Pictures! For those of you without facebook.....

View of Lisbon from Portas do Sol in the Alfama district

The Moorish Castle at Sintra (on a cold windy day)

Same thing, just so cool!

The local Yacht club in Monaco, as viewed from the palace

Daddy Jones an Juliana after our shopping day in Cannes

George Clooney, what else? (see commercial:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DfyeXrdZZ1o)

Antibes as seen from an evening stroll

A great monument to the age of exploration--when Portugal wasn't broke

My birthday trip to the museum of fine arts in Seville when
we discovered that kkk robes are featured heavily in Spanish painting....

Rewa and Lisa at the (in)famous bull ring in Seville

Seville Cathedral as seen from La Giralda bell tower (may not be interesting to some but I love seeing the totally classic gothic architecture, also largest Cathedral in the world)

Us getting sloshed in Jerez at the Sandeman bodega

Beautiful gardens at the fortress of the Catholic Monarchs (real name in spanish) in Cordoba. They hold a lot of weddings here which is disturbing because that tower behind me is where the inquisition started. 

A COLD day atop La Alhambra in Granada

Good photo courtesy of Rewa. Also from the Alhambra, overlooking the Albayzin neighborhood where we stayed

The ridiculous "herbalist" in Morocco who would allow absolutely no interruptions. 

My favorite bench (I later got Rewa to take a picture of me on it, but have not gotten it yet)

Graffiti outside our Airbnb apartment in lisbon--just had to take a selfy with it. 

El fin

Well friends, i am writing this last blog post for you stateside, waiting for my last connection. I had to cut my trip a bit short due to some health issues (no worries, all limbs still intact) so alas, most of  Morocco will have to wait for another trip. But i am looking on the bright side and instead of this being a trip in which i "missed Morocco" it is instead my wonderful trip to Spain and Portugal with a day in Tangiers.

And what a day that was! We left snowy Granada and took a train to Algeciras--a giant port city (that is, the port is giant, the city seemed pretty average).  Algeciras was not very memorable except for all of the puns i noticed in the business names (e.g., mercalgeciras or algecolores--these are only moderately funny if you speak spanish, dont worry). Also, there are a LOT of Moroccan men hanging out around the port trying to sell you stuff. It was good practice for the real thing. We took a ferry across the straight of Gibralter. I was thrilled to receive a stamp in my passport with a boat on it indicating my arrival by sea--that was a first! When we hot to the Moroccan port (Tangier Med) we still had to take an hour long taxi ride to get to the city but I didnt mind because the view was BEAUTIFUL. There were rolling green hills and lots of goats (i like goats).
Unfortunately, our boat was late and cell reception was spotty so we never made contact with the lady we were supposed to be renting a room from. (I stood outside the gate to the medina hoping our host would come by for nearly 40 minutes at sunset while Lisa and Rewa tried to use the wifi at a nearby hotel. People kept asking if i needed help--i think i'd be equally skeptical about my sanity if i saw someone like me just standing there with all my luggage, alone, insisting i was fine. Lol)  But it all worked out in the end, we followed some guy named yusuf to a nearby hotel (where i'm sure he was payed a commission) and it was really nice!

Our friendly guide yusuf also took us to a good restaurant for a traditional Moroccan meal (not all that traditional i think because i only saw tourists there, but it was tasty) and then he took us shopping in the medina. At this point i was on a mission to obtain a gift for my brother (who i doubt is reading this, so i'll tell the story). All around Tangiers i saw men wearing these traditional robes that i can best describe as a cross between a jedi robe and a snuggy. They had pointy hoods and looked really warm and according to yusuf are called jalabas. I decided i had to obtain one and so yusuf took us to a tailor. That was a truly moroccan shopping experience--as we walked into the shop the owner made us mint tea and then arranged a display of different colors and styles of Jalabas out for us to peruse. The bartering was actually pretty fun. I had read so many tips about how to feign disinterest and pretend to walk away and act like you didnt want it but i realized that this style just wasnt me. So i was honest about how much i liked it and also about how much i was actually willing to spend on my brother. In the end i got it for about half the opening bid and i think we were both content.

