Days 65-66, Little Preparations

So, on day 65, Tuesday, I finally arrived in Madrid!  Thanks to help from a bishop here in Madrid, I'd made arrangements to live with an Hermana Soto, and I found my way to her place with relative ease--as much ease as my fatty bag and bulky backpack would allow at least.  And I even got up the nerve to ask a couple of people for help!

Now, I knew going into it that Hermana Soto's room for me had to bed but that they had a blowup mattress.  It turns out that the place isn't hers, though; in fact, it belongs to the poor invalid woman she cares for, a frail thing that is confined to a bed or a wheelchair, staring out the window and scratching here knee all day.  The viejita (as Hrma Soto calls her) can't hear and says something like, "Oye," every once in a while.  As I sat in the same room as her, I could smell that familiar smell, that one particular to old people in diapers, too weak to do much more than breathe.  It reminded me of old folks' homes I've been to, and of when my grandparents were dying.  I looked around the room and saw old pictures of what this woman looked like, and I wondered who she once was, picturing her more lively and chattery, like the younger old Spaniard women I've observed here.

The place itself was small, old and run-down, meager to say the least.  And yet Hrma Soto was still willing to take me in.  On top of all that, I found out that she only recently found out she has breast cancer and that much of her family is poor, still in South America or barely getting by in the States.  I had planned to just stay with her, but once I arrived, I just couldn't feel settled, contemplating how I could find another place.  I even considered how much it'd cost to stay in a hostel for the entire time (but that wouldn't be as good for learning Spanish).  Thankfully, as soon as I opened my email, I saw some messages from one of my professors, telling me that I should contact a woman named Teresa, someone he taught on his mission years ago.  Wonderful!

I eventually made it out of the house to finally eat and get money on my phone to call Teresa.  While out, I ended up wandering, wandering, wandering, until I ended up at the Plaza Mayor.  I'm not gonna lie, I was a bit disappointed; I expected something fancier and grander.  Just outside of it was a market that reminded me of Pike's Place in Seattle!  While in the vicinity, an Argentinean couple asked me where we were on their tourist map, but I couldn't tell them because I was still on the hunt for a map myself!  They invited me to join them, which I eventually decided to do.  Together, we found the Catedral de la Almudena and the Palacio Real!

After that bit of sightseeing, I was finally able to charge my phone and call Teresa.  She invited me over to scope it out before making a decision.  Some metro stops and five flights of stairs later, she greeted me at her door.  She welcomed me in and I was delighted to see her place was in much better condition, and I just felt good about it.  In short, I decided to stay with her. 

Back at Hrma Soto's place, I sheepishly told her I was going someplace else.  I felt like a heel after what they'd done for me, even to the extent of manually pumping up the mattress and putting sheets on it, but I did write her a note and leave her some money.  She tried to return it, even putting her hands on her hips and giving me defiant look with that small, short frame of hers, but I copied her and insisted she keep it.  While there, I met a set of sister missionaries (one of which is from WA and knows my cousin), who were there to teach Karen, a girl who also lives with Hrma Soto and the viejita.  They were all so sweet to me, and the sisters even insisted on helping carry my stuff to the metro!

On day 66, Wednesday, I planned to go to the temple to make a reservation for later and then go to the Biblioteca Nacional to see original 17th century texts for my thesis.  The night before, I looked up something related to the temple in my scriptures, and that morning I decided to wear a skirt to go in to make the reserva.  On my way there on the metro, I had the thought, "What if I end up doing baptisms for the dead today?  Would I have time?  Would I do it?"  The next thing I knew, I saw a couple that looked suspiciously like an LDS American couple dressed up in Sunday clothes.  My suspicions were confirmed when I saw their missionary name tags!  They showed me the way to the temple, and it turns out that they are the senior couple in charge of the institute and YSA activities here!

Check out what I found:

As soon as I saw it, something in me came to life, something I hadn't realized was missing.  I used to think the Madrid temple was...not to my taste, but I quickly realized that its designs reflect the history and culture of the region, complete with patterns reminiscent of ones I saw in Granada and Sevilla.  Beautiful!  Oh, how good it felt to be there!  I walked in, asked for a reservation, and the old man behind the desk motioned for me to go at that very moment!  Hmm, good thing I happened to think to bring my recommend, that I was in a skirt already, and that the possibility had already crossed my mind--oh yeah, and that I've lived such that I feel good about going in!

Once in the baptistry area, I found that the main group of youth was from Portugal and that there were a few people from France and a few others from the States.  My week in Portugal proved helpful in understanding the temple president's Portunol message, and I loved that I was in a room that, as he described it, was a mini Tower of Babel, filled with languages I recognized.  I would love to be a temple worker in such a place.  Maybe one day when I'm old a gray.  :)


Some time later, I made it to the Biblioteca Nacional, got my new carne to enter, came back to my new place, and was received by Teresa, who immediately threw a plate of food together for me.  I had been planning on going to institute, but along the way I kept thinking, "What if I don't go?  I'm not actually going.  What if Teresa offers me dinner?  I don't want to offend her by rejecting it to hurry off to institute."  You can guess what happened.

Hmm, it seems that Heavenly Father prepared me for each step of the way with little thoughts along the way.  He tends to do that.  :D

Days 62-64, Obrigada, Portugal

I realize I have fallen terribly behind, but traveling around with limited time on the internet and wanting to describe so much makes it hard to write or even attempt to write all that I could say.  How about I let this handsome Fado singer and his accompanists say it for me? 

Day 61, Word Games

As much as I do love to talk, this morning was one where I was quite content to listen.  Why didn’t I talk much?  Because Ashlee and I accompanied Ben and his teacher in going to the Castelo São Jorge that sits on the hill adjoining our hostel, and since it was his Portuguese tutoring time, his teacher said that it would be Portuguese-only…I don’t speak Portuguese.  But why was I content about it?  Well, as a linguist in Spanish, I have learned about patterns regarding how Latin evolved over time, eventually getting divided politically into languages such as Spanish, French, Portuguese, and Italian.  And I did sit in on a Portuguese 101 class for three weeks.  At any rate, I was fascinated by how much I could understand of what Ben’s teacher said, and I understood most everything that Ben and Ashlee said in Portuguese.  Haha, even when Ben and his teacher had to sit down (after we wandered through the old castle grounds and some Moorish ruins from 200 BC) to correct his homework and he told us we didn’t have to feel like we had to stick around for that, Ashlee was content to stay because it was Portuguese and she loves it, and I was simply enthralled with the language that is foreign to me.  Hah, and Ben thought I was being sarcastic!

