Day Three, Seems like Day Twenty

It is unusual for me to be awake for as much of day as I am, and especially to be awake and having things to do. I am presently at my job in the GIS Lab of the Geography Department (it is my first day, but since the labs for the classes haven't started yet, there is nothing to do and no one here). All I have to do is work through the first lab by two weeks from now to make sure if any of the students need help and if the lab instructor is not here, I can at least help them and show them how to do things. It is a fairly simple job, but pertinent to my major, and I get a couple of three hour time blocks in which to sit and work otherwise uninterupted. I plan on looking to it as a useful way of getting reading out of the way. I've found when employed in separate 1-hour time blocks versus a single multiple-hour time block, I am much less productive. Also, here at the GIS Lab, I get to listen to MPR without distraction.

My first couple of days have been long! I just finagled with my French Dept. boss, Theresa that in exchange for working the 8:30AM slot I can pick out the other hour I work there at my choosing. I also work there Monday from 2:20 to 3:20 and the same on Friday. Following work, I have Disciplines and Methods of Geography at 9:40. Then I have a three hour break for lunch - I'm considering getting the commuter meal plan, which will allow me a certain number of meals on campus so that I won't need to go home and cook for myself. However, it also allows me the flexibility to choose which meals I eat (bfast, lunch, dinner). I think I'll pick the 3:30 to 4:30 slot to work, just to round out my day. Following that, I have class again at 7PM with Professor Samatar. There are only seven people in the class, including myself, and I am one of two juniors (the other is my friend Soukeyna from Senegal). It is the sort of class that I like very much, because the professor is both engaging and well organized. He lectures in a way that lends itself very easily to taking notes. We are reading five books, three of which I've already gotten from the library, and the other two I plan to purchase off of Amazon. Ain't no way I'm going back to buying the godawfully expensive books at the Macalester Bookstore. What a ripoff! My Monday night class ends at 10PM, at which point I go home, relax, do what work needs to be done for Tuesday, and go to sleep.

On Tuesday, I wake up screaming in a cold sweat. Wait, no I don't. Scratch that. I am at the moment reading the November National Geographic, and I just read a snippet about how the Cavendish variety of the banana, the most ubiquitous variety of the popular fruit is being ravaged by a Malaysian fungus that threatens to wholly wipe out the plant. There is no cure to the fungus, which causes the leaves to wilt and die and subjects the rest of the plant to a lethal dose of sunlight. Since all Cavendish banana plants are genetically identical, there is nothing to stop the fungus, except through the efforts of scientific cross-breeding. So, eat your bananas before they're all gone! Okay, I have to finish this post before I leave, so here goes.

Tuesday, I have Urban GIS, which is a class of about 15 people. We don't have any texts for the class, and it is entirely practical. We are acting as a research firm for the Folwell Neighborhood of North Minneapolis and the Federal Reserve Bank to essentially study and put together in map- and related-data form whatever they want us to look at. Past classes have studied spatial mismatch (i.e. the distance between where someone works versus where someone lives), the foreclosure rate of homes in the Twin Cities, and even the density of Mac Alums in the immediate area around the college (it is shockingly high). It should be a neat class. Following that, I have nothing to do for the day until Trads at 10PM. We have three new members, two freshmen (Chaz and Rob) and a senior (Matt), and whilst I was away, the group received rave reviews. Yeah! After that, I fall asleep. Because I have such a wide gap in my day on Tuesday between class and my next obligation, I might be getting a radio show, like what I had last year, again with Carl and possibly with Ian Noble. Depends on what Ian says. No idea about themes yet. I am open to suggestions.

My Wednesday is still in progress, but I suspect it will be when I spend the most time on campus, as I have class from 9:40 to 10:40, then work at 2:30 til 5:30, and then class from 7:00 to 10:00. I think it might be best to eat dinner here on campus for Wednesdays. Thursday and Friday remain to be seen, and likewise the weekend. Other than that, nothing much new. Toodles.

Since I Know So Many of My Bibliophile Relatives Read This...

