little shocked to discover how much actual Ireland, even the most out-of-the-way, non-touristic places, resembled the fake Ireland so admired by adherents to fake Irish culture in the U.S. At the first Irish pub I set foot in, it was impossible for me to feel comfortable, since the furnishings and decor reminded me of so many Irish pubs in the U.S. where the only patrons are frat boys with popped collars looking to drink 5 pints of Guinness and/or do body shots, along with the occasional awkward yuppie couple trying to bond over french fries covered with plastic-looking cheese. Luckily, the resemblance didn't go past the decor. The actual people in real Irish pubs are much more interesting than the people in fake Irish pubs.
Among the people I met in Galway were a group of Irish guys who were singing folk songs and cheering America because they said Barack Obama was Irish (!). In our second bar we met a middle-aged ex-seminarian from Connecticut who told us about his hitchiking days through Europe in the '70s. He said he expected sex pretty much everywhere he went back then, and had sex with a lot of people, both women and men, who offered him lodging and gave him rides (in between his protests of the War, of course). Thus, he said, my experience of hosting a CouchSurfer that seemed to expect sex seemed altogether normal to him...in fact, he had lived that exact scenario. He was a little surprised at my assertion that sex never has and never will play a part in my expectations for CouchSurfing and my annoyance at aforementioned sex-expecting CouchSurfer, acknowledging that the '70s "were different times". Just a question for those of you around in the '70s: Seriously?
He said he admired us for being CouchSurfers. I guess we made his day, but he kind of disturbed me. I also wonder at what point entering seminary seemed like a good idea for him...was it before or after these adventures?
Then we hopped in our car the next day and drove to Connemara, after getting lost and going in the wrong direction for a good three hours. It turned out to be beautiful, though, just like everyone had said. We had a picnic here:

Then we went on along the coast to the Cliffs of Moher, where it is prohibited to step on the Sydney opera house while trying to shake hands with a seagull:

Then we went to Dublin, after getting to Cork too late to do anything but trot sleepily through the airport for a couple hours. Well, that's what I did, anyway. But Dublin was nice in the morning. A highlight was the Guinness factory:
The best part is that you can go up to the top of the building and enjoy a free Guinness while looking out over Dublin:
Also, I really enjoyed all the publicity for Guinness. Somehow they managed to convince people that it was good for their health, and that doctors would prescribe it for fatigue and weakness.

WIFI!

2009-07-20T11:17:00.000-07:00

WHOOOOOOO!
So...time for pictures!

Above you will see the famed Blarney Castle.
Within Blarney Castle there were tons of tiny passageways. Since I've never really grown up, I enjoyed hiding in them.
Of course, the view was gorgeous:
And finally, the one you've been waiting for...
me kissing the famed blarney stone. And the guy that works there enjoys the view from up top.

Bari

2009-07-10T08:27:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry there are no pictures in this post, either. The problem is that I can't upload ANY pictures because NOWHERE has free wifi, so my only access to internet is at shady-looking internet points. I'm actually writing this from a laundromat. I feel like I'm in the Dark Ages. But I don't intend to let the internet go long without my Blarney stone/boobs picture once I'm back to Wifi civilization.

I'm currently in Bari, Italy. From Siena I went to Assisi, which was GORGEOUS and I fell in love with. It's such a cute tiny little medieval town. I loved seeing the tombs of Sts. Clare and Francis, and seeing the clothes they wore. And I will always have a special place in my heart for the time I had strolling amongst the olive trees while watching the sun set over the Umbrian valley.

Then from Assisi I went to Foggia, and quickly realized there was nothing there I wanted to see. I tried to couch surf but my would-be host wrote me from the hospital to tell me his father was really sick. This made the second time my host had had family problems! I tried to surf in Siena but the same thing...she wrote me saying her family had serious problems. I started to think I might have a curse and hopped on the next bus to San Giovanni Rotundo, where Padre Pio lived and died.

I wandered around a bit before getting a hotel...luckily in SGR there are hundreds and hundreds of rooms...and even though my hotel was big I think I only saw about 5 other people staying there. It's a huge pilgrimage spot for Italians and I think increasingly for people from all over the world. There were still signs up from when the Pope visited there a few weeks ago.

It was amazing to see Padre Pio and also the museum of where he lived. I took lots of video I'm intending to edit so that you all can see too!

It was funny because when I was in Assisi thinking about St. Francis, I thought, 'why is there no one like this today?' And then the next day I realized that Saint Padre Pio IS today's St. Francis. The parallels between the two abound...starting with the fact that Padre Pio's given name was Francesco and extending to the fact that they both had the stigmata (I didn't think about when I was planning my trip that I would see three stigmatists in three days...kind of intense but also awesome). And even during his lifetime Padre Pio was a spiritual father to many people, and you can see a HUGE collection of letters that were written to him in the museum. And apparently he felt so responsable for his spiritual children that he said when he died, he would wait outside the gates of heaven until each one of his spiritual children were let inside.

From there I went to Bari, which is on the Adriatic coast. There's not a whole lot going on here, but I've enjoyed wandering around. And I had my funniest couch surfing experience to date last night.

A question I get asked a lot is 'isn't that risky?', in reference to traveling alone and especially couch surfing. But mostly just funny things happen, even in situations that could be potentially harmful.

Last night my host, an economist, picked me up from the bus station in a Mercedes. Upon arriving at his apartment we had a wonderful meal of freshly made local bread, locally made olive oil, fresh mozzarella and basil, tomatoes, prosciutto, and ricotta cheese. Also, some very good local wine, which I enjoyed too much of. While we were eating, he put on some Celine Dion, turned off the lights 'because they make the kitchen hot' and lit some candles. And he offered me champagne and Ferrero Rocher chocolates, but I didn't have time to enjoy them because of aforementioned red wine.

So we are standing on his balcony and he starts trying to romance me, but since I've had too much wine I instead start complaining about Obama buying General Motors and how much it pisses me off. Then he went into the kitchen and I realized that the room was spinning and it was probably not a good idea for me to continue being awake, so I promptly told him I was going to bed. But instead of going to sleep, I threw up my delicious dinner.

I think the whole thing was a little surprising for my host.

Italia!