Just before the tailor we stopped by an herbalist (mainly because it smelled so good that we paused in the doorway just long enough for the owner to haul us inside and start his shpeal. And what a rehearsed shpeal it was! He would brook no interruptions--even to ask to buy something! And when we did get around to buying a few things we had to do it in order by category! I almost burst out laughing at several points, he was so intense and serious. (Side note for the few who may remember the white elephant exchange this year: rewa noticed as we were leaving that his shop was decorated with pictures of goats in trees!)

The next morning, i bid the girls goodbye and got ready to head back to the ferry to spain. But first i decided to try out a truly local tradition--i went to the hammam. The hammam is the traditional arab bathhouse where people gather to gossip and relax (segregated by gender of course). For a few extra dirham you can get a massage from the attendant. I arranged this with an old woman through miming (she spoke neither english nor spanish and i am skeptical of her french). It hit me like a bucket of water when i actually was doused with a bucket of hot water that a language barrier is not small thing when you are naked in a foreign country. It was one of the weirdest experiences i have ever had, lying on a tile floor while an old woman exfoliated me to within an inch of my life and kept asking me questions in arabic. I also discovered, quite unexpectedly, that stretching is a part of the bathhouse massage. I almost had my nose broken when these two old women shoved my shoulders forward while i sat in order to stretch my hamstrings--they were not prepared for how flexible i was and i had to react very quickly to stop my head's progress towards the tile. They indicated that they were impressed with my limberness (i think, again i had no idea what they were saying). I keep laughing now, but the whole time i was in the hammam i kept thinking "what the f*** is happening? What on earth did i sign up for?" I felt great afterwards, truly, but i would recommend taking a female interpreter if you ever want to give it a try.

And with that bizarre and memorable hour behind me, i raced back to my hotel, caught a taxi to the port, and slowly made my way back towards lisbon to catch a plane home. It is always impossible to sum up a trip with a few final sentences but i will say that i would like to return to andalucia in the spring or summer. I would like to spend more time in granada (eat more nun cookies!) and find more occasions to drink mint tea and barter poorly. But for now, i am relieved to be back in some more familiar territory.

About those first few days in Lisbon...

I feel like i should go back and fill you in on some of the details i skipped over in Lisbon. So here you go:
In our first day together we took the train to Belem--a neighborhood in Lisbon that is full of reminders of the glory days of Portugal as a world power at the forefront of exploration.
We first saw the monastery of the jeronimeos (spelling? Monks dedicated to st. Jerome i believe) that was built with the money of said age of exploration. It's a perfect example of the "manuelline" style; name after a king whose architects were fans of fractals i think. Every straight line sprouts another layer of intricacy resulting in really delicately carved stone spires. The monastery was organized around a central courtyard (as per usual i suppose) and honestly, i could imagine enjoying the monk's life in that kind of place. The refectory was filled with elaborate tile mosaics (the portuguese love tile mosaics) depicting stories from the life of Joseph (Joseph of the technicolor dreamcoat fame) I explained what each panel was about to the girls but i am pretty sure they got sick of that fast.
We got lunch at a little restaurant recommended by a guide book. This was when lisa convinced me to split grilled sardines with her (i dont care if they are a specialty of portugal, they are tiny, full of bones and smell!) we then made our pilgrimage to a pastry shop that was founded 200 years ago by monks strapped for cash. There we ate the delicious cream pastries that are iconic of Portugal (think beignets and cafe dumond). They more than made up for the sardines.
Our last stops in Belem were along the waterfront where nearly six centuries ago explorers set out to find new lands. There was a great monument to them shaped like the giant prow of a ship carved in stone. Climbing up each side where some of the most famous explorers and their priests (Gold! Glory! God!) I commented that it was no wonder Portugal went into decline--there was not a single woman setting out with them.
Lastly we climbed the famous tower of Belem (i assume it is famous, it was on an awful lot of postcards). All i know is that this is the kind of tower i'd like to defend against an invading horde (assuming i was well-stocked with food and water). The only way to get to the upper levels is by climbing this narrow corkscrew of a staircase. It is so narrow that they have a complicated system of red and green arrows with timers to keep tourists going the same direction (no room to pass!). You could totally hold off an army with just a few guys blocking the stairwell. There were also awesome lookout niches carved on each floor in the corners. (I think the tower originally served to keep an eye out for invaders). Rewa and I each sat in a niche and realized we could chat with each other across the parapets. Again, words fail to capture it but i felt like i could "play pretend" in that tower forever.