Honestly, it surprises me just how much I can understand without really having studied the language much, all based on having learned some general rules and patterns both within the language itself and in relation to its similarities with Spanish.  The frustrating thing is that even if/when I understand a question, I don’t know how to respond!  Yeah, that became an issue in the restaurant we ate in for lunch.  I had just had some real genuine Portuguese food, bacalhau a mintronha, and I got up to fill my water bottle in the bathroom sink so as not to have to pay for it, when the lovely waitress serving us took the bottle from me, offering to fill it up.  I understood her words and question, answering that I wanted cold water rather than natural water, but then I wondered if they’d give me bottled water rather than tap water and that then I’d have to pay.  I tried to protest having to pay, but words failed me, and my mind became a jumbled mess of Spanish, French, English, and potentially made-up Portuguese words and fragments.  Thankfully, Ben’s teacher was nearby, so it got resolved pretty easily, but it did show me how important it is to learn to speak a language and not wholly rely on the fact that “most” people know some English.  And it turns out that the waitress was really simply being kind and that the water was free!  Yay, tasty, cold water!

Lunch over, Ben's teacher left us to our own vices.  ;)  Really, though, we aren't terrible troublemakers and our main plan for the afternoon was to venture across the water to see Cristo Rei up close and personal!  To do so, we simple had to take a ferry.  I loved it!  I only wish we could've been on the deck rather than inside.

 The view on the way over on the ferry

 Cristo Rei

 Cheesy picture?  Sure, but we could've been anywhere in the world, lounging on the grass together.  But where did we go to do it?  The shade under a tree in front of Cristo Rei.

 

From way up there, we saw a domed building that looked interested, so why not check it out?  Using Ben's man-sense of direction and our woman intuition, we eventually found it, "it" being the city Panteão.  Unfortunately, our little hunt in the heat ended we we found it and learned that it had closed only minutes before.  Oh well, that mean we could go to the movies sooner and buy ourselves some theater candy and drinks.  :D

At the movies, we watched X-Men: First Class, which was quite violent but intriguing.  Perhaps one of the best parts, aside from the polyglot nature of the film, was the Portuguese pronunciation of it: "sheez man."  But on our way over,  we played word games with Ben's Kindle's dictionary.  Yes, we thought of it all on our own. It had started as word meaning and etymology look-ups for stuff like "cloister" and "effigy," but it became a guessing game of reading definitions and guessing the words.  And we had a blast.  Nerds, totally and completely.  Another unexciting but very contented moment for me.  :D

Day 60, Little Moments of Freedom and Free-ness

This is the second holiday I’ve been able to benefit from while here in Europe.  Not that I’ve celebrated anything, unless you call free days from school and touristing celebrating.  :D  This time around, we went to Belem so that Ashlee could finally try some real pasteis de Belem (a custardy dessert from Belem), which are supposedly more or less the same as pasteis de nata, except with a secret ingredient unique to a particular restaurant in Belem, a suburb of Lisbon.

We were going to hit up the nearby cathedral next, but there was a sick line of tourists.  Come to find out, it was because there was a special mass for the day’s Corpo de Deus (Body of God) holiday.  Fancy that—a special mass for the holiday!  Of course, it made sense; we just hadn’t considered it.  So, instead, we went to the waterfront and enjoyed the view, a monument, and a stone tower.  Hehe, Ben and Ashlee talked to each other, wondering whether or not there was a plaque for the monument, but concluding that nobody would read it—unless they were me, which they immediately  realized was true because at that very moment I was reading something inscribed on the monument!  So I’m a nerd and like to know stuff.  I admit it.

After taking advantage of the freedom from school thanks to the national holiday and its accompanying free-ness at national monuments such as the stone tower and the cloister adjoining the Belem Cathedral, which is where the famous Portuguese author, Camoes, is entombed, we went back into the city to see Ben’s place and let him show us around some spots in town that he’s found while being here.  One was a massive sloping hill that revealed a marvelous view of the city once at the top, and another was along the waterfront by a huge mall.  I don’t particularly enjoy hiking, but I do love walking and talking with my friends, occasionally stopping to sit and enjoy the scenery.  We’ve done all of the above, and I love soaking it in!  I don’t even remember much of what we talked about, but simple things like laughing at a seagull struggling to fly against the wind, causing it to go in circles, and singing “Dynamite” together—or at least the bits and pieces we scrapped together from memory—are what make it happy for me.

We ended our Portuguese holiday in a veritably Portuguese manner by eating genuine Portuguese food: Chili’s!  Okay, so it was very much American, but it’s funny just how much American things me manquent, and it’s here in Portugal and the menu was mostly in Portuguese, so it counts, right?

The Belem Cathedral

The Belem Tower  (pics below are from its cellar)

Look at me!  Forget My Size Barbie; I could have my own My Size Door!

The one little "skylight" in the room that allowed Ben to stand up straight.  Note the arch behind Ashlee as a point of reference for how low the ceiling was!

The massive sloping hill.  (I spy a castle!)

Day 59, Ups and Downs

No sooner had we gotten settled into our Lisbon hostel than Ashlee informed me of her many plans for the area.  We are here, by golly, and we will see sights!  She didn't say that, but we are here because she wanted to come and I thought it'd be fun.  Really, I know next to nothing about Portuguese history, unless you count a bit that is related to Spanish history.  In other words, I am here, along for a ride, and Ashlee clearly has some plans (which I somewhat expected, but it did surprise me how much more planned out our time here would be, as opposed to showing up in a place and picking what looked interesting on a map).  But hey, at least she knows what's going down!

As a result of Ashlee's planning and inquiring, we agreed upon going to the neighboring town of Sintra for the day while Ben would be in class, meeting him later for dinner.  Our round-trip train ticket was a reasonable few euros--once we finally found the train station, but only after wandering around trying to remember a map we'd seen so we could find the station and its nearby tourist information center, where we could procure a map of our own of the city.  After going steeply uphill and then realizing we needed to come back down, we finally had success and made it onto our train, maps and tickets in hand.