2009-07-05T11:27:00.000-07:00

Ciao loyal readers!
I am currently in Siena. For the past couple weeks I've been soaking up the sun and almost intolerable heat of the great country of Italy. I. LOVE. IT.
I left Oviedo in the dust and was quite content to. I went to Ireland and rented a car and drove on the wrong side of the road and got lost in the Irish countryside on roads that looked big on the map but in reality were only wide enough for barely one car, let alone two, or one car and a horse pulling a buggy.
I loved Ireland. We rented a car in Cork but almost immediately drove to Blarney Castle. I kissed the Blarney stone, although later I learned that the men that help you kiss it also pee on it. How disappointing for guys whose job it is is basically to look down at boobs all day. To kiss the Blarney stone you have to lay on your back and lean back, suspending your head over many stories above the ground. So my friend took a picture of me kissing the Blarney stone and all that appear in the picture are my boobs.
Then we drove to Galway. We had a hostel right in the middle of everything, which was great. There were a ton of pubs with live traditional music, which was AWESOME. The next day (after getting lost even with a GPS) we drove to Connemara, which is supposedly one of the most beautiful places in Ireland. I agree. Then we went to the Cliffs of Moher, which were windy enough to knock us over, and we ended up having dinner randomly in a tiny town which also had live music. We got to Cork late and were going to couch surf but since it was so late we just slept in the airport and when I couldn't sleep I experimented with putting on every piece of clothing I brought to lighten up my suitcase, so that I wouldn't get charged to check it for 30 euro with my laptop inside!
Then we flew to Dublin and saw Trinity College and the book of Kells, and also went to the Guinness factory and the Jameson whisky factory. Both were fun. We couch surfed with a couple, a Polish girl and a German man, as well as another couple from Texas being hosted. The guy used to be a drug dealer until he was arrested for 7 felonies and then experienced a conversion and got a degree in theology. The girl used to be Catholic and a NET minister and then converted to "the Vineyard". We had some really interesting and spiritual gratifying conversation over a Guinness.
And then I went to Barcelona. It was fun. I'll be going back after Italy so I'll write about it then. The Sagrada Familia is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Coincidentally I met an Irish man and his daughter there, who had just come from Ireland and were then going to Rome like me. What a strange itinerary for both of us to have.
Then I went to Rome and spent 8 nights. I fell in love completely with that city so much that I can't even describe it in words. I felt so at home there. I went for a job interview for a description that would have suited me perfectly but didn't get a job because by the time I got there all the positions had been filled, although the man was very nice and happy that I had applied and come by anyway. But for a good two days I was hypothesizing about living there. The funny thing was that the girl I was renting a room from told me when I got there that starting in September the room I was staying in was free. So I had a job interview AND a potential place to live! And I really felt like I had entered grown-up world.
I saw so many things in Rome, but I'm glad I spread them out because even as it was I got really tired. There's just too much to see there. I ended up seeing the Pope twice and totally made eye contact (it's documented on video!). Also saw the tombs of many saints, many priceless works of art, and got handed a rose from a man in a car while walking around the Circus Maximus at 11:30 at night.
From Rome I went to Florence. I really liked Florence too. I got to see the real Birth of Venus by Botticelli and Leonardo da Vinci's Annunciation and a bunch of other paintings that I think it made me a better person to see. Also went to the Church and House of Dante. Both Beatrice and his actual wife are buried in the church, which is interesting. I always wondered if his wife was jealous of Beatrice. The information in his house said he was betrothed to his wife at the age of 14. I really wonder how he felt about her. He must have paid her some attention because he had quite a few kids with her.
I also have managed to get hit on every single day since I left Florence, except for today and that's because I'm staying inside. The first night a guy started talking to me on the street and I was curious about what he would say, as well as wanted to learn more Italian. So I went with it, telling him I was Spanish and that I was an English teacher and he showed me around and then bought a bottle of wine and we sat on the banks of the river Arno while he played the only two songs on his cell phone: "You're Beautiful" by James Blunt and "Hips Don't Lie" by Shakira. I was actually laughing the entire time. He tried to convince me to go with him to a mountain on a motorbike and to be his "girlfriend" but instead I went home, leaving him disappointed and with a half-empty bottle of wine. Since the fact of whether or not I had a boyfriend was important to him, I decided to make one up halfway through, although it didn't really help.
The next night an African guy asked me in French if he could kiss me, even though I told him that he could not sit next to me. I was minding my own business looking at a building from the Renaissance and listening to a guy on the street play some very good classical guitar and then an overly eager African ruined it.
Then last night the same scenario almost happened as my first night in Florence, although it was in Siena, and the guy was a lot more pushy and a lot less respectful of my wishes to NOT go to his house and drink Chianti. He ended up flipping me off when I refused and decided just to go home. Yeah, yeah, I shouldn't have gone out with him in the first place, but he had just asked me to go have a beer with him in a nearby café. Curiosity gets the better of me. My revenge will be that someday I can write something with all of these guys as characters that bad things happen to.
Siena is really cute. Florence was bustling in the Renaissance, but Siena was built up during the Middle Ages. It has lots of winding streets perfect for getting lost on. Right now it's a party atmosphere because of the Palio, a famous horse race that they actually party for a month to celebrate. Last night groups of men at 2:00 in the morning were marching down the street next to my hotel shouting songs as loud as they could. Makes our Derby parties look lame. I saw St. Catherine's head (and thumb, actually), as well as her house and the cell she used to use. I've also really enjoyed the "crypt", which is actually not a crypt but the anteroom of an ancient church covered in wall paintings that were preserved because they filled the place with dirt and debris and left it for 700 years. So the colors are bright and beautiful. It's so funny how they used to just build churches on top of one another, like it was no big deal. Also there is a Eucharistic Miracle here were 200 something consecrated hosts have survived perfectly for over 200 years. Numerous scientific studies have been done on them and they have confirmed that they date until way back when and that they are bread which should have already disintegrated many years back. They've been stolen and returned twice. Very interesting and something I'm glad I got to see.
Today I tried to go to a small town that is having a Chianti festival, but the bus never came. So I had an excellent lunch of grilled vegetables and swordfish and drank a half liter of wine, and then the owner, who had been talking to me, gave me a free limoncello at the end. And then I realized that I was tipsy and after tackling the steep medieval hills went home and took a four hour long nap.
I think I'll go out now and have a gelato for dinner. I saw a place that had white chocolate flavor. MMM.

so...lourdes

2009-06-13T02:39:00.000-07:00

I wish I had written about Lourdes sooner than this, although it is nice to be forced to look back.
My first impression upon arriving? "I have ended up in Catholic Vegas." When I got there, it was night, and so all of the hotels and restaurants had their neon lights lit up, screaming for attention from the crowds of feast-day tourists. There are two rivers going through Lourdes, and my hotel was on this one. This creates the kind of Catholic resort-town feel, because all you see are rows of blocks of hotels that back up to the sanctuary.

And, of course, there is tack. 100% pure, unrefined, leaves-a-bitter-aftertaste tack. Some tack can be kute or kitschy. Heck, I couldn't get enough of the humorously ugly yet well-intentioned sparkly Our Lady of Guadalupe things in Mexico. But Lourdes takes tackiness to the next level.
Of course, most prominent are the holy water containers, which, mysteriously, are different prices all around town. At first I started to bargain hunt and then my brain melted from all the different numbers. In the end I didn't care whether I was getting 3 for 2 or 1 for 1 or 2 for 4.
And then there is pretty much anything else you could ever not need. What? You didn't need the Our Lady of Lourdes pencil I got you? Figurine? Necklace?

Poncho? Umbrella? Candle? Scarf?

Cuckoo clock?

But as I made my way past the garish displays of opportunistic capitalism, I eventually arrived at the Sanctuary. And it was this that made it all worth it.

Since the apparitions themselves are not that old (1854), neither is the Basilica, which was constructed around the turn of the last century. But it has a timeless feel to it, and is certainly picturesque. At first when I went to the Grotto I was wandering around by myself at night, so there was no one there and I was wondering if I had found the right spot. It was nice, though, to get some solo time here, since later it would be filled to capacity with Italians.

The candlelight procession and Rosary was a very interesting thing to take part in. There was a huge crowd since I was there on Feb. 10th, the eve of the official feast day of Our Lady of Lourdes. It was nice to see all the people, especially the entire families.
The next day I woke up bright and early and had a very pleasant discovery at breakfast: all you can eat croissants + as much as you want café au lait/hot chocolate machine. You can just imagine my face when I saw this. Go ahead, imagine it. I made sure to eat as much as I possibly could. Croissants, baguettes, jam, butter, cheese, ham, yogurt, cereal...mmmmmm....
It was POURING down rain all day on the 11th. Not being the brightest crayon in the box, I had decided that I'd rather not carry around an umbrella all day. Then by the time I stepped outside and got completely soaked I decided that since I was already wet it wasn't really worth it to go back up and get it. So I spent most of the day trying not to get poked in the eye by middle-aged Italian women with heavy-duty umbrellas that were trying to protect their fur coats.
Since it was the feast day, there was a ton of stuff going on. I started at the "International Mass" which was amazing in terms of sheer numbers.

Were there any priests left in the rest of Europe?
There was an official welcoming and many of the pilgrim groups marched in with their own banners.
After the Mass I jetted over to the baths, following my mom's advice to make that the first thing on my list. My not having an umbrella gave me a boost of agility and I managed to get in line just outside the shelter, which soon I would be allowed under. I was next to a French woman who said I sounded Canadian when I spoke French and a lively group of Italian women. Most of the women, in fact, were Italian.