That night we went in search of Gijinha and Fado--two icons of portuguese culture. We found a Gijinha bar (literally just a walk up counter) that only served gijinha (cherry liquer) in tiny plastic cups for a euro a piece. It was perfect and delicious. This bar apparently does well by being insanely specific because it has been in business for over 100 years. As we walked on in search of some soulful fado i was reminded of my days in the D.A.R.E. program. I kid you not, an unshaven, shifty-looking guy dressed in black leather and rubbing his hands together walked up to us and said in a low voice "want some drugs?" Wtf? Sometimes people look exactly as you expect them to i guess. We politely declined his offer (as well as several more from shady characters on this well-travelled touristy street). I guess the tourists are a big part of the local drug market?

We followed the advice of a guide book and just went walking in the Alfama district and listened for fado. We passed the famous Club de Fado but decided not to pay the $20 to enter (and $5 per glass of port--which is outrageous by Lisbon standards). Instead, we walked down some dark and narrow alleyways (i was nervous) but it totally payed off when we heard some applause from a distance. We found this tiny restaurant where a Japanese woman was singing the iconic portuguese soul music (odd). She was followed by a student then the bouncer and finally a cook from the kitchen. It was GREAT! I couldnt understand the words but felt moved nonetheless (could have also been the port i was drinking). This restaurant was so small we were packed in at tables and at one point i saw the cook run outside and bang on a neighbor's door for a bucket of ice. One singer was particularly good but we were distracted by his missing shirt button that left an opening for his belly button. I suggested to rewa that perhaps his belly button was the true source of the singing? In short, a ridiculous and fun night. So the guidebooks are right, you can actually just go to a neighborhood and follow your ears to a great concert!

Granada

I loved Granada--i think it is my favorite city in spain. It is very walkable and has a strong university town vibe. Looming over everything is the alhambra. I had bought tickets to see said Alhambra without knowing what that was, so allow me to fill you in too: the Alhambra is like a complex of palaces and fortresses. I guess at one point it was a city itself. It has the palace of the last moorish ruler, his smaller summer palace, the "red keep" (which totally belongs in Game of Thrones both for the name and the appearance) and a half-assed (never quite finished) spanish palace built post-reconquista. It is hard to appreciate how extensive it all is from the city but you can always feel it looming over you (it is, of course, on the tallest hill).

Our apartment in Granada was also great. It was in the Albayzin quarter (the medieval part of town) and was right next door to a convent of cloistered nuns. The best thing about these nuns was that they made and sold delicious cookies (trust my somewhat dessert-obsessed travel companions to notice the modest paper sign, "se vende dulces"). To buy said cookies you go through a side door and ring a bell. Then a little window opens and from behind a revolving shelf a nun's voice asks (in spanish of course) "yes, you would like sweets? How many?"  You order by the half kilo box and place your money on the revolving shelf and moments later a box of cookies revolves into view. Of course, you never see the cloistered nuns! It's like living in a dan brown novel except the treasure at the end is delicious anise-flavored tea cookies covered in powdered sugar. Best. Nuns. Ever.