Forty minutes-ish after leaving central Lisbon, we arrived in Sintra, where we found out that the bus to take us up the mountain would provide a round-trip ticket in exchange for just under 5 euros.  At the end of our bus ride, we discovered just how much a peek at the Palacio de Pena's interior cost: 12 euros!  To further taunt us, there was a trolley car inside the entrance gates to take tourists the rest of the way up--but at a fee, of course.  Disgusted at how much we'd already spent, we opted to do the final leg a pie, without the trolley car, while hoping to get our money's worth.  We decided that a roller coaster to bring us back down would be the only thing to make it worth all of our money spent.  :D

The Pena Palace was certainly a unique structure.  Finally, after a couple of glimpses from the train and at the ticket entrance, and after short jaunt up the mountain, we saw it with our own eyes!  It was originally some sort of Moorish monastery, later converted into some sort of palace.  Its exterior is divided into three main parts, as can be seen in the distinct color themes of each segment.

Next, we headed back down to catch a bus, skipping on the Moorish castle in favor of the Quinta da Regaleira.  In the process, we went up and down and up and down...and up again.  And yes, we made the bus into our own roller coaster ride, complete with throwing our hands in the air!  The vistas, gardens, and hidden doors and tunnels additionally helped make it all worthwhile.

Moorish Castle from a tower in the Quinta da Regaleira gardens

The Quinta da Regaleira itself (a fancy, custom-designed house)

Then "tenebrous" and "phantasmagorical" Initiatic Well, where "Heaven and Earth meet".

Hidden tunnel, anyone?

 Having had our fill of the mountainous landscape and costly monuments, we came back into the city, eventually meeting up with Ben.  I had just mentioned how sick and tired I was of stairs and hills, commenting that our uphill-downhill misadventure to find the train station was a foreshadowing (adumbration, if you will) of the rest of my day, when he informed us that FHE would be an down-up walk.  Oh, Heavenly Father has quite the sense of humor.  But just liken it to life and you can see that every day is filled with its ups and downs, its highs and lows, its rewards and losses.  And yet, somehow all the struggles and hard work do pay off, allowing us to rise above to a higher level, stunning us with marvelous vistas.

Day 58, Life is Wonderful (At Home and in Portugal)

Although Lagos was beautiful and wonderful, we had to leave today. We wandered around town a little before having to check out of the hostel, but there wasn’t much to see since the town is highly based on water activities, restaurants, and souvenir shops. We waited around long enough to check out, buy some delicious gelato, buy our train tickets, and eat some good ol’ Pizza Hut pizza. Then, it was train time. And then waiting time, which was followed by more train time, but at least this one was air conditioned! We ended up having seats next to a pleasant, old Portuguese man, who ended up chatting it up with Ben. I was quite content to listen in, surprised at how much I could understand, despite not having studied Portuguese much. Honestly, I was going off what I knew of Spanish, Romance language patterns, and three weeks of sitting in on a Portuguese 101 class. But I could follow pretty well what he was saying! Hmm, maybe I will try harder to learn Portuguese.

Next, we took on the Lisbon metro, but it is many times smaller and less complex than the one in Paris, being comprised of only four metro lines, so I’ve already figured it out.  It helped, too, that Ben knows the place and could show us the ropes a bit. We soon arrived at our stop, and then we hunted down the hostel where Ashlee and I are staying. That done, we promptly went for dinner at a kebab shop and bought some pasteis de nata to eat on the Lisbon marina by the Praça do Comercio.

As a side note, I've found a benefit of  having Ben, a tall, strong guy around: He's helped carry my fatty bag up and down stairs in Lagos at the hostel and the train station and here in Lisbon in the metro and the hostel again.  Although I could've managed, it would've taken longer, not to mention that he probably is stronger and is definitely taller, so it's not such a struggle to keep the bag above each step!  Oh, and it's nice to have one more friend around, even though my height becomes a frequent object of joking.  I have a new nickname: Shortarms.  Or, as Ashlee said, Tinylegs.  Such is my life among tall friends.  :D

Ben's perspective

Ashlee's perspective

Lisbon is on a Peninsula, bounded by the ocean and a river. I looked out and saw the Cristo Rey, a bridge reminiscent of the Golden Gate Bridge, a giant crane, ferries, and lots of hills and towns on the other side of the water. And you know what it made me think of? Home. Why? Because I grew up on a peninsula. I could easily see a bridge and large industrial equipment just across the water, dotted with the occasional ferry. I drove frequently along the water’s edge to arrive at school on the hilly other side of the body of water. Really, it is uncannily like the view from my hometown. Yeah, my hometown is no big deal like Lisbon, but it’s home and I miss it.   Take a guess as to which place is in which picture.

Thankfully, I had Ben and Ashlee’s company and sunshine with a breeze to keep my spirits up.  And I feel very content to be here!  Like, the happy kind that is okay with being in a strange place without having everything planned and is still at peace  Every day that I’m here, I think, “Wow. I’m in ___. Crazy!” And yesterday, I pointed out to my friends that it truly is incredible how well the timing has worked out for us to be here. I mean, really, it’s not every summer that someone goes to Europe, and then for the three of us to come out here, at the same time, and to meet up half a world away—amazing! And today, Ben was telling me that when I’m older I’ll see more that life takes unexpected turns that lead you to think, “How did I end up here?!” Oh, Ben, I’ve already seen that in my life, especially when it comes to my education, my interests, and my present trip to Europe. I can only imagine where I’ll end up weeks, months, or years from now, but at least I have the comfort of knowing one thing: With God, it can only turn out even better than what I can ever imagine!

PS Happy Summer Solstice!