They were, on the whole, pretty rowdy. About every 5 minutes someone would accuse someone else of having cut in line, or ask if they could cut since they were sick, yell at someone for having let someone else cut, or yell at someone for not squeezing in as close as they could so that so-and-so didn't have to be in the rain. To pacify them all there was someone constantly saying the rosary and/or singing songs in Italian, but that would only work for about 10 minutes. On the bright side, they were hilarious and I almost completely learned the Hail Mary in Italian. It was much more fun than waiting for a ride at a theme park.
I was a bit nervous for the baths, since I didn't know at all what to expect. In fact, I had been quite skeptical and when I was planning my trip to Lourdes was considering not even doing them. I thought that since I didn't really have any physical infirmities that I should give my spot to someone else.
"What?!?", my mom had exclaimed, "you CAN'T go to Lourdes and not do the BATHS! Promise me that you'll do them!" So, of course, I had to fulfill my promise to my mom.
I'm so glad I did! Yes, it was still a little overwhelming. When I went into the changing room the woman assumed I was Italian and must have thought either I was very stubborn or really stupid since she had to keep repeating directions to me. Not wanting to reveal myself as American, I finally broke down and asked if she spoke Spanish, and then I had to tell her that no, I wasn't actually Spanish...and then we spoke in English.
When you go into the baths you are supposed to have an intention. To their credit, the people running the baths have everything so streamlined that things go fast while still doing their best to remind people that the water is not magical. They hand out little brochures about the symbolism of the water, the history of the baths, and why we shouldn't look to the water at Lourdes as a cure-all elixir. And, if you approach the atmosphere in a spirit of prayer, there is a lot you can get out of it.
I thought that since I was already soaked through to the bone that it wouldn't really be a big deal, but the water was shocking. Not necessarily shockingly cold, but it was indeed frigid. It was even more shocking than a trough of water in the Pyrenees in February should be. It was the kind of shocking that took away all of my abilities to do anything other than be led by the ladies working there. For about 10 seconds, I became an almost-invalid whose body barely responded to the signals to move and speak sent by her brain.
But afterwards I was even dryer than I had been before, and I also felt like my soul had received a jolt of expresso. There was no way I couldn't stop smiling. I wanted to dance on the rooftops, even though my clothes were wet and it was raining. I didn't care! I got a candle to light and then ran into some Americans from the Oblates of Mary Immaculate near St. Louis (Cardinal George's order!) who were filming one of their priests delivering a candle that had been made from lots of little candles people had sent in. One woman interviewed me and another took pictures of the priest giving me a blessing for their newsletter.

And then I scurried around earning my plenary indulgence (ha!). Since it was the feast day, the Jubilee way was open. You could follow a path painted on the sidewalk and go into the places where St. Bernadette had lived. It was fascinating to see what a mid-19th century farming home was like, including some of the tools they used, and then being able to see the placed the whole family lived after losing everything, which had previously been a jail cell. I also saw their parish church and the place where she was baptized.

I also saw the convent where St. Bernadette became a religious. I loved seeing her prayer book, the handkerchief she used to wear with some of her hair which had been cut off. It was just really interesting.
The thing that struck me the most in seeing all of these things was that she had really been just a little girl. There was a sign in the Cachot, the jail-cell house, saying that she said that all of these crazy things happened to her only because she was the most ignorant. And she did have a simple life, but the pictures of her reflect such beauty and innocence.

let's take this back 4 months

2009-06-08T15:58:00.000-07:00

So, I realize that I never really wrote about Lourdes, and I never posted pictures of Paris. Allow me to now.
I want to go back to Paris!
So, what was my favorite part? Probably the Sacré Coeur.
Here is the view from there:
Here is Notre Dame:
and this is the inside:
Here is the outside of the Chapel of Miracles where St. Catherine was off-limits:
And here is the real-life version of a poster I always had hanging in my dorm room!
Wow! It is much better-looking in real-life.

the calm before the storm of awesomeness!

2009-06-02T04:06:00.000-07:00

Hello!
I have been unabashedly joyous these past couple days. In Oviedo we've had a record number of sunny, warm days (the temperature even getting past 70! whooo!) and, even though this is my last week of classes, all of my classes have been cancelled. I rocked an exam last Friday and only have two more academic things to do before finishing up in Oviedo...also, I spontaneously completed 7 pages of my thesis the other day, a burst of productivity I can't quite explain. Pentecost has really renewed my spirit. I've been diligently working out every day and sticking to my diet, although the pink scale I bought at the Chinese store which says "miracle cat mew mew" on it doesn't seem to be too efficient in actual weighing. But my clothes feel good and my friend Carla observed a difference over Skype. If weight loss can be seen over Skype, it must be real.
Right now I'm planning out my travels. There's so much to plan, but some things are coming along quite well. Pham and I will CouchSurf in Cork and we have a couple maybes in Galway. Our plan is to rent a car, go to Blarney Castle, meander along the coast, go see Bunratty Castle where there are reenactors showing scenes from traditional Irish life, and then a medieval banquet! Then we'll continue up to Galway and hopefully catch some traditional music which sounds like is abundant there. Also, I really want to go to one bar in particular famous for its patrons speaking conversational Irish. That would be awesome. Then we'll be off to the Cliffs of Moher and whatever else we find before we drive back to Cork and spend the night there, flying to Dublin the next day, where we will visit the Guinness factory, the Jameson whiskey factory, and hopefully either a Music or "Scenes from Irish Literature" pub crawl. In order to avoid paying for a place to stay which we would in reality only visit for a couple hours, Pham is advocating staying up all night before our early morning flights.
Never in my life have so much sleep deprivation and alcohol consumption actually been planned out.
After that I'm off to Barcelona, but only for a couple days...I'll go back later. Then ROMA!
I was disappointed with the hostels I found online and since I want to stay a week CouchSurfing isn't really an option. When someone you don't know is offering a free place to stay and their company, two to three nights is just about the max. And even though the prospect of staying with nuns sounded kind of cool, I really want a place to do laundry and cook for myself to avoid both outrageous Roman prices AND calories.
So I went to Craig's List and found some great deals...rooms in private apartments which are the same price as a hostel or cheaper. I've found one I really like for 25 euros a night with a 25-year-old female biology student and her terrier, with kitchen, laundry, internet, etc. all included. It is a 15-minute walk from St. John Lateran!!!!!! It looks like it's a little far from the downtown area, but close to two metro stops and, according to her, a 30 minute walk from the Collosseum. I think, though, it might be nice to stay in a quieter area so that I can save all my energy for the marathon of sight-seeing I'll be undertaking. I have a feeling that when I'm out in Rome I'll just keep repeating "I'm in ROME!" to myself and trying to catch my breath because it will be constantly taken away.
The girl, Anna Rita, spent a year in Barcelona so she speaks great Spanish, which is a plus because I would rather speak to someone who speaks good Spanish than crappy English. She has written me a couple very nice emails, which to me is important. I think that the way people write emails reflects something profound about who they are. If you don't bother to even write a Hello, write in complete sentences, or capitalize, and also do not provide me with hardly any information about the apartment and the area it's in, will you be the kind of person I really want to spend a week living with?
So, thank you Craig's List! I'm open to suggestions as to what I HAVE to see.
I haven't planned out the rest of Italy. I have too many places I want to go, and I haven't even looked at a map to see where they are. I would like to spend some time in Florence...also Siena, Assisi, Lanziano, Pietrelcino, Monte Cassino...I think I'll have to scale down my plans and come back to reality. Any other ideas?
Then about 10 days in Barcelona where I'd like to go to Montserrat, Menorca and Tarragona as well.
Then Carla is coming! We are starting off in Santiago de Compostela and then on to Oviedo and we may just go to Italy. I'm leaving it up to her, but I would have no problem going back, even after having just been there. Italy would be a heck of a lot more exciting than Oviedo.
Every once in a while I have to remind myself that this weekend I'm travelling as well...heading south to Andalucía...Málaga, Granada and Sevilla. I am staying with a friend in Málaga, so I'll get to see three friends from grad school there, which will be refreshing. Then I'm staying in hostels in Granada and Sevilla, both of which have rooftop terraces. It's a small detail that I'm excited about. The only things I've planned to do are to see the Alhambra in Granada and the fine arts museum in Sevilla, thanks to my roommate in grad school Heather's suggestions. She said the museum there is the place to go for Baroque, Sevilla-school art (unsurprisingly). Yay.