Our first night in Granada we met up with some siblings of a friend's cousin's bookie who was studying abroad (or something like that) and she finally took us to a real tapas bar. I say 'real' because at this bar, as used to be the tradition everywhere, when you order a drink you get free tapas. And as the rounds progress they get better and better (or you get drunker and drunker, either way you are happy). Luckily the beers were half-servings or i'd be trashed in the interest if trying more food. It was fun and delicious and as i was paying (4 rounds for 3 people was under 20 euro, for perspective) the bartender asked how the food was and i told him in sloppy spanish "the best in spain up to this point!" So he gave us free shots of baileys for dessert!

Another fun/absurd/at least noteworthy thing about Granada is that it is full of hippies. According to Rick Steves (who has been our awesome and ever-present companion during this trip) Granada is where the children of wealthy northern spaniards go to disappoint their parents (lol). Suffice to say, there were a lot of drum circles and unwashed dreadlocks. On the bright side, that strange subculture made it really easy for lisa and rewa to find vegetarian food! So point to hippies i guess...

The last sight we saw in Granada was the Capilla Real (royal chapel) where king ferdinand and queen isabel are buried and some of isabel's personal effects are on display. All i can say is that isabel was definitely Catholic with a capital "C". Laid to rest next to them were Phillip the fair and Juana the mad. Phillip died when he was 28, Juana was found insane and locked away for 50 years while she was technically queen. The thing is, she had 6 children in 9 years by phillip and he was a major womanizing cheater. I think i'd go "mad" too.

Two day trips out of Seville

Friends, I'm trying really hard to upload a few photos but as best as i can tell to do that from my phone I need to download a new google app and sign away my rights to google--which most of you know i am not going to do. So alas, i guess i'll have to substitute a thousand words. Also, i realized i am still not sure if i am in seville or sevilla (spelling is hard) and have not bothered to check in the last 5 days.

Yesterday the girls and i took a bus to Jerez--the home of sherry (apparently the town used to be called Sheriz or something and the English liked it). We toured the Sandeman bodega (aka winery) where i learned more than i realized there was to know about Sherry (ask me some time and i'll relate the lesson). The tour was awesome--our guide Alicia ('Alithia' with the Andalucian lisp) wore a cape and a hat, no joke, to mimic the logo of the winery. Since it was january we were the only 3 people on the tour that was clearly meant to accomodate 30-40 tourists. It was pretty fun tho and at the end we tasted three different sherries--fino, medium and oloroso. The thing was that since we had raced from the train to the bodega to catch the tour at noon we had not eaten in hours and we were poured three full sherry glasses of 15%, 15.5%, and 17% alcohol (exactly, those numbers are apparently very important) so we got pretty drunk... By the end we were three giggling Americans trying on capes and hats while buying out the gift shop. Then we got lunch (at a place called "pastaghetti", looking back i think that was a drunk choice) and we ordered more sherry....let's just say we slept VERY soundly on the train home.

The next day (today) we caught a bus to Cordoba to see la Mezquita--the big beautiful mosque that christian kings built a church in the middle of (and have since carefully justified by filling all of the brochures with details about how before there was a mosque at that site there was an even older church...lol). It was the strangest thing to see a gothic domed church in the middle of a columned mosque. It was like two different worlds (and worldviews, i suppose) colliding. The mosque space was filled with double-arched columns and the mihrab had verses from the koran spelled out in tiny gold tiles and colored glass. The cathedral (which again was not separate from the mosque--in the middle of the space the columns suddenly gave way to gothic arches) was full of light and soaring ceilings. In too short a word, it was neat!

Side story: i wasn't feeling very well today so i ate little breakfast and was ready to try food carefully at lunch. We had a great experience with a previous menu of the day meal so we decided to try that again. I ordered the non-veg option and was greeted by a large plate of deep-fried sardines. Yum, what else could one want on a queasy stomach? Needless to say, i didn't really manage to eat lunch either.