I sat down tonight, thinking, "Oh, I've got some time, and nothing really to do, since I can't read my texts which I haven't bought, and I don't want to go to sleep yet," and I went to go get a book. I have a whole stack of books in a box I had with me this summer, and in looking them over, I realized just how boring my summer reading list must've been. Books I've found in my box:

1: The Bottom Billion - about the poorest 1 billion people in the world
2: Universal Universalism - a book from my International Studies class that is 80 pages long and Heart-of-Darkness dense. You could stick a spoon up in it.
3: The Patterns of Human Rights Violations Among Illegal Immigrants in European Cultures - I got this book from the 'Free' section they have at the Library from time to time.
4: Third World Crap on a Stick - Yay!
5: Page After Page Filled With Boring Proselytizing By That 93-Year-Old Professor Who Refuses To Die and Open Up Another Tenure-Track Position

And so on and so forth. I haven't wanted to read for the last six months, in part because I've been in places far too interesting to stay put for more than twenty minutes. Now that I finally do, I have nothing to read! Grrrrr... Books that I want to read, and wish were here on my bookshelf:

1: The Silmarillion - I've read this book like 3 times already, and I want to get a fourth time under my belt so I can finally start quoting Elvish epic history. Yes, I am a total dork.
2: The Amber Spyglass - I read this book last year in two days. They were the most awesome two days of the winter.
3: Robert Heinlein - not a book, but an author. I need/want to read more by him.
4: The Mars Trilogy - Kim Stanley Robinson's most famous works. Two of them won the Hugo Award, and they seem quite interesting.
5: Where's Waldo? - A classic of the interactive detection genre.

Of course, I will not have any time to read literature after like, Wednesday. But, I want the option to have things to read, should a rare spare minute fall into my lap. But, now it is sleep time. Zoom!

My First Day of School! (For the 36th Time)

Hurray! School! Learning! Copious amounts of debt! Yay!

Today is the 26th of January, and I have officially begun my 6th semester here at Mac (I like to put it that way because it distracts me from the fact I'm almost a senior. Jeez.) My schedule is still in flux because I can't decide if I want to be an International Studies major (I've taken 2 of 5 required classes, along with all the required secondary classes - fulfilled by my Geography major and French minor (which I supposed have)). At the present, I am signed up to take:

Disciplines and Methods of Geography: Taught by Laura Smith, Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays from 9:40-10:40. This is required for all Geography majors, and it is mostly about the mathematics behind geographical knowledge, like "What does it mean when 57% of the population has cholera?" or "How do you figure out if this housing development is, in fact, dilapidated and should be demolished for the good of humanity?"

Urban GIS: Taught also by Laura Smith, and Birgit Mülenhaus, Tuesdays and Thursdays from 9:40 to 11:10. Not required, but I like GIS, and it is an enormously useful skill to have. It's how geographers earn money. It teaches you things like how to make maps, and interpret them. It's much more difficult than it seems.

I have to digress at this moment. My housemates just read me a quote about Warren G. Harding, regarding his many cronyist scandals while in office:

"I have no trouble with my enemies. It's my friends that keep me up walking the floors at night."

He also popularized the word 'bloviate', and gambled away the White House china.

Culture & Global Capitalism - Past and Present: Taught by visiting professor Amanda Ciafone, Wednesday night from 7:00 to 10:00. I have no idea what this class will be like, but it sounded cool, and I need to cover my bases for the potential IS major.

Now, my other class is a choice between the extremely easy, but creatively engaging Intro to Creative Writing, or the extremely difficult, but intellectually rewarding Paradigms of Global Leadership. The former is taught by Steve Healey, a man I know nothing about, and by whom I was not super impressed. The latter is taught by Ahmed Samatar, a man that at once frightens and inspires me. He's the sort of professor with whom that if you don't do the work, not only do you fail, you lose his respect, and that's even worse. My dilemma is that I don't want to shovel too much work onto my plate. However, I don't want to find myself halfway through the semester saying "This is boring". And, Professor Samatar might be on sabbatical next spring when I would otherwise take this class. So, I'm planning on going to the class this evening, seeing how it goes, and asking the professor what I ought to do.

Other than that, I am getting settled into my house. I have so far unpacked my clothes. That's it. Oh, I also filled out a request to have my work study award increased by about $400 so that I can work for both the Geography Department (as a GIS Lab Assistant) and the French Department. We'll see if that flies. I've been told it ought to. Other than that, I am getting settled. My housemates are all nice people. There are seven of us - Nick, Kai, Jeremy, Peter, Andrew, Max and myself. It is a quite large house, and my bedroom is in the basement - fully finished and well-heated. So, that is all from my end of town. I'm off to go look for cheap furniture, like bookshelves.

In the Land of Barack Hussein Obama

This morning, I woke up in my own bed! What a novel concept.

Today is January 22nd, and I have now been home for just over three days. I've had Mexican food, drank milk, and experienced the wonderful joy of having to help Dad dig the car out of the snow - he was backing it out of the driveway without realizing he was doing it crooked and managed to slide partially onto the lawn. The culture shock so far has been limited to saying to myself "Oh, the cars are big" and "Gas is so cheap!" Beyond that, it's mostly the little details, like having bars, restaurants and shops ad nauseam in a twenty foot stretch of road, and being able to walk everywhere. I guess I'll just have to hurry up, become an urban planner, demolish large sections of the Twin Cities, influence immigration policy so hundreds of thousands of Europeans can come here, and then rebuild everything in a more convenient fashion. That's for tomorrow.