may

2009-05-16T13:27:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry, blog. I'm so neglectful of you.
I wrote up a pretty decent summary of my trip to Venice, but the add photos thing never seems to want to work. And what would that post be without at least a few of the hundreds (yes, hundreds) of pictures that I took there? You're right, it really wouldn't be very exciting.
So, an update of my life. Life here continues slowly, yet somehow I'm able to sit down at my computer and 4 hours later not have accomplished anything. I wake up from a stupor, recognize the time, and blink, wondering just what new knowledge I've acquired within that time. Usually it's not much, but I guess you never know when random facts are going to come in handy.
Since my last post I have successfully navigated the library system here. It may not sound like an accomplishment, but believe me, you feel accomplished after it takes you 3 hours to check out a book. I thought I was being really perceptive by figuring out that you had to fill out little cards for each of the books that I needed. Well, once I had filled those out (complete with name, address, telephone number, book name, etc.) I gave them to the librarian, who squeaked "you don't have the 'signature'!" I was puzzled by this, since I had signed my name. She said, "you know, the 'signature'...the special number each book has...how are we supposed to look for the book otherwise?!?" In my head I thought, "um...you could start with the title and possibly try author if that didn't work out..." So I went back and tried to find this special number. I found A number which looked quite official, but when I turned the cards back in the librarian rolled her eyes at me and told me she'd have to come do it for me. So it turned out that you had to click on a little picture of a book to get to a separate page which had this other number, the first letter of which you had to find on a list of 5 papers taped on the wall above the computers to make sure it was in *this* library. And apart from this, some of the books are available for you to go and grab by yourself (or, rather, they are waiting to be hunted down, since they don't use the Dewey Decimal system here and it's anybody's guess as to where the book will actually be), while others are kept in a special lair beneath the library, which the librarians only descend to once every hour. So too bad if you come at 4:20...they wait until 5:00 and you have to wait until whenever they make their way back upstairs. Oh, and you can only have three books. And for three days.
They really just don't know how much better they could have it.
But I need to make a list of things I like, since I realize I haven't done that yet.
I like the fact that all the dogs here are so well-behaved. I don't get it. They don't need to be on leashes and trot faithfully behind their masters. They even look like they are smiling. Here you really need never be afraid of getting attacked. All the people have to do is whistle and the dogs return joyfully.
I like the fact that the food here is much fresher, more local, and more flavorful. I'll miss it when I go back to the U.S., where tomatoes bought in supermarkets taste like ashes in comparison. I'm a much better cook when I'm in Europe, it turns out. Almost everything I make, even if I just throw random things together, ends up somehow tasting good.
I like fresh-baked bread available a block away WAYYY too much. I'm trying to hold back. I really am. But its...sooo...good....[Homer Simpson sound]
I love Spanish old people. They are so active. Even though they walk with canes they still walk everywhere and manage to cover a considerable amount of terrain. They go out with their friends and even to bars. I pass them on the street and wonder what they could tell me about their lives.
I love my apartment, especially when I'm the only one in it. Today when I was cleaning it I realized that I feel perfectly at home here. It's so close to campus and everywhere else I need to go. (On the flip side, I HATE that our oven still doesn't work, even though our landlord told me in February it was about to be fixed...grrrr...I shake my fist at the Spaniards' conception of 'about to be')
I'm pretty content with the fact that my classes require very minimal effort. It's quite a shock. I really don't feel like I'm in school...more like I'm retired and am taking some classes for general enrichment. I don't understand how they ever learn anything here unless they are very independent learners, but it suits me fine right now. I did a presentation in class which I worked hard on but was still pretty sub-par and would have gotten criticized for in my classes in the States, but here I was congratulated four times, both by the professor and another student. And the two other students that presented said they were following my example by making Powerpoints. Ha! I think that really they were just impressed that a foreign student a) decided to go ahead and do a presentation and b) knows more than they do about St. John of the Cross.
Even though I don't have to work for my classes, I still have a hard time actually forcing myself to do work I need to do. But I think I'm entering a new stage of productivity because in most of June and July I won't be able to.
What else? I like that I can get Spanish tortilla in almost any bar. That I can go to Mass in a church from the 8th century (yes...8th!). That shopkeepers and old ladies randomly call me "vida" (life), which is something that no one else comments on happening to them. That my translation teacher gives painstakingly detailed corrections of translations, however painful for my pride that is (you'd think I'd have a handle on subject-verb agreement after a Master's degree...). I like that there are so many daily Masses here that I can choose where and when I want to go, and that I am a 15-minute walk from Perpetual Adoration. I love little Spanish children, especially when I see them getting swimming lessons at the gym.
Now, there are quite a few things on my do-not-like list: movie dubbing (it's pretty much impossible to see an original-version movie here so every movie sounds like a cartoon to me), the cold and rainy weather (case in point: it's May 16 and still sweater weather), getting harassed by men on the street or in bars, the cavalier attitude towards sex and relationships, the secularism that can actually be quite hostile to other points of view but swears it's "open-minded" or "free" (if you're going to be a bigot save us all time and call yourself one), the fact that no system in this country makes sense, which everyone complains about yet no one will change, the fact that I haven't really made Spanish friends and thus am speaking less Spanish than I did for the past year and a half in the U.S. (that part is particularly disappointing), the focus on outward appearances, the fact that otherwise intelligent people still think it's acceptable to rely on the media for their stereotypes...okay I'll stop right there.
I'm not going to Malta anymore, but I'm not heart-broken about it. The fact that my roommate is really flaky cost me some money but I'm kind of glad. Instead, I'm going to be spending a good three weeks in Italy, which I'm so excited about. I think it'll be much more gratifying, actually to see Italy by myself. All that's left is actually dealing with the logistics. Where to go? What to see? (Besides the list of, oh, fifty or so places I've always dreamed of seeing. And oh, yeah, catching miniscule glimpses of the Pope...)
Also, I'm going to live it up in Ireland, which is now less than a month away! And Barcelona and hopefully Menorca and Montserrat. I definitely am taking advantage of the beautiful beaches when I escape from cold and rainy Asturias. Actually, it will truly be an adventure, as I am set to be traveling for over a month with just a carry-on. Creative dressing!
Did I mention before that I'm doing a Filmmaking program next semester? The more I think about it the more excited I get. Yes, yes...the inevitable question is: "So you're not going to do anything with your Master's?" And the answer is: not anything directly related, but when your Master's is in a language you can kind of relate that to anything. Who knows what will come in handy if I go in a new direction? I don't think going to graduate school was a mistake or a waste of time. I learned a lot and gained a lot of confidence I don't think I would have gotten otherwise. And I do think it's valuable to learn early on what you're *not* cut out for. And I'm finally just facing the fact that you can only ignore a calling for so long before it becomes something you just have to do, no matter what you try to substitute in the meantime. The past couple years have been a process I still don't understand, which will probably be significant for many years to come, and the fact that they are bearing fruit completely different than what I expected from them when I started out does not make them any less necessary.
I'm actually looking forward to being back in Lexington. I think when I left Lexington to go to college I was blind to all that was going on there. But there really is quite a lot. There is actually a lot more live music in Lexington than in Oviedo. And art. By art, the quantity, not necessarily quality (Oviedo actually has some El Grecos and Goyas!). But it is nice to be able to go to more than two or three places to see something. I miss Gallery Hops.
Okay, future posts will include: Venice, Bologna, my mom's visit and Garabandal, and wherever else I go in the future!
Hope everyone is well back home.