Day 57, Beautiful Friends and Beaches

Well, it’s time to say adios to Spain and bom dia to Portugal! We took the early bus to Lagos, a tourist city on the Southern coast of Portugal, leaving at 7:30 am and arriving just after 12:30 pm. We were earlier than expected, and the directions to our hostel weren’t as simple or clear as we needed, so we made it to the hostel an hour later. Upon checking in and checking out our room, we realized that we had accidentally walked right by the hostel, just one street over! Our view was amazing, looking right over the Atlantic Ocean! Even though I felt gross and sweaty, the weather was a welcomed “cooler” than hot, hot Sevilla. Now, all we needed to do was wait for our friend and colleague, Ben, who is studying Portuguese in Lisbon and came to meet up with us in Lagos. Little did we know, but Portugal is one hour earlier than Spain and France, so while we were busy smack-talking Ben for being “late” to meet us, he was unsuspectingly reading on his Kindle and deciding to come back to the hostel “early.” Whoops, misunderstanding! Here we’d agree to meet between 1:30 and 2:00, but because we didn’t know about the time change, there was a disconnect in schedules. Oh, well, the important thing is that we found each other!

Ben arrived the afternoon before us, so he was ready to show us a few spots in the area and suggest some activities. In no time, we were out at the beach, swimming in the Atlantic, climbing on rocks to pretend like mer-people, climbing through tunnels, dodging rocks to swim through arches, and soaking our feet in the sand.

The Little Mermaid--in real life!

Later, we took a “walk” along the coast, one that was designated on our map. However, the path was not as clearly marked as the map led us to believe, so it was mostly a hike, led by Ben’s “man-sense of direction.” Nevertheless, he did successfully lead us to the lighthouse and the grottenfahrt (“grotto,” if you will) intended! All along the way were amazing vistas and picturesque views of beach, coast, boats, and ocean.

And as hard to believe as it may sound, the vistas were further improved by the smiling faces of three friends from school having fun in a foreign land!
 

Behold, the Grottenfahrt (continued in the second picture)!

 

Also, as much fun as it is to be with Ashlee and Ben and to joke with them, it wasn’t long before Ben’s witty (and sometimes rude) comments came out. In one conversation, over lunch, he called me both Dr. Turley and Dr. Fails, the former because I used “puzzle” as a verb, and the latter because I explained in linguistic terms something Ben had said that Ashlee didn’t get from Ben’s mere examples. Silly Ben. But he can be very complimentary and thoughtful when he wants to be, too, and it has been good to be together and laugh. We’ve done that a lot so far.  Of course, part of the best of it is that we can make nerdy linguistic jokes or references to other jokes/previous conversations/inside jokes and they make sense.  Awesome!

Day 56, Missing Church

As hard as Ashlee tried, we still ended up missing church, which really ate at Ashlee because, for one reason or another, she’s missed church for five or six weeks consecutively now. Last Sunday we left late and our trip into the city didn’t even leave us enough time to try finding the church in time for sacrament; this week, we left with plenty of time to make it at least to the 11:50 am ward, if not to the 10:30. Saturday night, Ashlee spent a good while trying to figure out the bus routes and the map with the church address to make sure we’d make it this time. Everything went well with the buses, but it turns out that the hard part was understanding the physical address for the church building itself. Ashlee asked one couple or individual after another, and we ended up following directions taking us farther and farther away from where we thought the church should be, only to find out that most of the people had thought of a different but similarly named street, so we walked back the way we’d come for a half hour, asked an old couple who pointed us to a spot a few streets away, and then Ashlee hailed a couple of old men dressed in their Sunday best, thinking they surely must have been members of our church. Like so many Spaniards we’ve met, they were indeed willing to help, even going so far as to direct us around a sketchy neighborhood. And this time, they knew what church we were talking about, rather than just a street name they thought they recognized! Unfortunately, at this point, we’d already missed the first ward by a long shot and the second ward’s sacrament would be over by the time we walked as lejitos as the two old men described the church to be. They had other plans in mind anyway.

It turns out that the two of them were Jehovah’s Witnesses, and they decided to try telling us about their church, but it took us a little bit to make the connection regarding what church they belonged to. The one old man who was doing most of the talking already then took it upon himself to try explaining to us why they were the right ones, believing in only the Bible as the word of God, none of this extra Book of Mormon business. Of course, he was not so bluntly descending towards us, but it became quickly evident that neither party was going to convert the other. The man had had discussions with missionaries and had read a small part of the Book of Mormon, so I should’ve expected him to be ready for my rebuttal about the commandment at the end of Revelations to not add to the Bible by using the scripture mastery in Ezekiel 37: 15-17. I used to think that that scripture really was the answer to the issue and that it would defeat any other arguments. So naïve! Once we found the scripture and read it, he immediately proceeded to tell us about Jewish history and the need for the tribes of Israel to unite, explaining that scripture I’d just read about the sticks of Judah and Ephraim was a prophecy, a warning to the House of Israel. I believe that that very well could’ve been one interpretation for the scripture, but what stuck out to me most in my mind was the fact that Satan is very subtle in his means of twisting the truth. Had I not had a strong testimony in the truthfulness of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, I’d’ve been swayed to believe them because he sure seemed to know his history and he was very confident. But I know that regardless of what he says, the Book of Mormon is an inspired record testifying of Christ and his gospel, and anyone truly willing to listen and perhaps become converted would be open to our interpretation of the sticks of Judah and Ephraim when we say they represent the uniting of the Bible and the Book of Mormon because Moses and others wrote the Bible and Nephi and other descendants of Ephraim wrote The Book of Mormon. This old man debating with us was kind in giving us directions to our church, but he was set in his ways, trying to convince us we were wrong in our beliefs.

I honestly don’t know how to rebut his explanation of Ezek. 37:15-17, but I realize that I shouldn’t have to. The ones who are ready to hear the happy message of the gospel will at least give the Book of Mormon a chance. If they then decide that it’s not for them, then none of this Church is. But, on the other hand, if they feel that it is a holy book, then the rest of what we have to share will only further serve to enlighten them. I would much rather explain my beliefs, odd or different as they may seem at first, to people like my Canadian friend, Erin, or my best friend from home, Lisa, than to attempt a debate with someone who is ready to argue every point I make. As much as I’d love for them to convert and be members of the Church with me, I do greatly appreciate their respect and desire and willingness to listen and learn about what is important to me. There’s a difference in attitude, and it is palpable. And everyone has their moral agency, so, by all means, each person can decide individually what to do. But listening first can make all the difference in what decision is made or how an opinion is formed. A big thank you to all who do respect me and my beliefs, whether they are shared or not! :D

Church having been missed, Ashlee and I checked out the outside of the Macarena Arch and the Macarena Basílica Menor (not interesting enough to merit pictures), as well as the murallas that remain in the city (seen below).