The last place we went in Cordoba was the alcazar de los reyes christianos (fortress of the christian kings). According to our Rick Steves guidebook, it wasn't great but was supposed to be free on wednesdays. Alas, it was not free and i had to stop myself from arguing, "but Rick says..."  The fortress did have beautiful gardens that they apparently rent out for weddings. I don't know that I'd get married there, however, as it is the castle that was donated to the spanish inquisition in the 1400s and countless "false converts" "confessed" after spending time in those towers. (On a lighter note, in preparation for our journey i made the gals watch Mel Brooks' inquisition song and dance number on youtube in preparation for our visit)

We ended our tour of cordoba with a nod to the third great Abrahamic religion via a quick visit to a synagogue that survived the expulsion of the jews from Spain in 1492 by being converted to a church and hospital for people with rabies (guess there were a lot of those patients?). The hebrew carvings were discovered behind the plaster walls during building repair in the 1880s and Spain, regretting it's super anti-semitic past, ordered the building restored. It was tiny but pretty cool (and really made me reflect on the fate of spanish sephardim--pretty f***ed up).

Tonight we went back to the terrifying tapas bar with the angry waiter and i finally got some iberian ham. We couldn't stop giggling at how angry the waiter looked at all of the tourists who came in (a fair number of them as we had dinner at the ridiculously early hour of 9pm when the bar is less intimidating). We realized as we were leaving that our behavior (pointing at the waiter, whispering and laughing, stammering whenever we had to speak to him) probably made it look like we thought he was cute. This only made us laugh harder! If only he knew that we spent half the evening postulating that he had bilateral bell's palsy that made it impossible for him to smile...

Tomorrow we head to Granada--the last stronghold of the moors where hopefully we find out that Sarah's spanish was good enough to correctly buy tickets for the Alhambra online a month ago.

Seville!

Well, it's official, much as video killed the radio star, the smart phone has killed the internet cafe. I cannot locate a computer. So this blog is reduced to short stories typed from my iphone when i have wifi. So i claim no responsibility for spelling.

We are currently in Seville, Spain where the sun shines on the ubiquitous orange trees and the restaurants are not kind to vegetarians (my poor travel companions are surviving on bread, potato omelettes and brie). Everything you have heard about the spaniards' schedule is true--they eat dinner at 10 and it is normal to see families with toddlers walking around at midnight. Those of you who have lived with me lately know that i tend to go to bed by spanish dinnertime so this has been an adjustment (the siesta has not, i was born for midday naps).

Our first night in seville we went to a crazy tapas bar at 10:30 (so hip) and thoroughly pissed off the waiter behind the bar (who was juggling dozens of demanding customers) by trying to ask about meat in dishes and not knowing the routine of ordering, pickup and paying. It was much like what i imagine my surgery rotation will be like this year--i will get yelled at by the conductor of a highly ordered orchestra (the surgeon/waiter) as i try to fit in and survive (obtain food/learn medicine).

For my birthday we went to the museo de bellas artes--a converted convent filled with spanish art from the medieval period through 20th century. It was beautiful, inspiring and CATHOLIC. I swear 70% of the art was the virgen mary. The converted chapel had massive rennaissance pieces that soared up the walls to the high vaulted ceiling that was also intricately carved and painted. They had subtle choir music playing as you walked in so the effect was very other-worldly. The grand religious pieces were inspiring but my favorite works were paintings of ordinary Sevillanos from the 20th century.

That evening we crossed the river to Triana and followed a guidebook's advice to simply "follow our ears" to find traditional flamenco music in a local bar (but only after 12:30am). This sounded idiotic to me and i figured we would be three girls cold and wandering lost in a strange country at 2am but it totally worked! We found a bar with a great flamenco guitarrist and a few singers. It was packed with locals (we were lucky to claim a pillar to lean on) and we enjoyed the first part of a great show (we called it quits at 1:30--too late for us! Tho there were at least 5-10 people over 65 who were still there when we left...how embarassing)

We succesfully made it back to our apartment by 2am and felt super hip for staying out so late (and then slept till 12:30pm the next morning).