Santiago de Compostela

2009-04-19T04:03:00.000-07:00

OK, so the week after we went to San Sebastián we went to Santiago de Compostela with a group that organizes trips for international students. This meant that it was both really cheap and that we were on a bus that left at 7 in the morning on a Saturday full of Italians and French students that hadn't ever gone to bed.
As appetizing as spending a day on a tour being herded around with 100 rambunctious Europeans seemed, I managed to escape with a small group. A couple of my Belgian friends had a friend from Belgium studying in Santiago, so we went with them and he took us around to some of his favorite places.
I *loved* Santiago. There was something about the air there. When I breathed, I was breathing in the atmosphere of centuries of faith, dedication, and sacrifice that it took to walk hundreds of miles. It was almost like the vigor of the inner lives of each single pilgrim over the course of centuries had contributed to building up this destination. This was the first place in Spain where I felt like I witnessed something vibrant and alive. The present moment is not ashamed to live off the past there...in fact, it simply cannot avoid or deny it...but at the same time doesn't treat that tradition with a rigidness that cannot permit new growth, which I feel happens in Oviedo and ends up making the faith something dusty that should be in a museum and not something with relevance to daily life.
Many people seem to find reasons to do the Way of St. James today that have nothing to do with faith at all. I have to admit that I don't really understand that, but I still felt inspired when I saw the backpackers arrive at their destination with a look of true appreciation in their eyes and joy on their faces, as they took some time simply to lay in front of the Cathedral and contemplate it. I felt like I shared something with them, even though I didn't know where they were from or why they had made the journey they just came from.
This is the view they were admiring:
This Cathedral is gorgeous. Every picture of it looks like a postcard. The inside was pretty impressive as well.
This is a random side altar I thought was pretty.
This is the famous and painfully politically incorrect St. James the Moor-Slayer.
Of course, the most impressive thing were the remains of St. James the Apostle that rest inside the Cathedral, which I was able to spend a good, long time with since the group I had escaped with were cool. As I was walking into the little room where those remains are, I was struck by the feeling that one day I have to do the Way of St. James, and that I should convince my friends to come with me. (I seem to have gotten my friend Carla on board and we are planning for summer of 2011...anyone else interested?)
Here is a random street that I liked:
After the Cathedral, we went to a park:
Magical? Why yes, it was.
This is the university campus. I was very jealous of the students.
On the whole, on every street corner there seemed to be a beautiful little church.

After Santiago we went to the Tour of Hercules, which according to the Romans was actually built by Hercules himself. I wasn't really all that taken with it. From there we went to A Coruña, which is on the coast but was extremely uninspiring. I only took one picture there and it was the blandest ocean photo I've ever seen, that doesn't even deserve space on the internet. After Santiago, it really just couldn't measure up.

San Sebastián

2009-04-10T03:33:00.000-07:00

Ahhh...one of the most gorgeous beaches in Spain, according to the Spaniards. Combine this with a castle and a giant statue of Jesus on top of a mountain, as well as the most complicated and delicious little snacks you've ever seen, and you have quite a lovely day trip to San Sebastián, in Spain's Basque country, near the French border.
But before being able to bask in this lovely and relaxing view, I managed to get us lost in quite a hilarious misunderstanding that may take away my "intrepid traveler" status.
In order to get to San Sebastián, we decided to take two night buses so that we wouldn't have to pay for a hostel to spend the night. As a result, we rolled into the Basque country half-asleep at around six in the morning. It was around the time we were supposed to be arriving, and I groggily heard the driver announce something that sounded suspiciously close to "San Sebastián". Not wanting to wake up in France by accident, I hurriedly woke up Danielle, my roommate, and we scrambled off the bus.
This being Spain, we knew nothing would be open for another three hours, so we wandered in the dark in 37 degree weather in search of any place that might have a bathroom. We found a band of drunk adolescent Basques that told us to follow them and ended up at a dance club STILL OPEN at 7 in the morning, but when we tried to use the bathroom we noticed that, while people continuously streamed into that one-seater, no one ever came out. Of course, we could barely perceive this since we were forced to take off our glasses, which had immediately fogged up from the smoke upon entering. Feeling more than a little suspicious, we settled on wandering around and trying to find something, anything, that would correspond with the map in my guidebook. Around daylight we were able to find refuge in a café which, although offering very good croissants, was also apparently the favorite hangout of a thin, drunk man slurring obscenities in a mix of Basque and Spanish at an electronic slot machine. For those who don't know, Basque is completely unrelated to Spanish. In fact, they don't really know where it comes from and remains almost a complete mystery to linguists. So it wasn't all that much fun when this guy decides to yell at us in this mysterious language. The only thing we were able to understand was something about the Japanese and the fact that he was probably asking for money from us. I pretended not to hear him, feigning attention at a news report on what Barack Obama thinks about Kurdistan, while Danielle got quite scared. We fled to the bathroom, and expressed our disappointment at not finding the beautiful beach we had heard about by making the following faces:So after having freshened up, we wandered around for quite a bit longer. We ended up following a little old lady who, being very pale and seeming frightened when we asked her where we could get a taxi, and who later completely disappeared in the distance next to a factory, we decided might be either a ghost or a figment of our tired and overactive imaginations. Next to the factory we ended up running into a Romanian cook who was still drunk but had to be at work soon and didn't know where he was either, but luckily he was able to lead us to a taxi. We jumped in excitedly, asking to be taken to the castle. "Very well", the driver said at first, but when he went to put the car into gear he realized he had no idea what castle we were talking about. I showed him the map in my guidebook.
"Ohhh...you want to go to San Sebastián!" he exclaimed, proud that he had figured out our request.
"Yes!", I shouted enthusiastically. And then Danielle and I exclaimed in unison, "But...where are we now?!?"
It turned out that we were in Eibar, about half an hour from where we wanted to be, and it would have cost more to get to San Sebastián in a taxi than the 5 hour bus trip we had just taken from Oviedo. Luckily there was a bus to San Sebastián and nice people that helped us figure out how to take it. I didn't even take a picture there. It was pretty much the opposite of picturesque.
But once we got to San Sebastián we were able to take in the following views:

After meeting up with a friend from Berea, we decided to saunter over to the mountain/castle. On the way were some beautiful old buildings which I enjoyed taking pictures of.

Also, we walked past the port:

Our final destination, though, was Jesus.
The castle was also pretty cool:

And of course, what trip would be complete without taking some time out to relax on some artillery?
On a side note, heaven only knows why, but the mullet is in its renaissance here in Spain. At the castle I was able to snap a picture of the famed mullet/dreadlock combo, one of the most heinous mullet variations:

yep, still here!

2009-04-10T03:20:00.001-07:00

Hello everyone...saludos desde España!
I just wanted to leave a small update. I have been so busy scooting around Europe. Since my last post, I have gotten hopelessly lost in a small town in the Basque country, breathed in the magic of Santiago de Compostela, seen the tombs of St. James, St. Luke, St. Mark, St. Lucia and St. Anthony of Padua, the largest relic of the true cross supposedly in existence (90 centimeters!), leisurely floated down the Grand Canal in Venice, sang "That's Amore!" at the top of my lungs with cheerful Italians while holding a bottle of cheap but delicious Italian wine and strolling down medieval boulevards in Bologna, experienced all-you-can-eat pizza and pasta, ate just about all the gelato I could stand, narrowly escaped an earthquake, deftly navigated country mountain roads in northern Spain where apparently all it takes are three buildings to make up a town and road names don't actually exist the way we would like them to.
I promise I will post pictures very soon!

Come to Oviedo! See the beautiful sights!

2009-03-14T12:05:00.000-07:00

Ahh, Europe...land of priceless works of art and culture. Above is my favorite sculpture in town, partly because I just can't believe it exists, and also because it was one of the first landmarks I could find my way back to my apartment from. There are many other sculptures around town:

This one is another landmark, meant to represent maternity, affectionately referred to by the locals as "La Gorda" (the fat lady).

And, lest we forget:

Notice that he is walking without his glasses. Poor guy. They constantly get stolen. As far as I can tell there is a statue of him here because a few years ago they gave him an award and he said some very nice things about Oviedo in his acceptance speech, among them being that it is very clean (which it is) and that it is a fairy-tale city which shouldn't exist. After seeing this statue, it makes you wonder why he didn't include it in the background in a scene in Vicky Christina Barcelona, just for fun.