On our long walk back on the hot Sevillan day, we also passed through a part of the Alcázar gardens. Back at the hostel, we watched the new version of the Joseph Smith: Prophet of the Restoration video on YouTube. (While watching, I realized that the four years Joseph Smith had to wait before obtaining the plates that the Book of Mormon was translated from were to teach and prepare him, yes, but also to help him appreciate the plates more so he would be better able and determined to protect the plates when the trials came later.)

Before going to bed, I went and checked out the terraza on the top of our hostel.  Just two blocks in the distance I could see the cathedral we just visited!  I came out just as the sun was setting, so I grabbed my camera and took some pictures. 

 

 I sat until it was darker to take more, night pictures. (Ashlee even took a pic.  Maybe this one.)

In the meantime, I had a nice moment by myself on that rooftop, gazing up into the heavens.  I thought on all that I've been able to do in the past few years and where my life has brought me and might take me.  I have so many to thank for influencing my decisions and shaping my life--my parents and best friend from home for encouraging me to learn and continue studying Spanish, my sister for encouraging me to get an MA, her friend for encouraging me to study Spanish as an MA, professors for giving me advice, my students who made my job enjoyable and helped me earn money to spend here in Europe on this trip of a lifetime, and my God for watching over me.  Even though I was in a large, busy city, I was on a rooftop enjoying some solitudinous gratitude.  I really don't deserve all I've been blessed with.

All in all, an day that turned out completely different than what I expected, but a day for pondering and learning.

Day 55, Pigeon Punting and a Missing Phoneme

If you aren't careful, you might miss something vital.  For example, thanks to some advice from that American guy who sat across from me on the train ride, we looked into visiting the Royal Alcázar.  We were considering going to Cordoba to see the Mezquita, but then we realized it'd cost us upwards of 35 euros plus the traveling costs, so we opted to take the American's advice. Besides, I love old, historic things and Ashlee loves mosaics, so why not?  It turns out that, thanks to a discount for being a student, I only had to pay 2 euros for the Alcázar , and that was some of the best money I've spent on this trip!  I mean, as awesome and awe-inspiring as the Alhambra is, the Alcázar has much more color and has been more up-kept.  In fact, it is the oldest palace still in use in Europe! It is interesting to see the oldest parts with strong Arabic influences (left) juxtaposed with the newer, Gothic wings (right).

And the gardens!  There were peacocks and peahens and peachicks!  Once again, if you didn't pay good enough attention, you just might think that the peacock call was a dinosaur back from the dead.  What's more, if you didn't pay close enough attention as you wandered through the palace, you just might convince yourself that you are looking at a second-story garden, when really you come out at the beginning where you started--on the ground floor.  Weird.

Next, we toured the inside of the Sevilla Cathedral, which has been added to five-ish times, resulting in an edifice the size of an entire city block!  Ashlee and I, tired as we were, nevertheless decided to take on the giralda enorme and we climbed all 34 of those ramps!  Sadly, I misunderstood a key piece of information before our ascent, fooling myself into believing that there were "only" 17 ramps.  No, no.  34.  See how much missing a detail affects things?  The important part, though, is that we made it and were able to take in a grand view of Sevilla once at the top. And we got an earful of bell as it marked the half hour.  Totally worth it, though.

Perhaps one of the coolest parts of the palace and the cathedral is that they are almost literally up the street from us.  Seriously, we turned a corner and then, BAM!  They were both RIGHT THERE!  This is what we saw:

(We climbed that tower.)

Later in the day, we eventually made it over to the Plaza de España.  ...After we found out that the map's popular sites indications were hiding its name, preventing us from locating it and after I led us onto the wrong road because I misunderstood the map and road setup.  I tell you, it's in the small details!  The hunt paid off, though, leading us to a plaza, replete with painted tiling and complete with a small canal and a fountain.  

We crossed the ornate bridges over the canal to stand downwind of the fountain.  On a hot day in Sevilla such as today, if felt as refreshing as much as it is pleasing to look at.  My favorite part was simply being there with other adults and children, all enjoying its cooling effect together.  Here we were, strangers, but a simple pleasure brought us together.  Adding to the ambiance was the man who walked by with his friends, playing guitar.  Oh, Spain!

But what about the small details for the plaza?  What about the title of this post?  Well, I won't leave you hanging.  For once, I did notice a small detail: I recognized an Indian family at the plaza, the same family Ashlee and I saw at the Alhambra in Granada!  Another detail that we noticed forced its presence on us: the pigeons.   Their potentially soothing cooing was driving us nuts, even to the point of considering how invigorating it'd feel to punt one of them!  Imagining that mental image combined with the coo it'd make was too much, and I had to laugh.  Yes, terrible me, laughing at an image of abusing pigeons.  But if you've ever been driven mad by them, you'd understand.  And they run away too quickly-and I say run because they are often too fat to fly.

Unfortunately, there was one detail Ashlee missed, and it made all the difference in the world.  Goes to show that [m] is a phoneme in the English alphabet.  

What I said: "Man, I'm simply pooped."

What Ashlee heard: "Man, I simply pooped."

Having realized the discrepancy, we commenced to laugh.  HARD.  As we did so, a man drove by with his horse and buggy and, seeing our laugh-induced pain, greeted us with an odd look and a friendly , "Hola."  By the end of our laughing fit, my cheeks and stomach hurt.  And I really did need a bathroom.  Thanks, Ashlee.

Day 54, A One-way Ticket to Sevilla, ¡por favor!

I’m on the train to Sevilla as I write this, and I love that it is a day train that I don’t have to sleep in and that it’s only a few hours between Granada and Sevilla.  We arrived at the train station in Granada much easier than we did at our hostel our first day there, and then it was time to wait.  One of my friends from the BYU Paris Study Abroad group pointed out the irony of the Parisians hurrying about with their busy lives, only to then pause and stop everything on the metro until they reached their stop, at which point they recommenced their hurrying and scurrying.  Well, I have certainly had my share of waiting and hurrying and waiting some more, whether in metro stations, airports, train stations, or bus stations.  And you’d think that I’d make good use of my time by reading or contemplating life.  But I usually just sit and wait, thinking of the next step required to proceed with my journey or observing my surroundings, watching people, the like…   I even brought Celestina with me, and have I finished it yet?  Nope; I’ve barely cracked it open.  However, I have used the time today to write what would’ve been last night’s blog post (the internet went kaput on me), I’ve used my Spanish and English to help a couple of Italian women who couldn’t communicate well with the Spanish monolingual ticket-checker, and I’ve enjoyed the scenery.  Actually, part of why I love road trips so much is that I can just sit and watch the landscape as it goes by and changes along the way. 