A few observations about Seville:
---the little kids are dressed incredibly well. So freaking fashionable--i've seen 6 yr olds with more style than me on my best day.
---it is okay to drink beer by about 11am by my observation. But it is also okay to be eating breakfast at 1pm
---the siesta is real. Stores close between 1 and 3:30 or even till 5:30. I'm really not clear when people work mostly because there are lots of stores that i have yet to see open. But then i've also seen construction workers repairing the street at 11:30pm on a saturday-wtf?
---seriously dont be a vegetarian in spain. Or lactose intolerant.

Tapas

My apologies for the long interval with no news. It is actually very tricky to find a computer and the time to use it while traveling. Lots of cafes have free wifi but it is very hard to blog from one's phone. That is what I have been reduced to now (sorry for the inevitable spelling and capitalization errors). So i want to give you just a taste--some tapas if you will (as is appropriate since we three girls arrived in Seville this evening)--of the stories that will come when i find an internet cafe tomorrow.

1) trip to Belem on the famous trams past crumbling mansions and political graffiti
2) I explored an ornate monastery that was so perfectly preserved that i kept turning the corner expecting to see a monk.
3) i climbed a tower that in different times was used as a political prison, a defensive fort and a watchtower to ward off the evil spaniards. All i kept thinking was that it would be highly strategic in a zombie apocalypse.
4) imagined myself as henry the navigator setting out for the unknown
5) ate sardines, regretted said decision
6) ate pasteis de belem (sweet custard tarts) at a 200+ yr old pastry shop and regretted nothing
6.5) ordered shots of cherry liquor (gijinha) for 1euro a cup from a 150 yr old walk up counter that serves only this liquor.
7) wandered a neighborhood at 10pm listening for music and applause to try and find a good "Fado" club
8) found a fabulous, very casual Fado club and drank port wine while enjoying performances that occasionally included the cooks and stayed past midnight

Antibes (plus: "Oops, I went to another country!")

The local yacht club, as seen from
the royal palais balcony



Okay, it wasn't an accident that I went to another country--my grandparents in Antibes planned a day trip to Monte Carlo, Monaco. Yes, this is the Monte Carlo of James Bond fame. I did not get involved in an international incident that I know of (though when we went to see the changing of the guard at the palace I had an almost uncontrollable urge to make a scene (formal occasions inspire that in me). I kept imagining what the guards would do if everyone in the crowd very subtly dropped a bouncy ball over the velvet rope and they all started bouncing past them--I blame my roommates for this thought.) Monaco felt a lot like Disney land--it was all so clean and perfect (and clearly cost a fortune to be there). I couldn't imagine any graffiti in that city like what covered Lisbon (especially since the Lisbon graffiti was mostly communist-inspired and Monte Carlo is pretty solidly a capitalist dreamland).

We had lunch at the Café de Paris next to the Monte Carlo Casino (which they do not let the vulgar masses enter, unfortunately). We did sneak our way into the Hotel de Paris (also normally closed off to the public) since there was a public auction to sell off the old furnishings as they were redecorating. However, we quickly left as it was clear that we could afford nothing there. (If it were me, I probably would have tried to get further into the hotel, but Daddy Jones and Juliana are much too polite.)

I kid you not, this is a coffee store

The next day we stayed in France but went to Cannes (of the film festival fame--less international politics, more international drama) and strolled past the terribly expensive stores that cater to the rich and famous during their film festival. We did stop by Fragonard (a perfumery where I could happily just sit and smell heaven for hours) and the "George Clooney store." Apparently George Clooney has been doing a series of commercials for Nespresso (the Kureg equivalent in Europe) that are wildly popular and so at least among the American expats they refer to it as the George Clooney store (and indeed, his photo is featured heavily inside). This was the strangest/fanciest coffee store I had ever been inside. It is set up like a really expensive makeup store almost--you have to go up to the counter and tell them which kind of refills you would like and they will bring out a very elegant black box for you. Then you go downstairs to their coffee bar and get a free espresso served in real china cups. "Fancy Shmancy" is their unofficial slogan I believe. I will say tho that the coffee is really good.

