Uma Noite em Portugal

Note: Entry published retroactively My last week at the JFRC (for spring semester) has ended! Monday night featured the Filmmaking class presenting their films (in one of which I had a featured part) and the Voice class performances afterwards. The rest of the final exams have come and gone, and now I am in the earlier days of my three and a half weeks of travel (let's call it "my solo tour") before returning for my summer class. Since I was required to move out of the JFRC with everyone else, but was at least able to store some luggage there, I am now wandering Europe with my laptop and enough clothing to last.
I saved a whole lot of organizing (and packing) for the last minute, being my procrastinating self. The garbages were overflowing from all of the stuff people were leaving behind: clothing, books, and toiletries that no longer mattered. From it all I salvaged a lovely portfolio folder that I could use to separate my travels with print-outs of flight and hostel confirmations. Having all of this to do meant I actually stayed in during "THE LAST NIIIGHT!!1~", during which everyone went out and got wasted before stumbling back in time to leave and get on a flight for America. I was so exhausted from using the previous night to finish papers and study for my last final, and from staying up late that night, that I actually slept through the group flight's early-morning departure and lost my chance to say goodbye to the crew and everyone else taking it. After an essentially smooth move-out and flight however (my third out of Fiumicino's Gate C9), I was on my "solo tour" and in Portugal.My first travel destination was Porto, the second city of Portugal after Lisbon. I knew I wanted to come into the country but I'm no expert on what to see and do there, and Lisbon certainly isn't cheap. From that and the way I tried to book flights, it all came together as me spending about two days (one overnight) in Porto. The most fun part of having meticulously planned out my travel on the Porto Metro from the airport to my hostel was definitely arriving at the hostel and being told "Actually we're full, yes even with your reservation, so here's your money back and we got you a reservation at this affiliated hostel... here's the address and a map." Right at this time I was also struck with a strange allergy-cold-sinus-infection thing so it was totally a welcome adventure and not a horrible inconvenience, but I'm persevering, people.
So, I wander to the general area of this other hostel, and cannot find it to save my life. Thankfully some friendly Portuguese person assisted my search, so I eventually found it and was able to settle into the new place with free WiFi. It's actually a very, very nice hostel too, and probably better than the one I had booked prior. I rest up and de-stress before heading out with my camera for a self-guided tour of the city. I slowly wander to the river, get some food along the way, and take photos. I end up being out for something like three or four hours. The sun sets and the lights come up as I meander past the Torre dos Clérigos and wind my way down to the riverfront. The Rio Douro is nothing special, but the bridge in the distance draws me closer. I eventually get up to the Ponte Luís I and wander around it a bit, but I didn't know anything across the river so I stayed north. Some of the things I saw that night included a theatre playing Annie and an AXA building in the same square, some lovely shops that I had no ability to make purchases in, and the Estação São Bento. That last place is a train station known for its beautiful tile panels in the entranceway depicting some historical scenes.

I loved walking the city some more the next day and taking the metro back to the airport. The food I ate was also rather enjoyable, even with its being cheap and sandwich-oriented on my budget. I tried a francesinha and it was pretty lovely. A lot of the loveliness was soon eclipsed, however, by a dark, dark moment in my life: my first and only Ryanair flight.
I had become an Easyjet fanboy by this point and remain one, but Ryanair was simply the only cheap option from Porto to Madrid. I figured my savvy in discount airlines had developed from a full semester abroad so I booked it and did everything right in terms of my name and knowing the code and showing up early, so what could I possibly do wrong? Well, enough, because Ryanair will find a way. My flight from Rome to Porto was on a decent airline with normal, shall we say humane, standards for luggage. It wasn't until I was checking in with the airline directly fallen out of Satan's arsehole that I realized that my checked bag was over their 15kg weight limit. Yes, I know, I was set up for failure by not just traveling out of a carry-on backpack, but I'm homeless in this saga of my life and traveling for 3½ weeks! Just as well, most airlines I'd dealt with have at least 20kg of weight allowance, so they were being stingy fuckers. They fined me €60 and in my frustration I took whatever I saw out of the suitcase and stuffed it into my backpack. The bag checked and I got in line at security, where they pulled out of my backpack... my toiletries bag. Full of liquids and even a pair of scissors. Why did I choose that of all things to take weight out of the suitcase? Stupid, stupid Tim. All was disposed of and I sat on the stupid cramped plane for two hours, eager to be in Madrid for a few days.