Further enhancing this train ride was the help I had putting my luggage up.  I first had to ask an American man to help with my fatty bag and he unenthusiastically but willingly agreed.  And then, later, when my backpack was cramping up the space for his and my legs and I decided to put it up also, I asked to get by this Spanish businessman who’d just mounted the train.  His response?  “¿Quieres que la suba?” (Do you want me to put it up?)  So freely and willingly offered.  Actually, I didn’t even really have the option to say no before he took it from my hands and deftly put it in place next to my fatty bag.  Schnikes, these people are wonderful!

***

Okay, so I did end up reading some of La Celestina.  And the American guy was nicer than I made him out to be.  He freely offered to help get my bag back down when we arrived at our destination in Sevilla.  And then, Ashlee and I had no sooner exited the train station than a woman approached us to ask if we were looking for a bus. Amazing!

Making it to our hostel was a story in and of itself, but it is one I won't bother describing here.  The important part is that, despite the 100 degree blistering sun, we made it safely.  We wandered a bit to find food and I tried something that the restaurant translated to "meat rolls."  Pretty tasty, and it came with some Spanish tortilla (an omelet).  Of course, we had to follow it up with gelato, but gelato and kebabs apparently do not abound here as they do in Granada, so we ended up looping around and walking by the Guadalquivir before sating our palates with delicious gelato.  I can now recommend leche merengada (milk with cinnamon) and turrón (toffee) to you.  Check out the monument that was right behind us:

Thirsty, we returned to the hostel, where Ashlee ended up doing randomness while I took an unplanned siesta.  We then went back out for an hour and, just when we thought to head back to the hostel, we spotted a sign advertising a free flamenco show.  Tonight!  Shoot, why not?  We found the location, wandered until starting time, and then realized we hadn't taken one thing into account: Latino time.  Yeah, the show that was supposed to start at 10pm started at 10:54pm.  And it was free to watch, yes, but we had to contribute to the establishment hosting the show.  Three euros for a peach drink.  And lots of waiting.  But at least now we can say we were out on a Friday night in Sevilla and watched a flamenco show.  I even took a pic and a few vids.  Maybe you'll see them one day.

Okay, here's one.  Sorry for the poor quality; it was the best I could do with where I was and with little lighting.  But you can kind of see her dancing and you can hear the singer and the guitar!

Sevilla is bigger and hotter than Granada, without so many accommodating benches and drinking fountains.  But it seems bright and bike riding-friendly.  And a horse and buggy route goes right under my window here at the hostel.  And we are located near a cathedral and other famous stuff.  We'll see how I feel about Sevilla on the whole on Sunday or Monday when I'll have spent more time here.

Day 53, Wandering in Granada

Thanks to having explored the first day and having spent the better part of yesterday at the Alhambra, today was wide open for whatever we wanted to do. It’s kind of odd to me to be able to go about the day without any obligations and just make up plans as to where to go and what to do on the spot.  That’s exactly what we did today.  Yep, we had some ideas of things to do, such as go to the Archeological Museum, post some mail, contact the bishop of the LDS Granada ward, find some LDS YSA here to take Ashlee’s thesis survey, and take a picture of Ashlee eating a kebab at the wonderfully delicious and affordable Kabab King.  Nevertheless, the plans were extremely flexible, and they would’ve been almost completely derailed if they had been more fixed anyway.  Why?  Well, for one, the phone number listed for the bishop in Granada on the lds.org website was wrong, so we had no real, feasible and simple way to locate him or the YSA.  And then, we walked all the way to the Albaicín only to find that construction, yet again, foiled our plans, this time preventing us from visiting the Archeological Musuem. 

Even if you don’t understand Spanish, the English in the middle is clear enough.  (I would like to note that, although I dislike the message, I highly appreciate the order of languages!)

At this point, it was a matter of saying, “Let’s go this direction,” and “I wonder what’s up there.”  Ashlee and I can both be quite indecisive, but I seemed to have taken the lead yesterday, suggesting we continue up the road a bit, which led us to find a path down to the Darro and also to find an old “palace” that has been converted into a city archive.  We stopped in to sneak a peek at the city archive and then, deciding I didn’t want to go uphill anymore and that it didn’t look interesting enough, I suggested we go down to the Darro.  Ashlee agreed, but on the way we found a surprise that diverted us (both in the sense of distracting and in having fun).  You see, apparently Granada is very health-minded, going so far as to offer exercise suggestions in the park, signs to show how many calories you can burn on a certain paseo route, and an outdoor gym for mayors (older people).  I like to call it a gym playground.  Imagine, a free gym combined with a playground feel just for adults!  We, of course, took pictures, and I especially like the ones I took of Ashlee, because she’s cute and the Alhambra is above her in the background par hazard, but she forbad me from posting the ones of her, so here’s one of me.

Somewhat stronger from taking advantage of the gym playground, we finally went down to the water.  We sat there for a while, taking in the hot sun and cool water as I took time to write to my family.  It probably doesn’t seem like a big deal, but believe me when I say it is.  The Darro is connected to the Alhambra, providing much of the water that gives life to it, and I was soaking my feet in it!  Also, I just love water and nature, especially amidst so much desert dryness. 

Once we decided to move on to something else, we ended up heading back into town and buying some gelato.  Then, we hunted down the “Tea Street” indicated on our map, but what we found were more stores like we saw in the Arabic market, in addition to some restaurants and a perfume shop.  By the end of that mini detour, we came back to the square with the gelato and bought linner at the Kabab King, thus accomplishing at least one of our day’s plans!  Next, we wandered toward the Cathedral so we could take in once more the fresh, sweet aromas of the teas located there.  On our way, I ended up paying a euro to get my name written in Arabic, and later Ashlee gave in after a long inner struggle to buy a tea egg and some Esplandor Al-Andalus herbal tea.  Ah, I wish I had that stuff just as potpourri or perfume!  Alas, I’d already indulged myself in buying some earring and my Arabic name, and then I bought a cordobesa apple-filled pastry.  Meh, at least we’d saved some money on laundry, too, because a worker at our hostel was sweet enough to le4t us do it for free.

