Osterferien, Part III: Lovely, Lovely Lisbon

Warning: Photo-heavy post. This is because Lisbon is gorgeous.

My hands are already cramped, and we're not even halfway through. Well, after this one, we will be. Still. Ouch.

So, where were we? Ah, yes; the tearful goodbye at Gatwick, on our way to Portugal (and, consequently, our longest flight of the batch). Yes, it was wrenching to say goodbye to my family, as I felt that I hadn't had enough time with them, or to bask in the loveliness that is southern England, despite the dreary weather. But, trudge forward we did, and we made it into Lisbon around 8:00 PM because, true to Easy Jet's invisible policy, the flight was delayed. Maryle and I took the shuttle bus to the area where our hostel, Lisbon Lounge, was located, and we had no difficulties finding it and settling in.

As a brief aside, the Lisbon Lounge was the best hostel we stayed in all throughout our trip. It had a very hospitable atmosphere, the staff was friendly and obliging, the rooms were nice and secure, and the food was quite good. It was at this point, though, that Maryle and I started our descent into becoming pair of old ladies, as I had pulled a back muscle during the flight, which left me in quite a bit of pain that night and the next morning. However, when my back pain cleared up, Maryle developed some of her own, which lasted the rest of the trip. So, we pulled out our walkers and gave ourselves old lady names: Pearl (Maryle) and Vera (moi).

Just like that. Pearl and Vera.*

Vera has a great sense of style. Might want to stay away from barbers, though.**

My first good impression of Lisbon started at the hostel, as the cook offered us some dessert, even though we had arrived too late to pre-order dinner. As we ate, we struck up a brief conversation with the cook, who turned out to be a rather likable fellow; he seemed to cook solely because he liked to (and, er, because he was paid to, but that's beside the point). Because of this impression, we decided to have dinner at the hostel the two remaining nights we were there.

The next morning, we were curious about a free guided tour of Lisbon that the hostel offered. As that didn't start until 10:30 in the morning, Maryle and I wandered a bit beforehand, and we stumbled across a lovely part of the river nearby. It was a gorgeous day--warm, sunny, and blue--, and seeing the water that morning, along with feeling the watery breeze, made my soul feel just a little bit lighter. Being by the water (which may seem ridiculous, as I don't yet swim) always makes me feel at peace, as if it's a long-lost friend who is eager to see me whenever I'm in town. And it brought a smile to my face.

At that point, I knew that Lisbon was a Good Place.

We eventually returned to the hostel's lounge, waiting for the tour to start. Our company was a group of quite typical Americans, which didn't suit Maryle or me at all, and overall the tour was exactly what it was: a free tour. Though we eventually defaulted, Maryle and I did see fascinating parts of the city--but it was more because we were interested in the city itself and not because of the tour. And since pictures are sometimes worth more than words, I'll let a few speak for me.

The river.

Squinty (this time on the tour).

When we did default, Maryle and I decided to go to Belem, which was approximately fifteen minutes away by tram. It was the best decision we made that day, in my opinion, as Belem is wonderful. It is the part of the city that is home to many of Lisbon's prized attractions, such as the Jerónimos Monastery and the Belem Tower. We spent the evening walking about the area, soaking in the sun, admiring the water, and exploring some of the monuments there (though further exploration into the monastery would wait until the next day). We first approached the Monument to the Discoveries, which is in honor of Henry the Navigator. It is quite an impressive structure, and we wasted no time in being absolutely silly.

It's funny because I'm imitating the statues. Hur.

I cannot get over the blue skies. And, yes, that's an imitation of the Golden Gate Bridge, there.

We then walked to the Belem Tower, the entrance port constructed in the early 1500s that is perhaps Lisbon's most famous structure. Though small, it really is a sight to see, but that was perhaps because of the addition to the beautiful weather and the time of day. Maryle and I spent a good bit of time there, gathering seashells and taking pictures.

Purdy.