All Things Must End

Note: Entry published retroactively
Things are certainly winding down for the semester. After my Greek getaway and a week of classes, I wandered around Rome on Friday and Saturday and soaked the city in. On Friday, five of us headed down and over to Villa Borghese, which is sort of the Central Park of Rome. We even rented one of those pedal-carts so we could cover more ground in shorter time, while giggling all over the place. It was a productive afternoon, considering it was my first time finally seeing some sites, such as Piazza Barberini or the Bocca della Verità. Thankfully Deanna is an excellent planner.
The next day we got right back on a bus and explored some more. Deanna led us to a garden of orange trees (which were awful, and we may have been scolded for picking and eating them/for Kory climbing into a tree) with a great cityscape view of Rome, looking across the river to St. Peter's or north to the "Wedding Cake" or Victor Emmanuel II Monument. We continued along Via di Santa Sabina, stopped in a church or two, and went to the famous keyhole associated with the Knights of Malta. When you look through the keyhole, you look through the private gardens straight across the river and see a gorgeously framed view of the dome of St. Peter's. There's also a pyramid in Rome, which I did not know, and we saw that after continuing down the road. It was a great last pre-finals weekend.
This week on Monday I enrolled in next semester's classes (but basically it's just Block I and chosen for me). Wednesday was spectacular because Matt organized a Scavi tour with the Vatican, which goes down into the Necropolis underneath and the tomb of St. Peter, and whatever else is down there (humidity?). It was interesting... they showed us pre-Christian Roman and Egyptian tombs and such, we went through a chapel, and at the end they show you the bones of Peter. That last part was a wee bit anticlimactic but I'm glad I crammed myself down into the musty underworld of the Catholic Church for an hour or two.
I stayed up all that night finishing writing my final paper for one of my classes (which had to be in Italian), so, you know. Excruciating experience. I then turned it in yesterday and enjoyed some much-needed sleep for the afternoon. Last night, then, was the big end-of-semester banquet which took place at a fancy restaurant/theatre combination. The wine was flowin' and the dancefloor was bumpin'. I'm pretty sure Dana and I tore up that floor from the first song til the last, and we looked pretty fancy doing it. Today some of the classes come to an end with an art display, the acting class's performance, and a reading held by the Writing Fiction class.
Starting tomorrow and into next week are my final exams, and Thursday April 29th is the big move-out day. So sad! My inter-term travels are not even all the way figured out, but the flights are at least in place. I'm headed to Portugal, Spain, and France for my first times before meeting up with my family and heading to Sicily for a week. Then we'll spend a week here in Rome, they'll fly home, and I'll have my summer class for two weeks before flying back to America myself. By then it'll be the beginning of June, so May is going to be a huge month. I'm still not ready to say "Arrivederci Roma," but I'm starting to feel the mortality of my semester abroad and am coming to terms with needing to eventually return home and, you know, finish college and such.