The other day it was sunny and I had no classes (I wasn't skipping! I genuinely had nowhere to be!) so I wandered around town taking pictures. Here are some more:

The Cathedral.

Something old and picturesque on the side of a church. (Yes, it says 1679)
A cute little street. At the far end the clock tower you see is part of their "City Hall" building.

And, well, it looks like the picture uploader is being stubborn, so that's all I can put up for now.

Things are looking up here in Oviedo. Rather than being annoyed by the bureaucracy and the boring classes, I'm taking advantage of all the free time to mosey around the city, hang out with French and Belgian people (as well as Brazilian, Finnish, Romanian, Portuguese, Turkish, Italian, Scottish and...oh yeah...Spanish), and plan voyages elsewhere. I finally feel relatively adapted. The "weird" things don't seem so weird anymore, and I'm really starting to see the benefits of a midday siesta. I love that no matter how much I don't rush I always seem to be 15 minutes early for everything. This is all because I finally registered with the University and hopefully won't have to have any more bureaucratic dealings for the rest of my stay.

I've become good friends with one of my roommates, and I'm so excited that she also wants to travel. Right now I'm looking at going to Milan, Venice and Bologna in early April, Portugal in May, Andalucía (southern Spain) in late May or early June, Rome and Florence in late June, and Malta and Sicily in July, with trips to places within 4 hours from here scattered throughout the weekends. I'm particularly excited about the Malta trip. So far the only thing I really know about Malta is that St. Paul went there, and I only know that because one summer the Vacation Bible School the Catholics and Baptists teamed up to put on decorated the Baptist church basement look like "Malta", which actually looked a lot like Hawaii, and they put on plastic leis and we made seashell friendship bracelets. But my roommate Danielle has a friend who is from there, and he has a friend who has his pilot's license, and they were planning on flying a private plane to Sicily and Southern Italy, which actually seems to be quite common among the Maltese. Never in my life did I think I would ever talk about taking a private plane from Malta to Sicily but it actually is kind of fun to say and makes me feel like I'm in one of those novels about the crumbling British aristocracy which doesn't know what to do with itself. I wanted to go to Austria too to visit a friend but I'm not sure how I can possibly fit it in...I would also like to go back to France around May...maybe after Portugal. I'm also very excited about going to Italy. We are going to Bologna because we know two people that will be studying there, and also because my guidebook says that it is the best food city in Italy (!!!), and Venice, because, well...it's Venice. We booked our tickets round-trip for about $70 (and, believe it or not, that was about $30 more than we expected to pay but the ticket prices rose).
So, as you can see, there is a real benefit to having classes that don't demand anything of you and which don't take attendance. My other roommate complains a lot because she is taking very hard classes which are way beyond her level and involve translating documents from the Middle Ages from Latin to Spanish. I try not to talk about how happy I am around her, so mostly we just don't talk.
My classes aren't all *that* bad, though. I enrolled in a English-Spanish translation course because I was so bored and I knew I had made the right call when the first text the professor gave us to translate was "Willing Slaves of the Welfare State" from C.S. Lewis! So not only was it challenging and fun, I also found within it quite a few good arguments which expressed exactly how I feel about the government! yay! It was quite an unexpected surprise. So far that course has been very fulfilling, engaging, and informative...exactly the way I wish my other two courses were.
I think my days of getting frauded out of Euros are over, now that I'm a little more street-wise. I continue to buy cheap produce and have cut back my hot chocolate habit from every day to once a week, now that I have internet at home and don't have quite as much reason to indulge in those cups of wonderful melted bars of goodness.
I currently feel quite continental with my dinner of freshly-baked bread, a platter of different cheeses, and thinly-sliced sausage. The only thing that would make me feel more Spanish is if I were now planning to be out drinking for the next 12 hours. But it's not going to happen. Actually, I have a combination of sinusitis and bronchitis which gives me a cough that sounds like my lungs are rattling and makes small children run. So I'm taking it easy while my two roommates, along with most of the Erasmus kids, run around the beautiful city of León. I am actually really enjoying feeling like I am 24 again (and not 19) and find Oviedo to be quite pleasant when it is Erasmus-free. Not that they aren't nice people, it's just nice to have a break.
More pictures coming soon!

2009-02-26T12:56:00.000-08:00

It seems as if the picture thing is finally working, so here is something. Proof that I was in France!

class?

2009-02-26T11:58:00.000-08:00

So I've gone to my "doctorate" class for two days. I was a little nervous about it, and had no idea what to expect, but it turns out that, despite the fact that the course is titled "Current Spanish Novel", we will not actually be reading any novels. In fact, it seems like mostly we'll be reading four-page excerpts, getting asked our general opinion of whether we like it or not (to which the professor usually replies "good, good, yes" no matter what we say) and getting lots of summaries about other books, as well as extremely general summaries about context that aren't actually all that helpful. Attendance is 80%-85%, and there is an optional 13-15 page final paper at the end if we want to get above a C, but if not, that's okay too. Today the most interesting comment was "well, I notice that this fragment has a lot of dialogue, which seems to be common among novels from the 1950s".

I'm sorry, but I thought I had already graduated with a Bachelor's degree. If I'm going to go to class I would like it to at least be interesting, and I was looking forward to immersing myself in some novels, even if I'm still not allowed to check out books from the library. Overall, since I'm not studying for my comprehensive exams anymore, I find that I really don't care about memorizing authors' names and book titles, but that seems to be what this class is most good for.

So, I'm actively looking for other hobbies. I thought about buying some yarn and knitting needles in a cheap Chinese import store, but then I thought that I didn't want to be lame. I think I might start wandering around campus and finding random classes to sit in on. Honestly, things are so laid back here I don't think anyone would notice or care. I'm going to search through the catalog tonight to try to at least find one class that makes me feel like I'm not wasting my time.

One of my roommates is now hooking up with our landlord. I let her know that I was 100% opposed, because I think that there's no way it can turn out in a positive way, and she said that if things got awkward she would move. It seems like a lot of trouble that could be avoided if they could just not hook up (because awkwardness is almost certain in this situation, by definition). He is an admitted player who told me he likes to kick girls out after one-night-stands. Yep. Awkwardness, here we come.

Luckily I'm finally learning my way around the city and instead of getting lost every day, it's now down to every other day. And time seems to function differently. At home there's never enough and here there's just too much. Today I *thought* I needed to rush to class and ended up getting there 5 minutes early. And it's not just me that feels this way, either. It's almost like we've collectively wandered into another dimension.

My Spanish isn't really improving and I think it's because I haven't found anyone sufficiently interesting to have a conversation with. I would like to know where you go to find interesting people in Spain that don't give you strange looks when you say any combination of the following:
a) I try to avoid getting drunk.
b) Sometimes, instead of going out, I prefer to sleep.
c) I'm not interested in one-night-stands.
d) I'm American.
e) I'm Catholic.