I have also forgotten to mention that since we were in a four-person mixed dorm, our roommates changed every night. This particular day, we met our new roomie, one Nate from Iowa, who had just started his bike adventure from Lisbon to Rome. He was a very nice young man, and we enjoyed having him as our roommate, as he was quiet and polite, along with providing enjoyable conversation. He maintains an active online blog over at Word Press, and here is his site. It's a rather interesting blog, so here's to hoping that he makes it to Rome in the allotted time. Good luck, Nate.

The next day saw us returning to Belem to tour the monastery, which was beautiful, if too crowded and loud for my taste. Indeed, that was quite disappointing; though I'm glad that I toured the monastery's interior, it just didn't feel right that so many people were about. It seemed, in all honesty, fake. After the monastery, Maryle and I went off to purchase pastéis de Belém, the famous custard pastries that everyone really must try. We got them at the historic pastry shop on Rua de Belem and feasted. A sugary, custardy feast. Jealous? Yeah, you should be.

We then packed up and traveled to the other end of the city to climb to St. Jorge's castle, which was a workout. In fact, just being in Lisbon is a workout, as the city is incredibly hilly. Nevertheless, the castle was peaceful, and it offered beautiful views of the city:

Like this one here.

And let's not forget this one.

Oh, and if anyone is afraid of heights, don't go there. There is also no railing whatsoever.

Afterward, Maryle and I observed a very interesting convent that had been destroyed during the 1755 earthquake (the one that Voltaire parodies in his Candide, natch), and then we called it a day and returned to the hostel area, first to shop around and then to have our last dinner at the Lisbon Lounge. It turned out to be quite a fun night, as Nate, who was supposed to have checked out that morning, had decided to stay another night at the hostel because of technical difficulties with his bike. So, with a Portuguese acquaintance we had made the night before, a Belgian family, and the receptionist on duty, we had a very pleasant meal of pork ribs, port wine, salad, and soup. Quite a nice end to a lovely stay in Lisbon.

Next up: Madrid. Oh, Madrid. However, this will be the last post of the day, as I have some lesson prepping to do. Yay, I'm a substitute teacher this week. Hopefully, though, I will continue my updating tomorrow, after work. 'Til then, duckies.

*Why, yes; that is indeed Bea Arthur and Angela Lansbury.
**Sweeney Todd reference, you fools!

Osterferien, Part II: Back in the U.K.

I lied; it's been a little more than half an hour.

Also, I wish I could locate my list of events, as that would really help me with this next leg of the journey. There's so much about which to write of England and my relatives, and I wish I had the list to help me make sense of all of it. Lists are a vague relic of my undergrad years, when I used to be kind of psycho-organized, even if I didn't have a planner. I find it amusing that I made the list in order to be organized, and I now can't find it.

Okay! So, we left off with the airport meeting of my relatives and the traveling Cellers, yes? Yes. As aforementioned, it was quite a relief to see Marion and James, and to see them happy that we had arrived. After expressing surprise that we had taken only one carry-on each--

--ah, yes. I had forgotten to mention that earlier. I only took one carry-on with me for the entire trip.

--we then drove back to Hassocks to Marion and James's house. I found this quite relaxing and entertaining (even though you Brits drive on the wrong side of the road, James), and it was nice to chat with Marion and James on the way. Upon entering the house, I was almost tackled by Skye, the family's large, fluffy, absolutely beautiful rescue dog. She reminded me so much of Poppet that I knew how to deal with her over-excited behavior, and she and I got along splendidly during our stay. It turned out that we were staying in Matthew's (their son's) bedroom, and he would be staying at Great Aunt Barbara's flat throughout the next few days.

Great Aunt Barbara features prominently in this story, but I shall have to save her introduction until a bit later in this post. Whoo, anticipation, whoo.

The next day, after breakfasting and having proper English tea (the most wonderful thing in the history of ever), Marion, James, Maryle, and I were on our way to London, which is roughly an hour away from Hassocks. The day was filled to the brim, and the highlights of the trip included the Globe Theatre, which sadly was off-season, and the Victoria and Albert museum. We actually took a guided tour through the Globe, as Marion and James had coupons that made entry relatively free. Our tour guide was an older woman with long, grey hair and a very "actorly" air about her. As another group entered the Globe, she whispered, "Possession's nine-tenth! Come on!" and rushed to the stage. My little Shakespearean heart was all a-flutter while touring the theatre, and I was a happy, parvo-less puppy (refer to the first post of the day).