Party in Αθήνα

I can safely assert that one of the top countries I wanted to go to this semester was Greece. I mean, who wouldn't? Sun-soaked and Mediterranean, the place where plenty got started, and full of GYROS, there was just no way I wasn't going to spend one of my weekends in this Hellenic Heaven. Early on in the semester, I heard about a group headed to Athens in April, and I immediately made the plans. Thanks to the flight prices and my Athenian desires, I decided to stay a day longer than the others and come home alone. I had a mission that from Friday til Monday I would see as much of the city as possible, enjoy myself as much as possible, and most importantly, EAT as much Greek food as possible. Oh, that and avoid the riots for the debt crisis. In all aspects, I was rather successful.
Praise be to the JFRC for not having Friday classes, and to me for not scheduling a Monday class until 6pm. I spent as much of the weekend as possible in the sunny, southern European nation. On day one, the six of us flew into Athens and took the pleasantly clean and modern Metro to our hostel, near the Acropolis and run by Australians. Almost immediately we set out to see some Athens but more importantly to have our first Greek dinner. On our way we met our new canine friend, Sheba, and her attention whore dog-friend, who we did not like nearly as much and therefore didn't give a name. They were hanging out at the bottom of the Acropolis, and followed us around every time we were in the area for that whole weekend. Finally we made it to an area with plenty of restaurants and then had an absolutely delicious dinner. Afterwards we wandered around a bit and wound up at some Spanish bar in Gazi with hams hanging from the ceiling. From there we went over to Psiri and got hookah which is apparently my new hobby, if you base my hobbies off of the pictures I have from my trips, that is. Anyway I think we got apple. Back into Monastiraki, our bro-tastic weekend got a whole lot better because we got, yes that's right, gyros. There's something about the goodness of biting for the first time into a food you love in the country of its origin. My first pizza in Italy and my first brat in Germany were memorable experiences. The street vendor gyro was a perfect and foodgasmic way to cap off my first day in Greece. Oh, except that it wasn't over. We went to one other bar and listened for a bit to some live music, but after getting up early to travel and walking all over Athens, Tim was starting to check out. I do believe I was unresponsive for a bit, despite the loud music the band was playing. Tired, we headed back to the hostel and I was fortunate enough not to fall asleep on the walk back.

The next morning, our first in Greece, we got up and went on our hostel's walking tour. It took us to plenty of places in the city and was fairly interesting despite not being too informative, and certainly not worth the money we paid for it. The tour guide dropped us off at the bottom of the Acropolis on a different side than we were used to, so our next move was to head on up and finally experience it. Since we didn't have a tour guide telling us what everything was, we relied on a map of sorts to determine what we were looking at. Because of that, it was more of an "Aw, neat!" experience than a "Wowww.." true comprehension. Still, being up there and looking all around to see the massive sprawl that is Athens, definitely worth it. Next up we scuttled downhill into the ancient Agora. It was alright, the Temple of Hephaestus was pretty badass. After that we got ourselves some food (gyros of course) and walked around a bit. Eventually we went to the [still-]new Acropolis Museum, which was very fancy and new and they didn't let you forget these facts. Shortly after our visit, in one of the more bromantic moments of the weekend, the six of us went up on a hill (the Areopagus if we're trying to be technical) to watch the sunset. Then, the sun set. No but really, it looked gorgeous, and it was a cool moment this semester akin to the sunrise in the Sahara or looking out on Dwejra Bay. So back in Monastiraki, a group of people with signs and a megaphone were in the main square. Oh no! A riot? Not at all, actually! It was a group of people offering free hugs! We took them up on their offer and got a few pictures with them before continuing on and getting dinner. I had moussaka and the house wine, half expecting someone's Papou and Yaya to come waddling out of the kitchen telling me I'm too skinny. Somewhere in the area we settled down for desserts and beverages (which may have included ouzo and beer) and ended up watching FC Barcelona play Real Madrid (and win).
Sadly, that was everyone else's last night, so Sunday morning they all went home and I got a bit more sleep. I started the day wandering alone with the ol' camera, and since I still had a ticket for it, I went to the Roman forum. I ended up back in Monastiraki where I bought a gigantic bag of strawberries (which were themselves huge) and found a place to sit and eat them while watching young African men sell sunglasses, watches, even cell phones. Temporarily filled with fresh fráoules, I looked at my map and decided I'd tackle one of the places we hadn't gone: Philopappos Hill. At this point it gets kind of weird as I literally wander some hilly open fields for 45 minutes, reading my map which was telling me I was on the Hill of the Nymphs, the Hill of the Muses, and finally Philopappos. I went all the way up to the Philopappos Monument and laid in the sun eating the rest of the strawberries. I'm pretty sure I accidentally reached nirvana up there, until I noticed a tourist giving me a few too many stares and I got uncomfortable and decided to head down the other side of the hill. I saw the prison where they supposedly put Socrates! Next I sought out dinner, and finally had authentic dolmades and baklava, finishing off my list of Greek cuisine I wanted to eat in Greece. Then I made my way back to the hostel, was happy to see my stuff not stolen, and paid for a few minutes of time on a comptuer. I saw that Emily, a friend of a friend that I'd once met briefly in America, had commented my status and was studying in Athens that very semester! Naturally, we met up and got hookah in Psiri. I also tried some honey-wine drink which was served hot and absolutely delicious.
My last day in Greece, I woke up, packed up, and checked out of the hostel. With my luggage I made a B-line for the last thing I needed to see: the Theatre of Dionysus! I went to it, stared and snapping photos without comprehending that I had studied it for a whole semester of Theatre History I, and peaced out. I also saw Sheba that day, which was sad but cute because she may have vaguely remembered me. I flew back to my home-a in Roma and, for the last time this semester, mozied back to the JFRC in time for Mensa and Intro to Opera.

