Back from Portugal. It was quite an experience.

Two cars, nine Americans, no map. hmmmmm. After driving a quick two and a half hours south we reached the city of Oporto, the second largest metropolitan area in Portugal. We had a set of directions from GoogleMaps and a general idea of where we were going ("Portugal is south, right?"), but, somehow, it all sort of fell apart. Our car missed the first exit, which didn't really matter because the other group followed the directions perfectly and wound up somewhere in the Portuguese ghetto. After stopping at a gas station in the boonies we got more directions and a map, but it still took us a good three hours to figure out the one-ways and get to the hostal.

Anyway, once we were there things got much better for some of us. The guys' room was on the fourth floor and had a balcony; the girls room was on the ground floor and we still aren't sure whether it was a real hotel room or a cellar.

The first day we took a boat tour down the river that runs through the center of the city. The hills on both sides create steep grades of multi-level apartment buildings and shops and restaurants. Many of the buildings have fronts made out intricate tile designs. There are several massive bridges that cross the river, and at one point we could see the sea crashing against the dyke. It was an awesome afternoon. There really is something to be said for sailing in the same waters as sixteenth century explorers.

That night we went out to the discotecs in "la zona industrial" of the city. It was very fun, and very expensive. That is all I will say about it here.

The next day, after much rest, we made our way to the beach. It felt strange to be looking back in the direction of the United States, like someone slapping you in the face and pointing at a map. "You are HERE!" But it was also beautiful and the sunset was one of the best I have ever seen.

Later we went to an exhibition on DaVinci in the Palacio Crystal, and finished the night with a McDonalds dinner. It was the swankiest McDonalds I had ever been in, complete with chandaliers and stained glass and mirrored walls. I ordered a Royal with Cheese and a beer. The beer was great; the Royal was not.

We made it back without any serious problems. And the Jayhawks won. Life is good.

Portugal

So tomorrow I am going to Portugal. I talked with the two portugese students in my grammer class and they told me all about Oporto and the wine country surrounding it. As the name betrays it is the home of Port wine, and the vinyard offers daily tours. Very excited.

There are eight of us in all, which means renting two tiny cars. Appartantly, the Portugese are crazier drivers than the Spanish, which I find hard to believe, but I guess I will see for myself soon enough.

I learned how to say "Where is the bathroom?" in Portugease/Spanish. "Donde esta la WC" meaning "Water Closet" in english.

Tonight a few of my american friends and a friend from argentina are coming over for dinner. We will be having the standard college student fiest: spaghetti and red wine. I guess some things really don't change, no matter where you are.

Ahora mismo tengo que salir. Hasta pronto.

Today I am officially a resident of the city of Santiago. After looking at a few places around town, I decided to live in a five bedroom flat in the new zone of the town. It is a pretty nice place, complete with all the modern amenities, including a kitchen, two bathrooms, and four Spanish roommates! The two I have spent some time with are great, and I think that my Spanish will improve mucho (es necessario. Ellos no hablan ingles). There are still some things that take a little getting used to, like the entire town shutting down from two to four for siestas, but I am getting more comfortable with the city now that I am out of the hostal. Classes are great too, and I get to walk right in front of the nine hundred year old cathedral when I go to north campus every morning. Those church bells are always, always on time.

The food here is great. We get fresh seafood everyday, the specialty of Galicia being octopus (el pulpo), and the little bocadillo shops around town offer some pretty good sandwich-type things for relatively cheap (cheap in Euros, that is…). I am in completely love with La Tarta de Santiago, this little almond cake covered in powdered sugar, so much so that the nice ladies that hand out free samples in the streets won’t give me any more until I buy something. Oh well, still delicious. I’ve tried a ton of new food, my favorite place being this Brazillian bocadillo place, owned by the nicest Brazillian man and his wife. And no, I have not been to either McDonalds or Burger King since being here (Santiago is actually trying to put a warning label on one Burger King burger like the labels they have on ciggarettes. Apparantly, the Spanish government determined that it alone has more calories than is healthy for a human to consume in an entire day)

All for now, and I will try my best to get more of these up. We are pilfering wireless from someone in our building and it only works on the other side of the piso, so it happens when it happens I guess.

What a city. I really don’t think any words or pictures can do this incredible place justice, but I’m going to try anyway. I arrived in the Santiago de Compostela airport last Friday, after flying about eight and a half hours to get to Madrid Barajas. After making our connection, our group of about twenty students had about a fifteen minute bus ride into the city and we were able to see a little bit of the countryside. One word: green. Galicia gets more rain than anywhere else in Spain, and it definitely shows. Everywhere moss and grass tries to overtake the footpaths that criss-cross campus and the city proper. Ivy makes its way up forty foot palm trees, which cross branches with sixty foot pines. Where else does that happen? And people keep reminding me this is the middle of January…

The city is split into two sections: the old historic zone dating back to the middle ages and the newer zone surrounding it. Walking around the old zone is, to use the cliché, like stepping back in time. Restaurant owners display the days catch in the windows (we are only 30 km from the Atlantic), and artisans play their instruments in the narrow, winding cobblestone streets. These streets, turned into canyons by the four and five story apartments lining them, could at any time open up into huge city squares containing fountains or gardens or statues.

As for the cathedral, it is the one thing I don’t know how to describe here, besides saying that it is very, very big and very, very old. Ernest Hemingway called it the most beautiful he ever saw. I guess there is a reason Santiago is the third holiest site in Christianity, behind only the Vatican and Jerusalem.

That is all for now.