"And though she be but little, she is fierce." -Will Shakez, my homie

I also discovered this wonderful gem at the V&A museum:

FIRST FOLIO. FIRST. FOLIO.

You know, this was my second time in London (the first being back in 2003), and when I returned this second time, it felt like nothing had changed. I remembered certain areas, and it was refreshing to spot St. Paul's in the distance. I very much like London, but I was to discover that, no, it's not my favorite place in England (nor does it deserve to be). That title belongs to another place, which will be explained later (whoo, anticipation, whoo). After a very long day in the city, we trudged back to Hassocks for fish 'n chips and a restful evening with the rest of the family (including Katie and Mat).

It's hard to tell if the next day or the day after that was my favorite of the entire trip, and I may have to give in and say that both of them were. The next morning, everyone got ready to visit Great Aunt Barbara before heading off to Brighton for the day. Now, this was the part that I was really looking forward to, and allow me to explain why:

Great Aunt Barbara is my late grandmother Olive's sister. She is a full ten years younger than Grandma and remained in England when Grandma moved to the States to marry my grandfather, whom she had met while he was serving as an Army war photographer in London. Grandma passed away two years ago in Florida, and ever since then I had been wanting some form of closure to the parts of Grandma's history that I didn't know. When I knew for certain that I would be visiting my relatives in England this year, I had an increasing hope that meeting Great Aunt Barbara would help close the door on some things, even if nothing was seriously in need to clarification. Well, I'm happy to say that I did get closure, and much more.

Yup, she's pretty awesome.

Needless to say, I was a little apprehensive about meeting her. I knew that everything would be fine and that she would be a nice woman, but I didn't realize just how much she would remind me of Grandma, particularly since they had spent most of their lives living so far away from each other. Though we only chatted briefly on Saturday before the rest of us headed out to Brighton, I did notice mannerisms and bits of speech that achingly reminded me of Grandma. And though I was told that she was quite shy, which was the case, Great Aunt Barbara made me feel welcome and promptly told me things that she knew I was curious about. We managed to talk a lot more when I visited her Sunday (Marion had very considerately planned for me a solitary visit, as she had rehearsal and Maryle wanted to go back to London), and it was...well, it was great. Not only did I learn more facts about Grandma, but I also learned quite a bit about Barbara herself, along with her late husband, John, and their children. And though I know this post is going to be "gasp-I-need-air" long, I want to narrate one or two stories that she told me.

I had always been curious about how exactly Grandma and Grandpa met. I had known that Grandma had been part of the lookout during the Blitz and that both of them lived in London at that time. What I didn't know was their first meeting. Turns out, Grandma had been on a train to northern England to visit either her sister-in-law (Grandma's first husband had been killed in the war, though no one found his plane or his body) or her boyfriend, and she couldn't find a seat because the Army soldiers had occupied the train car. Grandpa, who noticed, told her that she could sit on his bag, which sparked a conversation and an eventual date--and things just went from there. But, Barbara had other little gems to share with me: how she always got up early to help with breakfast, though Grandma would always sleep through it; how Grandpa would bring them all sorts of goodies; and how Grandpa was the only person to call Barbara "Babs." Things like this--supposedly "everyday" things--fascinate me.

But what I found so interesting about Barbara, other than her personality in her own right, was the fact that she told me how lonely she felt when Grandma moved away to the States--how she had viewed Grandma as someone who took care of her, particularly considering the age difference. Barbara was simply left alone, particularly when my great-grandmother also moved to the U.S., but she never implied or looked like she was resentful of this fact. Grandma and Barbara kept in touch and seemed to maintain a good relationship when all was said and done, but it was interesting, to me, to see how matter-of-fact Barbara seemed while talking about it. Barbara went on with her life, as did Grandma, and the two of them were successful in their own right because of it. I never knew some of the things that Barbara told me about herself, and I'm incredibly glad that I do now. Though she may not think so, she, along with the rest of that family, is a fascinating person.