I start classes on Monday. I am taking two geography courses, Urban GIS and Disciplines & Methods of Geography, as well an International Studies (IS) course on Capitalism, and either Creative Writing or an IS seminar on Paradigms of Global Leadership. They will all be exceedingly difficult, but I have made certain they are all instructed in English, and I'm sure I'll cope somehow. Also, tomorrow, I move into my spring housing. I will be living with a bunch of friends in a seven-bedroom house off of Ashland Avenue about three blocks away from campus. I've only been in the house once, in August, so I can't recall where I'll be living in the house or what the layout of the place is. I can only hope I will be comfortable and warm. Other than that, I've been sleeping well, eating well, and enjoying the sensation of not having to worry about catching a plane or a train or a bus. It's a quick vacation, but an enjoyable one all the same.

Montpellier me manque, but home is where the heart and college are.

Chapter 90: The End of Chapters 30 through 90

(Figure 1: The City of London)

I am at yet another one of Europe's small, out-of-the-way airports, awaiting yet another budget flight to a destination half-way across the continent (Okay, actually I'm now in Madrid, several hours later, but let's play pretend for a moment.) I am far better rested and fed than for my overnight at Gatwick five days ago, but for anyone who has had to stay up for a night in an airport, they aren't exactly Hiltons. Heck, they aren't exactly Motel Sixes. Even so, it always gives me a chance to sit for a few minutes or hours and think, which is what I am doing here and now.

(Figures 2-5: Parliament at Night from the South Bank; The Tower Bridge; Trafalgar Square, looking towards the National Gallery; what is a Humped Pelican, and why does it need a crossing??)

This is the beginning of my last genuine day in Europe. It has been 167 days since I set out in early August, on a bright and sunny summer day in Minnesota. I will be returning to midwinter, a period of time whose length is matched only by its harrowing intensity. Seeing that the only people who read this are from Minnesota, or have lived in Minnesota at one point in their lives, they know what I mean. Every culture talks about the weather -it's only natural- but for Minnesotans, we speak of the weather as a mix of birthright, contact sport, and divine judgement. When I tell people from Europeans that in my home state, temperatures can stay below 0F (I just round it to minus 15C, which is the rough equivalent) for weeks at a time, they simply don't believe me. For them -many of them coming from places that have stopped seeing snowfall and freezing temperatures altogether except for the blusteriest of days- they just don't believe me. They can't. I'm finding myself looking forward to the experience with a sort of "Oh... yup. Bit chilly here," attitude. Even though it is sacrilege to admit, all Minnesotans feel the cold, and yes, we even shiver. The weather here, even in London, has been phenomenal. When I arrived, it was naturally cloudy, but it was no colder than it had been in Portugal. The temperature held for the next several days, and is still as warm. Today, it was even sunny! What luck! While it certainly has not been traditionally warm, like if I had been in Hawaii or Key West, the weather I've experienced all "winter" long is purely a joke compared to what awaits me. I shall savor my last moments of breathing air that doesn't sting in the lungs, or hurt the eyes, or render the face, hands and toes lifeless and numb. I will have to appreciate the color of a landscape not overwhelmingly white, a snow-free world. What a novel thought.

(Figures 6-9: The Clock Tower, aka Big Ben; the dome of Saint Paul's Cathedral; the Tate Modern from the Millennium Bridge; the Millennium Bridge and the Financial District)