In addition to good coffee I have been treated to all sorts of great food by my grandparents (and copious amounts of good wine). The first night I was served Shrimp Pastis (tomato, basil, lemon, butter and a French liquor lit of fire and served over wild rice) and every evening we finish our dinner with fromage (delicious French cheeses). Just as well I am leaving tomorrow or I might be charged extra for a plane seat due to weight limitations.

Finally, here are a few more pics from my time with my grandparents. Just walking along the beaches here feels like I am living in a painting (and indeed, tons of artists have lived and painted here over the last centuries--the sidewalks are decorated with signs that show paintings of whatever view you can see from that point).  

Proof that I am alive and in another country--
on the seaside in Monaco

A view of the fort from Cap d'Antibes (where I am standing is
apparently near the site of Putin's villa and the summer homes
of a few other Russian billionaires)

Sintra

I learned an interesting fact about Sintra (a small town about 30 min from Lisbon by train)--it is a microclimate, meaning that if it is sunny and beautiful in Lisbon it may be raining and miserable in Sintra. Such was the case when I arrived in Sintra at 9am with reservations for a bike rental. It was pouring rain and my (in)famous sense of direction was reliable as ever so I quickly got lost and just went to a café for coffee. That was delightful--I got to sit by a roaring fire and the cashier gave me directions that involved a shortcut through a beautiful park that was built onto a steep hillside. Of course, everything in Sintra is built on a steep hillside. A lot of my directions involved turning "up" instead of R or L (it felt like being home).
I finally found the bike shop at about the point that I realized there was no way I was biking in this weather. But I am glad that I stopped by because the owner was half American, as it turned out, and she was able to recommend a great walking/hiking route through Sintra to see the local Moorish castle. The rain came and went but I didn't mind because the result was lots of fog/mist that lent an almost magical air to my explorations of Sintra. I climbed a ridiculously tall hill to see the castle (which I later learned is actually the tallest hill in southern Portugal and the castle was built on top of it so that the Moors could keep an eye on the coast and Lisbon). The castle was one of the coolest castles I have every explored (okay, I have only seen like 3 to be fair). With the wind and fog my view would alternate from not being able to see past three steps in front of me to suddenly catching a glimpse of the beach in one direction and the city in Lisbon in another.

After the castle I found myself at the nearby baths of Santa Eufemia. She is apparently the patron saint of all sorts of nasty illnesses and there were these baths (I assume from a local hot spring) that people would travel for miles to visit and bath in for healing. Her specialty, according to a sign, was in curing scabies. I was pretty grossed out by the idea of bathing in healing waters with a bunch of scabrous strangers but that's the middle ages for you.

At this point I had been wandering for about 3 hours and 6+ miles and was starving and lost. So I heading back down the hill in search of a restaurant recommended by the bike shop owner. On the way I encountered some of the lovely pet dogs of Sintra. One of them was the size of a dinosaur and thought it was funny to growl at me and lightly bite at my coat. He wasn't seriously attacking me, just letting me know that he could, but I was extremely alarmed and couldn't shake him so I ended up climbing someone's garden wall and sitting there until an elderly Portuguese man came by and chased the dog off (he actually just laughed, pet the dog affectionately and sent him back to his home).

I finally found the restaurant and discovered that the bike shop owner was serious about her recommendation--she was there with her husband and invited me to have lunch with them. I once again found Portuguese food to be AMAZING (lots of garlic!) and the wine to be incredibly cheap (like $2 a glass). All in all, Sintra was fantastic and I would go back there in a heart beat (I actually intend to at some point later in this trip. I still have a bike to rent and a nearby monastery to visit).