However, there are good things. I think I might die from too much hot chocolate, which here has the consistency of a thick sauce and is 100% better than anything that ever called itself hot chocolate in the States.

sigh

2009-02-23T08:53:00.001-08:00

I found out yesterday that my Granny died on Friday. Please pray for her. I´m so sad that I´m stuck here while the funeral is going on as I write this. I´m trying to not just go around crying all the time because it´s pretty embarrassing and instead of asking what might be wrong people just look at me funny and move away, trying to be subtle. Just because I´m sad doesn´t make me a psycho, people.
Not having internet is killing me. Last night I tried to go to a mall where there is WiFi but there were no plugs for public use and my laptop had zero battery. I ended up using a free plug on a power strip next to these chairs that give you a massage for one euro. I got yelled at twice by a security guard telling me I couldn´t plug my computer in there, and couldn´t sit in the chairs unless I was paying for a massage. It was really frustrating...why advertise WiFi and not have any plugs? But luckily Bohumira´s mom and sister let me spend the night at their house so I got to Skype with everyone back home. Still, it´s just not the same. Now that my laptop is charged up I have a little more freedom and am going to try to Skype them later at a café or even at the mall.
On Friday I accidentally skipped my first class because I got confused about the time it was at, and today when I went the only people that turned up were four other international students who had also skipped on Friday (some less accidentally than others). There was a note on a desk at the front that said that NO ONE had shown up on Friday, but we weren´t sure who had written it or why, or what it means for the class the rest of the semester. I hope this class isn´t cancelled because I don´t know which other one I would take, and it´s also very frustrating that decisions seem to get made without informing anyone, but it also doesn´t seem right that no Spanish students would be enrolled in an upper-level class. Even just a non-cryptic note would be fine in terms of information, but doesn´t seem possible. Tomorrow apparently we don´t have classes because of Carnaval (which I don´t think I´ll participate in...it sounds like what happens when Halloween and Mardi Gras combine, and I don´t really feel like trying to find out what that´s like) so the earliest I´ll find out ANYTHING about this class is Friday. Great.
On the bright side salons here are super cheap and today a Portuguese woman waxed my eyebrows and said that the Americans before her had done a pathetic job.
Anyway, I have a lingering feeling that I´m just wasting time and money being here. This feeling doesn´t seem to bother the Erasmus students, who basically go to another country for a year after college to party with other Europeans from different countries and learn how to swear in a different language, but I don´t think I can be content with the Erasmus-style life 24/7. I´m trying to be grateful for the opportunity, especially because I think this is the last time in my life I have so much free time on my hands (and as a result may be the ONLY time a thought occurs to me like ¨well...I´m bored...guess I´ll write my thesis...¨), and not everyone gets to loaf around in Europe for six months, but I feel sickeningly unproductive so far, and a little like I´m just playing around and putting off a real life as long as possible.
Anyway, wish I could be home.

Oviedo

2009-02-19T05:55:00.000-08:00

So let´s go over the things I have now in Oviedo:
Apartment - check
Class schedule - check
Pending lawsuit - check...wait...what?

That´s right, I´ve learned a valuable lesson which may or may not cost me €250. The apartment that I thought I was going to rent when I saw the pictures online from the U.S. turned out to be a true rat-hole, in the most atrocious sense of the word. It was cramped and dark. The room I was supposed to be renting had bunk beds and a wall full of closets that actually turned out to not be that useful, since they were not actually deep enough for clothes hangers to fit. The window was about 2 x 1 ft., with a lovely view to an interior patio surrounded by large, gray, prison-like walls, and the space itself was barely big enough for three people to stand. It felt like I was renting an elevator. Also, when we walked in there was a boyfriend sitting casually on the couch (at least that´s who I think it was...it´s anybody´s guess since he didn´t introduce himself), and when I went back the next day my future roommate had hopped over to Germany and left garlic and onions and their peels on the table in the kitchen and cigarrettes in the ashtray. What a wonderful welcome gift! But the best part was when I lost my keys and ran all over the apartment looking in every possible place until I realized that they had fallen through a hole in the middle of the couch and were resting comfortably on the floor. So, add ¨sticking hand through a leather sofa¨ to my list of things I did in Europe.
So I didn´t sleep there at all, but the girl is saying that verbal agreements are legal contracts in Spain and that I owe her the whole month´s rent since she told other people no since I said I was coming, and that she´ll sue me if I don´t give her all the money by tomorrow. Everyone I talk to says that since I didn´t sign anything there´s really nothing she can do. I feel bad and am vascillating between losing all the money and only giving her the equivalent of the time I had the keys, which hasn´t even been a week. I want to puke when I think of both the apartment and losing 250€ for absolutely nothing.
But apart from that I found another apartment which is 100% better...50€ cheaper, closer to the university, and entire wall of window in my room, new appliances, two bathrooms, closets I can actually use, and a landlord who is only a year older than me and is already introducing me to his friends, some of whom have turned out to be incredibly helpful in helping find things on campus. I think we´ll get along well...so far he´s been very honest and direct. I even got to meet his parents because they were helping clean the apartment up when I came to visit and his mom was so cute and friendly.
So I´m happy for the moment, but the only thing is that we haven´t gotten internet yet so I STILL can´t post pictures. I start classes tomorrow. I´m finally excited about them. This entire time the fact that I´ll be taking classes has really been the part I´m least excited about, but after talking to some people in the university, I think they´ll be interesting. I´m just not sure what I´ll do with all the free time it looks like I´ll have. I wanted to take a translation course here but I´m not sure if it´ll conflict with the doctoral course I´m taking.
When I can finally connect with my laptop I´ll be sure to write about my adventures in France post-Paris. Lourdes was absolutely magical even though most of the time I was soaked through to the bone (although paradoxically practically the only time I was dry was after getting out of ¨the¨ baths there), I spent a ridiculous amount of time trying not to get poked in the eyes from the umbrellas of European women trying to avoid getting their fur coats wet, and everyone kept speaking to me in Italian, only about half of which I understood, and if I responded to them in Spanish they gave me the strangest looks. My trip from Lourdes to Toulouse included a two-hour long intense but good-natured argument in a mix of Spanish and French about Christ´s divinity and original sin with a French guy named Raphaël who knew the Bible surprisingly well and swore he was unaware of exactly which heretical group he belonged to, in which a French Franciscan Friar for the Renewal and his mother got involved. Afterwards he bought me two coffees and offered to buy me food and even helped me with my luggage, which was unexpected and nice, although we drank the coffees in a kind of awkward silence.
And then followed quite a tiring journey, although it went through what I decided was the perfect place to live. On the left of the bus were snow-covered mountains and floating patches of mist and on the right was a bright blue ocean, and in-between were what looked like centuries-old houses in tiny little towns that each had at least three churches. And the sun was shining and I felt like I had accidentally wandered into Lord of the Rings...the good part...not Mordor...
When I got to Oviedo I met my friend Bohumira´s mom and sister who totally welcomed me and were very nice in showing me around and letting me stay with them.
So...I have a couple more hours to decide how much money to leave this girl and continue to unpack my things. The weather here is gorgeous and is completely the opposite of everything I had heard about Oviedo before. All anyone could ever talk about was rain and cold, but ever since I got here the sun has been out and it hasn´t been all that chilly, although I am glad that I brought my coat. The city itself is beautiful and it really is so easy to walk around, except that the almost universal lack of street signs or plaques or anything that might provide some information about where you are located sometimes does present a problem, especially with old, narrow, winding streets.
The academic process hasn´t been all that difficult, either, except that apparently it is universally recognized both inside and outside of my department that the guy that I´m supposed to talk to (the one in charge of my studies here and who is supposed to sign off on my classes) is never in his office. I have the feeling that I won´t meet him until the day before I leave, and until then he´ll remain a phantom whose existence I doubt from time to time, although he is one of my professor´s cousins and she said that he likes to party and will probably take me out drinking. All in all, everything I´ve heard about this mysterious character has led to a kind of a strange impression of him so far.
Alright, on to decide how much money I´m going to lose!