Romanian Easter

Having gotten out of my Thursday classes in advance, and having no classes on Wednesday, I was excited to get a jump start on my Easter weekend travels. It took me quite some time to come up with my Easter destination, because I knew I wanted to travel yet didn't have figured out the where, the means, or even the who. As Malta crept up I knew I had to make a decision quick, or I'd be paying way too much money for Easter travel only one week in advance. Well.. that kind of happened anyway. The night before I left for airport and Malta, I was searching flights online, comparing the affordable ones with my mental list of countries I wanted to travel to. Aside from the travel plans I'd already made, my priorities for the semester were Croatia, Denmark, Romania, and also the UK. The UK and Denmark would be expensive to book and would really clear out my travel budget, and flights weren't cheap either. I knew I wanted to go to a country that wasn't on the Euro, such as Croatia or Romania, so that I could afford to enjoy myself more. I was torn in deciding not to go with my Croatian plans that I'd been counting on for some time, but after booking round-trip tickets to Bucharest, I was excited for some Eastern European adventures. I also expected to "escape" Easter this year, by going to an Eastern Orthodox country during Roman Catholic Easter. Well, 2010 happens to be a year of both Easters being the same day! It would be an interesting experience.
Let's chat about the philosophy of solo travel. Never before had I traveled alone, much farther than some city strolling in Rome or Chicago without any friends. I had some mixed reactions when people asked me the usual, "Where're you headed? Oh cool, with who?" Some people gave me the "Be careful!" and I also got a lot of "Oh wow I'm jealous! I wanted to try that this semester."
Well, Easter Break 2010 began on a not so great note. Coordinating my travel from campus to the train station and arriving perfectly on time at the airport in Fiumicino, I was a few people back in line when suddenly the check-in counters began closing. "Non c'è posto, the plane is full," they said. The company overbooked the flight by almost 15 people! I kept up with the complaints of the group in Italian because the Romanians and I weren't native speakers, but then we were all sent to a kiosk-type office elsewhere in the airport, where a Romanian-speaking representative handled the dilemma. Here, the group's complaints switched entirely to Romanian, and suddenly I wasn't keeping up. The Italians just left and the representative didn't speak a whole lot of English, and I was tired from not sleeping much, frustrated, etc. They put us all on the next flight to Bucharest (the following morning), put up the Romanians in a hotel, and a groggy me went home without taking the hotel offer. In hindsight, I should've stayed so I would've been closer to the airport in the morning, but whatev. I arrived a bit earlier than needed the next morning, at about 6:30am, and check-in went by without issue. One ear-popping flight later, with a tiny bit of sleep in, I landed in Bucureşti, România.
So begins phase II of my weekend-commencing drama. Having lost a night/day of travel to this overbooking, I e-mailed the hostel about my not arriving until the following afternoon. I had requested their 10€ airport pick up service, and after e-mailing them with my new flight info, hoped that someone would be there to get me. Like most European airports, you can't trust the taxis outside the arrivals gate because you will be scammed by one of the guys asking "Taxi?". Realizing that I wasn't about to be picked up, I started my walk out of the airport area. I had printed a map out and had a general idea of my location on the north side of the city, but made a guess as to the direction of the train station I wanted to get to. I guessed wrong, and long story short, wandered the (less urban) north side of Bucharest for about an hour and a half. Stopping at a hotel, a concierge gave me a better map, but I finally gave in and got a cab. Being far enough away from the airport scams, I knew this was an official city taxi, so no problems. Oh. Except that I hadn't converted ANY of my euro to Romanian lei. I was lucky, though, because then I played dumb and pretended I had less money than I did, and if anything I felt bad because I didn't pay him much in euro. I also pretended to be Italian and since the driver only spoke Romanian, it was easier to throw a "Mi dispiace.. grazie" at him and awkwardly exit the vehicle. I'm kind of a bad person.