I know this overlaps, but let's go back to Saturday. After our visit with Great Aunt Barbara, the family, Maryle, and I traveled to Brighton, which is only five minutes away by train. Maryle and I hadn't planned on going to Brighton during our stay, but as Marion and James suggested that we take a day trip there, we readily consented. And, I'm glad we did. Brighton is certainly an "artsy" town, as many art students live there and attend the university. In this vein, it reminded me a bit of Savannah, GA, but Brighton makes its own name by displaying its offbeat novelty shops, the great Pavilion, and its rocky beach. We spent the day browsing through the shops, spending lots of time talking, walking along the beach, being goofy, and stepping into a shop for hot chocolate and coffee when the weather took a nasty turn.

Yes, we're definitely related.

When we returned home, Maryle and I kept Marion company (er, distracted her) while she made dinner, playing random opera videos from YouTube and just talking about opera. Marion is an opera singer, and it was really quite neat talking to her about the different operas she's been in (Susanna in Marriage of Figaro, I kid you not). And dinner with the family was a treat, as Mat and Katie opened up a bit more, displaying their awesomeness, and just having a nice time with people I care about.

Sunday was a relaxing day, as Maryle headed off to London by herself, and Marion, the kids, and I went back to Brighton for some more shopping. As we were waiting for Mat back at the car, an elderly man struck up a brief conversation with me, and I had forgotten how nice it really is to have conversations like that (as not many Germans do this). Afterward, Marion dropped me off at Barbara's, and after a few hours chatting with her, all of us reunited for an evening at Devil's Dike, located on the Downs. I had a real Sunday lamb roast, which was delicious. Seriously, I do believe it was the best dish of the trip. A lovely end to a great day.

Monday saw the end of our stay in England, as our plane to Lisbon took off around 1:00 in the afternoon. But, that's not to say that we didn't do anything before then. I actually got my hair trimmed in Hassocks (Oh, happy day!) by a junior named Barnaby, and I must say that Barnaby did a good job. Afterward, we said a quick goodbye to Great Aunt Barbara, which was sad, as I wanted to spend more time with her, along with the rest of the family. But, Marion and James had more things planned; we went to Clayton Church, a small, ancient church where my Great Uncle John had been buried, and we went atop the Downs to get a good view of what was below. I will tell you a fact: if I were to spend every day of the rest of my life walking the Downs, I would be content. It is my favorite place in England.

It is that beautiful.

Another shot because IT IS THAT BEAUTIFUL.

After the Downs, we did have to pack up and leave. It was a tearful goodbye, to be honest, because I simply wasn't ready to leave this family and their wonderful hospitality. I had felt so at ease and at home in such a short amount of time, and I hadn't really felt that way before. Maybe it was because I was so excited to meet everyone, but what really surprised me is how everyone lived up to--and exceeded--my expectations. I had gone into the trip thinking that they were going to be awesome, and I came out of it with my mind blown at just how awesome they were. So, to Marion, James, Mat, Katie, Skye, and Great Aunt Barbara: Thank you for making me feel like a part of the family. Maryle and I had a wonderful time.

...Okay, see why I've been delaying updating?! Look at everything that I have to recount! Blargh, grawr, and other mean sounds. Next up: Lisbon.

Osterferien, Part I: Harrying Hamburg

Now that I have food, I am substantially less enthused to post. But post I shall, and I would say that I'd bribe myself with a Mandelhoernchen at the end, but that won't work, seeing as I've already eaten it.

The start of Maryle's and my romping two-and-a-half-week adventure was pretty much the worst part of our trip. In fact, it was even before we left Celle. Why, you ask? Guess whose Bahnhof is under construction even as I type? That's right; good ol' Celle's. This alone was not too much of a problem, though some of the bus lines had been re-routed because of this. It was a problem, though, when the train to Hamburg completely bypassed the Bahnhof because the track was closed.

Well, shit.

Since we needed to be at the Hamburg airport later in the evening (and it takes roughly two and a half hours to get there by train), Maryle and I were a bit, er, miffed that the train did not come. In a stroke of genius, however, Maryle suggested that we take the train to Hannover and then take the IC, a more expensive train, to Hamburg. So, that is what we ended up doing, rushing madly to the platform at Hannover and discovering that there was another train delay, breathlessly laughing almost hysterically at our predicament, and finally making it to the airport.

