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