Have I mentioned how much I love this place and how awesome the people are?!  If only it weren’t for construction…  Then again, the museum closure gave us time to wander even more and enjoy our last bit of time here.

Day 52, Mi sueño granadino finalmente realizado

After a lazy morning, some special care to my oddly malfunctioning foot, and a search for reservation information, I was ready to head out with Ashlee on a journey to fulfill a shared life dream of going to the Alhambra.  Thanks to multiple Spanish professors in general and Dr. Turley specifically, the two of us know quite well that the Moors invaded and conquered Spain in 711 AD.  Well, after that point, they spread and ended up becoming a major influence on the Spanish language overall as well as the culture and architecture of Southern Spain.  The Alhambra has been altered and added to over the centuries, but it is well known for its history and grandeur.  Do a Google search or a Google image search and you will be amazed.  Do it.  I dare you.

The Alhambra itself was surprisingly close to the main city center, but it was up on a hill.  We were excited to be there and soak it what it had to offer, but sadly, we were decepcionadas to find out that the Lion Patio, possibly the MOST famous aspect of the Alhambra is currently undergoing renovations and has been since 2006.   I did see the lions in a special exhibit and in a museum and I saw the fountain removed but in the correct courtyard, but it just isn't the same.  Take a look for yourself!

What I could've seen:

What I saw:

(Behind glass in a museum on the fortress grounds)

Construction seems to have plagued my trip, but I guess this just makes it easier to make a new life goal: I want to return to the Alhambra with my future husband, see the Patio de los leones, and watch the sunset from the Torre de vela (watchtower).  Oh, and I want to add some azulejo and yesería to my dream home, in addition to that always-desired window seat.  While on the subject, I’ll ad that I would love to have a little fountain with plants and an arch, too.  For now though, I must content myself with the fact that the 14 euros per person got us into everything we wanted and I took some amazing photos.  Even better, I WAS THERE—in person!!!  The weather was hot, but there were plenty of places to sit and enjoy the sunshine or the shade, usually within some small distance of some form of trickling water, whether it be a fountain, a pool, or irrigation. 

Oh, so I realized today that the Moors were GENIUSES!  I’d seen pictures before, but to see their work with my own eyes and contemplate the time and planning required to construct such an edifice.  And the colors that must have adorned every wall in its apogee!  And here I was, a small, young aspiring tourist, coming to see hundreds of years later what is left of the labors of so many others from such a different era.  Incredible—in its current sense, but also in its most literal as well.  I mean, who builds something, knowing that it will, at least in part, be around 1300 years later?!  Sure, we hope our legacy will live on, but this is incredible and marvelous indeed.

 A few examples of Arabic genius:

Who can guess what that is behind me?

Along the scenic route to/from the Alhambra:

All in all, I am eating up this opportunity of being in Granada.  Paris, in all its magnificence seems gray to me, and Barcelona seemed almost dull, but the sea and some of Gaudí’s works saved it.  Granada, though, just is a sunny haven.  Yes, it has been quite sunny in each city I’ve visited, but Granada just FEELS nice.  Je suis contente ici, vraiment.  En serio, me encanta estar aquí con todo lo histórico y con todos los españoles simpáticos. What I miss though?  A temple nearby, priesthood holders nearby to protect and give blessings if the need arises, and my network of loved ones.  For the time being, though, it is wonderful to be able to go to the Alhambra at will, eat kebabs and pastries and gelato whenever, and be in Spain, in Granada.

Day 51, Granada a la árabe

Speaking of nice, happy Spaniards, we had yet another pleasant encounter this morning after a grueling night on the train and a long bus ride.  We had some doubts and questions in following the directions to our hostel, and once we’d made it to the end of our bus ride, we looked around, searching for a street name to follow.  We’d walked a block and had paused to hunt down one of those signs when a nice, little lady called out, “¿Qué buscáis?” (What are you two looking for?)  When she didn’t know where our desired street was either, she muttered that maybe a nearby old man could be of assistance, at which point she promptly turned to him and asked for us.  He unhesitatingly pointed it out, directly across the street at a diagonal, right behind some construction.  The two of them led the way across the street, and then the little sweet lady walked us to our pensión (hostel).

The people running our hostel have been just as kind, even such that the old man who seems to own the place insisted on lugging my 18.8 kilo bag up the flight of stairs to our room. Of course, that was after a two hour gap of wandering before we could check in at the hostel, but at least they held our luggage for us. And they gave us a map with some famous places marked on it!

Saving the Alhambra for day 2 in Granada, we busied ourselves by exploring other parts of town, including the Parque Federico García Lorca, the city cathedral/royal chapel, the Arabic market, San Jerónimo, and the Basilica San Juan de Dios.  The park was simultaneously beautiful and hilarious—beautiful because of all the well-tended walkways and plants and fountains, hilarious because of the old man cleaning his dentures in a drinking fountain and because of the health-minded exercise signs found along the main walkway.  (Note: Granada wins the prize so far for being most accommodating in the sense of conveniently providing benches, drinking fountains, and bathrooms!)  As for most of the other “major” historical sites, well, we admired the outside of them, but didn’t pay to enter some and couldn’t enter others, the latter having been converted into medical centers.  However, we did thoroughly enjoy the Arabic market and its neighboring tea vendors, offering a vast array of colors to please the sight and aromas to content the nose.  It was so delightful, in fact, we stopped by on our way back to the hostel so I could indulge and buy some Arabic wares.  From Granada.  Because that’s where I am!

 

We ended the day much more comfortably than we began: instead of hungry and tired of the train, we were cozied up in our room with junk food and Spanish TV.  And guess what?  The Madagascar Penguins are funny in Spanish almost as much as they are in English!

Day 50 ¡Adios, Barcelona!