Yeah, Easy Jet? Never on time. And this isn't the only time that will pop up.

Still, we were simply relieved to be at the airport and at our gate in time, despite the one-hour delay. The flight itself passed without comment, and we were content to have landed at Gatwick, with the hopes of meeting my relatives with no more problems. As we tiredly wobbled to the customs desk, we had to backtrack a bit because we realized that we actually weren't considered members of the EU and were, in fact, Americans (I love how it's divided up into "EU" and "The Rest of the World"). We were then requested to fill out cards detailing our reasons for our say in the UK, but there was one, tiny problem: I had not been provided my relatives' address. After the reassurance from a fellow traveler that it didn't particularly matter if we jotted down an address or not, both Maryle and I approached two different customs desks. Maryle had the unfortunate luck of getting the obligatory Customs Bitch, who chewed her out for a good couple of minutes for "not knowing where she was staying."

HERE'S YOUR ADDRESS, CUSTOMS BITCH.

After that icing on the wow-this-day-sucked cake, we were very enthusiastically greeted by two of my now-favorite English people ever: my relatives, Marion and James. And, you know what? It made everything completely worth it. I was about to discover their hospitality and their inclusion of both Maryle and me into their family for a few days, which were the best few days that I have had in awhile...and definitely the best part of the trip for me.

Why, you eagerly ask as you grip the arms of your chair (stop that; chairs have feelings, t--no, they don't)? Stay tuned for more (in roughly half an hour)!

Cough, Cough, Hack

You know, I would like it if this kennel cough would go away. I'm pretty certain that it's eventually going to become parvo (yes, I know the two are unrelated), since I've had it since Barcelona.

OH HEY, how about that. So, yeah, that, um, Osterferien trip, there. I should get on that. Like, right now. Since it's been, you know, a month since the onset of that trip.

Yeah. Sorry about that. Isn't it funny how, when we actually have things about which to write, we really don't want to write at all? That's what I've been suffering lately, but that could just be the parvo talking.

Suffice to say, my Osterferien was very much an adventure, seeing as my travel partner in crime and I hopped from Hamburg, to Hassocks/London/Brighton, to Lisbon, to Madrid, to Barcelona, to Backnang/Murrhardt/Stuttgart, and then back to home, sweet Celle. Every location has at least one story behind it, some misadventures, and back pains, and each and every one of them should be recorded.

Good luck with that. Snort.

Seriously, though, I'm going to devote my day off to making individual posts about each location, so expect to be reading a lot, if you are one of my faithful followers. Additionally, faithful cult followers: HEY LOOK, I'M UPDATING; ISN'T IT GREAT? (COUGH, COUGH, HACK, DEAD)

But, before I go into things of yestermonth, here's a healthy helping of reflection and looking toward the future. You're going to have to eat every bit of it in order to get dessert, so suck it up and scarf down your peas.

It is now a little over two months before I head back to Huntsville, and though this is lingering in the back of my mind and slowly driving me insane by the mere thought of it, I really will be glad to be back. I have come to this decision, and it doesn't bother me in the slightest. Why? Why would I look forward to coming back and I not staying in Germany? Isn't that mundane? No, I don't particularly see it that way. My time here in Celle will be just enough because I'll have learned what I've needed by that time. This isn't to say that this is all that I need to learn from being and living abroad, for that's simply not the case, but for this particular time in my life, and for this particular experience, I find that all that I've learned has set the foundation for what I will contribute in my life. No, I don't have a firm grasp on exactly what that is, but this Fulbright grant happened for a reason and has undoubtedly shaped many aspects of my maturity and future growth. I simply don't believe that going back to Huntsville will stunt any growth whatsoever, and though I know I will not stay there for a long period of time (grad school be a-callin', fools), it's a pretty cool place to be. And I like it.

Huntsville. Land of the cult sticks (Green Mountain, July '09).