Paris, encore

2009-02-09T09:51:00.000-08:00

I apologize for no pictures so far, which was one of the reasons for starting this whole thing. Hopefully in Spain the "Add pictures" thing will work.
Yesterday was indeed a full day. Early in the morning I went to the Sacré Coeur for what my guidebook had described as "choir practice" at 9:45 a.m. Despite having been warned by several people about the Africans who shamelessly hawk cheap friendship bracelets to unsuspecting tourists, I decided to brave the main stairs. Instead of deterring me, those warnings had kind of piqued my curiosity, and I also thought that since it was early it really couldn't be that bad. Little did I know that I should have been prepared to tackle, because four of them tried to form a line that I had to try to run and break through wearing my best scowl, which I did successfully, making me feel like a football star. The one that I had crashed into while running past yelled something after me about not being nice, but I felt quite satisfied.
Sacré Coeur was incredibly beautiful, and the Mass inside it was also quite lovely. I've never heard an organ like that. When it played right before Mass started, it felt like an army was marching behind me, just an enormous wall of harmony that started soft and got louder and louder the closer it got to Mass. It was amazing and for me quite unexpected.
I didn't know that there was an order of nuns created when the Sacré Coeur was built in order to minister to everyone that comes, as well as to take care of the Blessed Sacrament (exposed there all the time, so that at every moment someone can look up and know that someone is up there praying for them). After Mass, they mentioned that any pilgrims could go eat lunch with the nuns. Silly me, I thought that it would be free, but it ended up being a reasonable price for what we got.
And what we got ended up being exactly what I wanted. The downside to traveling alone is that eating alone in restaurants isn't very fun, and I'm a little more hesitant to go out at night than I would be if I had someone with me. But it turns out that for 12 euros I got a four-course meal with wine, and three friendly French-speaking dining companions who were all very faithful Catholics and didn't mind that my French was by no means perfect (I know...hard to believe, but true!). One of them was Moroccan and gave me great tips on where to stay in Lourdes and Lisieux and even in Paris (turns out you can stay with the nuns and it's really cheap, something like 30 euros including ALL meals), and had some very interesting things to say about being Catholic, and the other two were French. We had a great conversation and the best part was that we all had considered not going there for some reason that day, but something had made us go. So, I was finally able to have a truly French meal (my first time trying paté, and it was actually really good!) and actually got to meet and talk to locals, something that would have otherwise been virtually impossible.
Seeing as the Moroccan woman had told me that I could stay with the sisters, I went to ask them afterwards if they had some information I could take with me, and the sister said yes and told me to wait for her. Since my comprehension isn't 100%, I wasn't sure what was going on, but it ended up that out came a sister from England, and we ended up having quite a long conversation that ranged from general feelings about Obama to World Youth Day and the Williamson controversy (which, sadly, is huge in Europe right now). She was really nice and gave me information on good times to come back and stay with them if I wanted to, and told me to email her just to give her updates on how things were going.
So after that I took the side stairs, avoiding the crowds that had since accumulated now that it was afternoon, and decided to go visit St. Vincent de Paul. After seeing him, I walked way longer than I should have while I was trying to find another church, St. Germain-des-Prés, due to the fact that I don't seem to be able to correctly interpret a map to save my life. But it was alright, because Paris seems to be the perfect place to get lost and even to wander aimlessly. I eventually found St. Germain-des-Prés, right next to where Sartre and Hemingway used to hang out. And when I walk in, what do I find but a Mass in Spanish! And the priest wasn't Spanish, either...in fact, I could have sworn he was Mexican, and the songs were exactly the same as the Spanish Mass at St. Paul's in Lexington, even including the song to the tune of Blowin' in the Wind and the Sound of Silence Our Father. There were quite a few Spanish-speakers there from Spain and Latin America, which really surprised me, and I couldn't find a real explanation anywhere except a simple description of the Mass as being for the "Spanish-speaking community". Of course, there were also a few French people there who looked a little lost and distracted, including a little old lady who asked me after Mass in French if I understood Spanish and if I could tell her what announcements the priest had made...it was truly bizarre.
Afterwards I finally got to have my nutella and banana crèpe and amused myself by looking at shops that look like they are so hidden on narrow, winding streets that no one could ever find them except by accident, and then it turns out that they are Prada or other ridiculously expensive designer stores.
And then today...I was too tempted by sleeping in to head to the Louvre as I had planned, but I did venture out into the rain to visit the Middle Ages museum in the afternoon, which I really liked. It ended up that I went at the perfect time, because it seemed like no matter where I was there was a group of school children on a tour, and apparently the language used to tell 10-year-olds about the Middle Ages is right at my level of French comprehension, so my visit was quite educational even though I was too cheap to pay for the Audio tour. I kept trying to pretend that I really wasn't that interested in what the children's guides were saying by staring determinedly at tapestries, but really I was hanging onto every word.
I tried to go to the Sainte-Chappelle after that, but it was (of course) closed. So then I thought that I'd just go to Notre Dame again and ended up getting picked up by a French guy who said he would accompany me to the Cathedral and then treat me to a drink. He was pretty amusing and I really just wanted to know what he would say, and since I didn't have any plans I said okay.
But boy, did his audacity exceed my feeble American expectations! He managed to turn every single thing I said into a pick-up line. It was hilarious. And he kept trying even while I sat there laughing at him! Here is a sample:

Me: So where do you live in Paris?
French guy: A little outside the city. It's a nice house. Would you like to see it?

And another:
French guy: Have you gone up the Eiffel Tower?
Me: No, not this time. It's too expensive.
French guy: I'll pay for you! Let's go!

And here is my best translation of what I consider to be the funniest thing he said:
French guy: So what are your plans for later?
Me: Go back to my hotel and pack.
French guy: Don't you need someone to help you close your suitcase?

Anyway, despite all of his most valiant efforts (most of which are unfit to type), I made it very clear that I could close my own suitcase quite well, thank you. He didn't try to follow me or anything, which was quite a relief, but did ask for my email because he said he wanted to visit me in Spain in May. I couldn't believe that anyone could say such ridiculous things and yet be so sincere, but the whole encounter did give me a great laugh and allowed me to use the verb "draguer" (to hit on, as in "Do you make a habit of hitting on American girls?") in conversation, which I have been wanting to do ever since I learned that word in French 101.
So, I bought some pastries and went back to my apartment and will start packing. Tomorrow the transport service is coming at 9:30 to take me to the airport, where I have a full day of traveling...a flight to Toulouse and then a train from Toulouse to Lourdes. So far I haven't planned anything in Lourdes...I'm kind of expecting it to be rewarding enough just to walk outside and see pretty much anything and start talking to the other pilgrims, but I'm also thinking that I should probably start looking up events so that I don't miss out on something.

À Paris!

2009-02-07T10:24:00.000-08:00

Well, I made it to Paris. So far I've occupied myself with a lot of walking and eating, as well as art-admiring and generally making a fool of myself in French.
So...remember when I said that one of the first things I would do would be to see St. Catherine Labouré at the Chapel of the Miraculous Medal? And when I booked my hotel specifically because it's on the same Métro line? Well, I did make it on my first day here, only to find out that St. Catherine is "fermée" (closed) and the chapel itself is a huge mess due to construction, which will be ongoing until April.
So after being incredibly disappointed, I headed to Notre Dame, which sort of made up for everything. And then I took a 3 1/2 hour free walking tour, which was awesome, even though my feet were throbbing by the end because of my quest to defy the image of Americans in comfortable shoes.
Today I went to the Musée D'Orsay with a Colombian girl I met on the tour and felt like I wanted to stay all day. It was so strange to see paintings from the same artists, and sometimes even the same series of paintings, that I saw in Chicago the day that I left for Europe. I never would have imagined that I'd see so many Van Goghs and Monets in the same week.
And I intend to continue! I have two days left. Tomorrow I'll make my way to see the Sacré Coeur and hopefully go to Mass there, and then I'm planning on finding the cheapest Nutella crèpe. I rested today after the Museum because I felt like I was going to collapse, so I should be ready to take on the Sunday crowds of tourists tomorrow. I also might try to see Cluny, the Middle Age museum, and if it's sunny the Sainte-Chappelle. On Monday I think I may try to take on the Louvre until I faint from too much culture and beauty, although I'm trying to prevent that from happening by watching French Entertainment Tonight-type celebrity gossip shows.
Apart from that, I love where I'm staying. It's in a great location, right across from a church, and is surrounded by a ton of interesting shops and bakeries. I bought food to cook at home on the little stove here for really cheap and can thus justify spending my hard-earned paychecks on ridiculously complicated and delicious pastries.
I'm getting along surprisingly well with my French, although so far I've gotten away with speaking a crazy mix of French, Spanish and English most of the time. I enjoy being mistaken for a native Spanish speaker as I think, perhaps erroneously, that it is infinitely better than being recognized as American. Yesterday was crazy, though, as Spanish kept popping up everywhere in the most unexpected places, including a band of guys from Peru, Bolivia and Chile in the subway and French people spontaneously wanting to practice their español.
I will try to add pictures on here once I figure this out.