I was so wiped out by the time I got to my train that I fell asleep with hot tea in my hands (I woke up when it tipped over onto me...sadly this is not the first or even the second time this has happened). Fortunately my stop in Lisbon was the end of the line, so I didn't get lost again. :)

That evening, our hostel had a BBQ and all of the hostels owned by the same company in Lisbon were invited (destination Lisbon, I think the company is called--I highly recommend them). We drank Sangria, ate delicious garlicky Portuguese food, and danced to whatever tunes the Argentinian DJ felt moved to play (eclectic, to say the least). Afterwards, tho I had grand plans to sleep, I was convinced to join the other travelers on a pub crawl through Barrio Alto. Barrio Alto is the party section of town--it reminded me a lot of the French quarter in New Orleans. There are people dancing and drinking in the streets (no open container laws!) and there is music spilling out of clubs every few doors. I had a fabulous time with some very drunk Koreans, a nice German and another American gal. I felt very free dancing like a dork (occasionally to the backstreet boys; Europe is weird) knowing that I literally would never see anyone there ever again. I was also pleased to discover that club-goers in Lisbon are much more polite than in Atlanta--no one awkwardly tries to force you to dance or invades your space if you accidentally make eye contact.

I successfully taxied back to our hostel with the American girl (a post-doc doing neurology research in Paris) and made it to bed by 3:30 after a lengthy conversation with a hostel employee about Portuguese literature while drunkenly eating BBQ leftovers. It was a fabulous night followed by a very rough morning--totally worth it. Tho it has been three days since and my calves still hurt--I cannot tell if it is from hiking in Sintra, dancing in Barrio alto or wandering my way up and down stairs back through Lisbon to find a cab (probably all three).  

Lisbon part 1

Mandatory safety update for concerned parties: I. Arrived in Portugal without incident and successfully found my lodging.

Arrival: I arrived in Lisbon at 11am and took the cheap way to my hostel (public transport) with the help of a friendly tourist booth attendant at the airport. I explained to her that distance walking was less important to me than simplicity of directions (many of you no doubt know that I am slightly, ahem, challenged when it comes to directions) so she literally drew me a map and sent me on a bus with no transfers. I still managed to end up wandering for an extra hour--wearing my big backpack, clutching a handful of colorful tourist maps, I have never felt like such a tourist in my life. I definitely walked past the same group of elderly portuguese men at least 3 times (I stopped to ask directions and discovered that the Portuguese I had practiced on the plane was pretty bad) What saved me was the trolley tracks. I vaguely remembered that the hostel advertised itself as on tram line 28 so when I saw said tram I just followed it's tracks for a mile or so until I saw my hostel.

Alfama Patio Hostel:
This place was great! I think they said that the building was more than 300 years old and it was tucked away in the medieval part of Lisbon (Alfama) which consists of tiny winding streets on a giant hill with a view of the ocean and the rest of the city. There were lots of other guests from Europe, all in their 20s and very chatty. I met a couple of delightfully sterotypically gay Germans from Düsseldorf  who shared a bottle of wine with me and complained that they couldn't find any hair wax in Lisbon (one of them was a professional hair and makeup artist). I payed for dinner at the hostel that night and was delightd to discover that I love Portuguese food. (More descriptions to come). I ended the evening laughing with the Germans and a Norwegian guy (who introduced himself as a Viking) talking about accents and what they sound like to an American or German ear (for example, it took me an hour to realize that the Norwegian guy was really drunk because a drunk Norwegian accent sort of just sounds Norwegian to me.....sorry Norway)

Sarah is off to Europe!

Tomorrow I leave for my 4 week European adventure. Yes, I am still in medical school--for whatever reason I get a month off before I begin clinicals (on that note, don't get sick or hurt in Atlanta during the next year--I hear the rising M3 med students are sketchy).

So a few previews: I am flying into Lisbon alone and going on a bike tour to an old monastery, visiting my grandparents in Antibes, reuniting with my crazy med school compatriots in Seville, and then meandering my way to Marrakesh to meet an old college pal. Pics (or it didn't happen) to follow.

Love y'all!

-Sarah