Admittedly, it will be great to reunite with friends and family and to have a solid social circle (say that three times fast), and I have been homesick every now and then. It's natural. But, I'm also really looking forward to the next step in my awesomeness, particularly when thinking about future studies and occupations. I'd like to study abroad (which I've actually never done), or find a specialization that allows me to travel and actively do something within the community, like teach English or whatnot. That would be, quite simply, awesome-sauce.

So, as I reflect on my accomplishments of these past months and determine just how this experience will contribute to what I'll do in the future (though I have only a small idea of how it'll pan out), I have no regrets. I like what I've done, and I look forward to seeing what I'll do later. Again, maybe it's the lucidity that kicks in right before parvo snuffs the light out of my puppy allegory, but things are lookin' up.

Yeah, that was difficult to swallow. Good job, though. Now, for dessert. Hamburg misadventure, here we come.

...after I purchase groceries. Being true to nature, I have no food.

Le Sigh.

Well, lookie here. I seem to have done it again. And by that I mean that I haven't updated at all this entire trip. Currently, I'm in a hostel in Barcelona, getting ready to head over to the Stuttgart area all of tomorrow (which will indeed take all of tomorrow). I've pretty much decided that I will save the updating for when I return to Celle, but I will make sure to divide posts up according to location. And, yes, I've already concocted (or am in the process of concocting) a list of events.

Talk to you soon, duckies!

Quickie

Hi, everyone. I'm currently comfortably situated in Lisbon, updating briefly before heading off to bed. My time in Hassocks, England was wonderful, and I hope to come back before my Fulbright tenure is up. I will update about it soon, along with my time in Lovely Lisbon (which has been a treat for the eyes and the soul). I just want to let everyone know that I'm alive and safe, and I promise many fun stories to tell.

See you soon, duckies.

The Obligatory Pre-Trip Post

It was almost warm enough today to not wear a jacket. Almost. Spring. Come. Now.

The week tends to fly by when you're not completely ready for something, and that is what has happened this go-round. I'm quite excited about my Easter break, which starts tomorrow afternoon: Maryle and I will head over to Hamburg and perhaps walk around while we wait for our flight to Gatwick airport, where my English relatives will be waiting for us. This is possibly the most exciting aspect of the trip, to me, as I've never met my English relatives, save for when I was very young--too young to remember. They are very kindly offering space for the two of us traveling Cellers until Monday, so I intend to spend my time to the fullest getting to know everyone.

After our stay in Hassocks, Maryle and I will then fly to Lisbon, Madrid, Barcelona, and Stuttgart, spending around two and a half days in each city. I'm a bit nervous about staying in the first three cities, honestly, as I don't speak Portuguese nor Spanish, and we are on our own. Still, the excitement outweighs the nervousness, and I'm pretty much convinced that things will go well. If anything, Maryle and I will get to see the beautiful architecture and culture that is the Mediterranean. We should be back in Celle by April 3rd.

Because of the long break and the many places we'll see, I'm going to try my best to not wait until the trip's end to update this blog. I should have Internet access at the places where I'm staying (providing that my Internet stick works in these areas and does not get stolen), so that shouldn't be too hard. (presses thumbs) Oh, what's that, you say? Pictures? Hell, yes. Those will be posted, too.

Anyway, almost everything is in order. I need to finish packing, send out a few emails, withdraw some money, check in online with the flights, take out the trash, and charge the electronics that I'm taking with me, but those won't take too long. Hooray for actually being responsible.

Though the week has passed by very quickly, it has been enjoyable. 2a once again made my day today, and as I was acting as the substitute (Frau Doehrmann has taken some students from the fourth grade on a class trip to Meudon, France), they behaved themselves rather well. I had prepared a bingo game for them in the form of the animals from The Mitten, which was fun, if loud.

Dylan: (in his very English accent) "Are you from the United States?"
Me: "Why, yes; I am."
Dylan: (nodding very self-satisfactorily) "That's what I thought. Did you know that there are more people in Washington D.C. than in Berlin?" (Which then starts another one of Dylan's Ramblings.)

These children are also very clingy. Or, perhaps I'm just a kid magnet. So many hugs today... Unbelievable.

One more class, and then Osterferien.