So I arrived at the hostel, walked in, and here began the good part of the trip. A very friendly front desk girl checked me in and showed me around the hostel, and soon after settling in a bit, I fell blissfully unconscious for an hour or five nap. After waking up perhaps too late, I attempted to find food for a late dinner. This is where my first, and thus far only, fast food fail of the semester took place. NOWHERE was still open at 9:00pm the Friday night of Easter weekend, except for McDonalds and Pizza Hut. Yes, I feel awful.. because I went to McDonalds and got a cheeseburger. Gasp! I walked the empty streets back to the hostel and slept until the next day.
Friday morning I woke up and had the hostel's free breakfast. Pretty good! For that day my plans were to go on a day trip (offered by the hostel) to Braşov, in Transylvania. We five (two Germans, a Floridian, the guide, and I) crammed into a car and set out. Our first stop was the Peleş Castle, which was home to the King and Queen of Romania (back when they had them). It was located in a foresty area where I had a nature moment and fell in love with yet another country. The next stop was another castle, but this one carried much more infamy. While not proven, the Bran Castle is known more commonly as Dracula's castle. It wasn't quite his home, but there is evidence that Vlad the Impaler did indeed use the fortress and another one or two in the area. Weird/exciting! Today the castle's full of the old Queen's things, like furniture and some art. I tasted some local cheese and impaled some political enemies of mine, and then we peaced out. We continued into Braşov for a brief guided tour/walk to a square where we had lunch in the city. After a delicious Romanian meal and another car ride squished in the backseat between two burly German men, we got back to the hostel in Bucharest. The Floridian woman and I went out with two Americans from.. Maine? and we ended up at El Dictador, a Spanish-named pub dedicated to.. dictators! Hitler, Mao, Castro, you get the picture. It's something Dan would've loved. We chatted on the patio and had mojitos. There's something funny about culturally mixing it up when you travel within Europe.
The following morning consisted of a lazy wakeup and more hostel breakfast. I went wandering the city solo and got lots of pictures and attempted to see all the sites I could, which in Bucharest actually doesn't take too long. When I came back to the hostel I sat around with two Swiss guys my age and watched Lord of the Rings dubbed in German. They offered to put English subtitles on but I said to turn on the German ones so I could (very.. slowly..) learn the language. We went out to dinner and then went out accompanied by a French couple from the hostel. Two Swiss guys, a young French couple, an American, and a Lebanese guy comedically attempted to find nightlife in Bucharest, which was still shut down for Easter weekend. We even stopped in a church and witnessed a few minutes of an Orthodox Easter Vigil. It was among the most thrilling things I've ever left early.

And then it was Easter Sunday! I met another American guy at the hostel, Ben, so the two of us "wandered with purpose" that afternoon and I showed him around what I'd seen of the city, and even saw some other stuff. Back at the hostel that evening we had an Easter BBQ. I'm not kidding! In the area outside the hostel's entrance the young and spritely staff grilled pork, blood sausage, and we ate, drank, and were merry. After all that delicious food, American Ben and I walked over to Cişmigiu, the city park which was pretty close by. After seeing tons more stray dogs and even peacocks and swans, we headed back. It was a really great Easter, considering it was my first away from home and family. I love a good cultural experience and the staff at Butterfly Villa is amazing.
Monday morning, sadly, was my last in Romania. Most of my awesome new travel friends were gone, and I headed alone back over to the Palace of the Parliament to take a quick Bertolt Brecht picture (if you've been following that dapper German Shepard) and then my tour guide and hostel staff guy was kind enough to drive the two enormous Germans and I to the train station, where I hopped on a bus for the airport. Crammed into the tiny Băneasa Airport for discount airlines like mine, I waited and jetted off to Rome and my home at the JFRC, just in time for my Monday evening class.