So, basically, today was just another ordinary day on this extraordinary adventure that is my life.  Honestly, I’ve dreamed of coming to Europe for years now, and all of a sudden I realize that I have already spent 50 days here!  When did that happen?

Ashlee and I had plenty of time today to contemplate the wonderful lives we lead and the incredible chance we’re having to live our dreams of visiting far-off lands and seeing how real life compares to the creations of our imaginations.  Okay, so I might be embellishing the point a bit, but after we checked out of our hostel today and headed into Barcelone-même, we had a good seven or eight hours before our night train to Granada.  Yeah, plenty of time to wander around, eat some genuine Spanish paella (!), sit au bord de la Mer Méditeranée (on the edge of the Mediterranean Sea) and discuss our incredible lives both in the sense of being here and in the sense of our linguistics education at BYU, and eat some divine gelato.  (Mine was hazelnut aka Nutella and dulce de leche.) 

Not only was it relaxing and refreshing to simply sit and enjoy the beautiful weather and gentle breeze off the sea, but it has also been refreshing how wonderfully considerate the Spaniards here are!  For example, when Ashlee and I wandered to the sea, away from our hostel, and then needed help to find our way back, the old man and woman we interrupted had no complaints about cheerfully answering our questions.  And just today, not one, not two, but THREE Spaniards came up to us to see how they could help us find our way.  The first one, an older woman with an even more elderly woman, even walked a ways with us, explaining some sites along the way, such as where an open market and an artists’ market are held twice a week and what the name of a certain cathedral was and that it’s common for them to be named after trees.  Later, it was an old man who approached us, not for cigarettes or money or anything inappropriate as I came to expect from strangers in Paris, but to offer us guidance, pointing out the Plaza Catalunya in one direction and the sea in another.  With those first two, it probably helped that I was lugging my giant suitcase around and we looked lost—mostly because we were looking to know where we were and needed to decide what to do next with our free time—but the last one was a younger guy at the train station who saw us sitting on the edge of a staircase railing for a lack of benches, eating popcorn.  He works there, so as he drew closer, I was worried he’d ask us to move, but then he surprised me by simply asking us how we needed help!  Sure, it’s his job to give info, but he was so sweet and considerate, approaching many travelers to give them information when others might have just contented themselves with merely standing around, waiting for travelers to approach them at their own free will.

Spaniards are happier, I’ve decided, and nicer than I expected them to be with Americans such as us.  And I’m absolutely delighted to be here on their turf.  But I am quite glad to have left Barcelona and be on my way to Granada.  After all, we ran out of things to do and are more interested in our next stop.  ;) Here are a couple pics we took on our way out of the camping grounds in Vilanova, outside Barcelona:

Day 49, Día Gaudí

Thankfully, today was indeed much tamer than yesterday.  At the same time, it was almost less interesting.  But, you know, that’s all relative.  I mean, how often does a person get to go see world-famous, singular Gaudí architecture?!  Yep, that’s right; that’s how Ashlee and I spent the day—well, what was left once we finally left our bungalow and into the city.  Unfortunately, the bus and trains and waiting/walking time combined with leaving late meant we missed going to church and taking the sacrament.  Realizing we were too late, we opted to instead go straight to a couple of Gaudí structures near our train stop, the Casa Batlló and the Casa Mila.  We didn’t enter either, however, because they were audacious enough to demand 18.50 and 14 euros, respectively.  Personally, my top 2 must-see sites in Barcelona were the Sagrada Familia (Sacred Family) and the Parc Guell, and I later added seeing some apartment designed by Gaudí with hardly any straight lines, but I didn’t even know its name, Casa Batlló, until just now.  At any rate, my point is that those first two expensive tourist traps weren’t even my top priorities, so I was disappointed but not overly heartbroken to leave without seeing the interiors.  I can’t say the same for Ashlee.

Next, we made our way to the Sagrada Familia.  We didn’t go it because it, too, was expensive, but we quite enjoyed puzzling out the façade.  Honestly, I think it is a relatively ugly/laid/feo building overall, but it was fascinating to examine the exterior to decipher the meaning based on the images, statues, and WORDS thereupon.  From what I’ve seen of Catholic edifices in Paris, it was interesting to compare Gaudí’s perspective of religion and choices as to what to emphasize with what the typical Western European norm would be.  There were the usual depictions of the apostles and Christ on the cross, but there were also depictions of the Last Supper, the Roman soldiers casting lots, Pilate washing his hands of the matter, a couple kissing, a Tree of Life, Mary and Joseph getting married, them with baby Jesus, Jesus with Simon and Anna, someone being anointed, and someone being crowned—all just on the façade!  Also, the front, which detailed the end of Christ’s mortal life, was more geometric, reminding me of cubism, whereas the back, which focused on the holy family at different stages, was smoother and softer.

Among all the intelligent remarks and observations were a couple of choice comments from me.  The first was, “Well, the good thing about more geometric figures is--.  Nevermind.”  Let’s just say that Ashlee knew what I was about to say and what I saw that made me realize my almost-comment was false, and that the typical depiction of Christ wearing a loincloth on the cross was replaced by a vivid nude depiction.  Just minutes later, as we moved along the side of the building, I noticed frequent mentions of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus.  Me, the genius that I am, commented, “Gaudí really made a big point of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus.”

“Well, it is called La Sagrada Familia,” Ashlee quipped.  Good one, self.  You’re a quick one, you are.

Thus edified by such a religious masterpiece, we moved on to the Parc Guell.  I forgot it was up high!  Thank goodness for escalators!  And that place is HUGE!  We were there for probably a couple of hours and we only saw half of it. Plus, we entered from the non-monument side, so we had just begun to see Gaudí's artistic influence there.  But I think I’ll live with leaving Barcelona after having seen at least part of it. 

Door window?!

 

 As I went throughout the day, I remembered learning that Gaudí’s work was intended to reflect nature, complete with animals and curving lines to imitate the nearby sea.  From what I’d seen in my Span civ class, I thought it was different, kind of cool, and very weird.  Having now seen it in person, I still think that, but in a more appreciative way.  Here’s some trivia for you: Parc Guell was actually a failed attempt at creating a residential area.  Who would’ve known it’d become world-famous?  And I think it would be amazing if Gaudí and Dr. Seuss had gotten together to make a book or a building.