While I refuse to call it the greatest city in the world -that title in my mind being held by New York City- I will begrudge that London is one of the greatest cities in the world, and no one can argue that it isn't an interesting and diverse place. I have spent the last five days here with my friend Chelsea from Macalester. As I believe I have elaborated, she is just beginning her trip around Europe, her grand adventure, while I am ending mine. It is a frightening thing, to go off on ones own, especially since she has never been outside of North America before this. I tried to do with Chelsea what Martha did with me, she inviting me to Spain to go through the kiddy pool of Europe, rather than jumping off the deep end. I only hope that Chelsea had a good time and that she is not frightened of what lies ahead. I believe she is prepared. She is leaving London tomorrow afternoon to go to Copenhagen. I told her she should visit the Tower of London, since that was perhaps the one thing we did not get the opportunity to see. What we did see was a spectacular and impressive list of sites and venues. London having no end of things to do or see, we went to... CoventGardenParliament(Watchedadebateeven)WestminsterAbbeyBuckinghamPalace(IcomposedanimprompturapaboutQueenElizabeth.Chelsealaughed)HarrodsWellington'sArchTrafalgarSquareTheBritishMuseum(Twice!)TheNationalGalleryTheNationalPortraitGalleryTheTateModern(I'dneverbeen.Itwasquiteneat)WalkedalongtheThamesTowerBridgeSaintPaul'sCathedralPicadillyCircusLeceisterSquareLondonCityHallTheImperialWarMusuemBoroughMarketTheLondonPhilharmonicPortobelloMarket(OnSaturdaywhenalltheantiquedealersarehawkingtheirwares)HydeParkSpeakersCornerMarbleArchandManyManyTubestations. Yow! We saw a lot, and while I did not eat fish and chips (I find it to be, well, awful) Chelsea did and liked it. We did eat Indian food, which was especially good, and I had a pasty from a street vendor. It was exceptional for street food. Okay, now the highlights.

The coolest thing was seeing the London Philharmonic, which we saw on Friday night under the direction of Marin Alsop (one of a handful of female conductors, but a highly acclaimed and extremely talented conductor nonetheless) for a program of Strauss's Till Eulenspiegel, Mozart's 22nd Piano Concerto, Ravel's Daphnes and Chloé, and Stravinsky's Firebird. We sat in the absolute last row of the concert hall (what do you expect for nine pound tickets?) but the acoustics were superb and the angle of the seats allows you to see all the way without obstruction. One day, I will have to go see the Minnesota Orchestra and get a seat in like the sixth row, supposedly the best seats in the house, and see how a concert sounds at close range. While all my life I've enjoyed and appreciated sitting in the back, it's kind of like watching Star Wars on a laptop that is across the room. At the concert, we were joined by my friend Marc from Montpellier, who is spending this semester studying history at the University of Colchester. His aunt lives in London, and I having informed him of my being in London sufficiently in advance, he was happy to join us. It was weird having, like, the two halves of my life that have never seen each other collide! Macalester! Montpellier! Wow! Yes, the universe did explode, but no one was watching, so here we all are.

(Figure 10: The London Philharmonic Orchestra in the Royal Festival Hall)

The second coolest thing was going to the British Museum. It is always cool to go there, and the first time, we only got through about a quarter of the place in the course of three hours. We saw the Elgin marbles, the Rosetta stone, various artifacts from ancient Greece, Babylon and Egypt, and also saw the North American collection. Here is a picture of Chelsea and I next to the Rosetta stone. Chelsea is sheepish about taking pictures, but I am indefatigable, and won out in the end. I thought about getting Dad a replacement shirt of the Rosetta stone, but decided against it, not being certain if he had worn out his old one. Aside from the great and notable things in the museum, they also had an extensive exhibit that was kinda the history of the museum itself. The museum was founded in 1757, which Chelsea exclaimed makes it older than the United States, almost entirely from the collection of one man, a British gentleman scholar and doctor, Sir Hans Sloane. Over the last two and a half centuries, the museum has acquired some seven million pieces from all continents and every era of humanity. The exhibit in question focused on the Enlightenment and the beginning of scientific discovery and the methodical analysis of the natural world. It is arranged in a setting filled with cabinets of artifacts and books and displays of centered around the various subjects of thought that began to be studied during the Enlightenment. All while looking at this, I kept thinking to myself how cool it would be to have a) my own collection of historical artifacts and b) in enough quantity to start a museum. Like Dad always taught us, never throw anything away. It might be useful later.

(Figures 11-14: Chelsea and I in front of the Rosetta Stone; a Rock Crystal Skull; Marc in front of the Benin Bronzes, part of which I wrote about in Shoot That Bird!!; an Egyptian sarcophagus)

The third coolest thing was going to the National Portrait Gallery. To the best of my recollection, I had never been before. While many of the portraits from before the 20th century were completely unfamiliar to me save a handful, it was neat to see a lot of the more modern figures - Queen Elizabeth II, Princess Di, Prince Charles, Gordon Brown, various British actors and actresses and scientists and businesspeople who I only know from reading the BBC daily. I was surprised there was no portrait of J.K. Rowling. The Gallery also had in exhibition the entrants and winners of the Something Prize for photography, the premier art award in Great Britain (it was either the Turner Prize or the Booker Prize). Those photos were really neat, including one rather fearsome one of Vladimir Putin. I am certain that there are more portraits than what I saw, because I have a deck of playing cards that are the faces of famous British writers from the National Portrait Gallery, and I could only find Lord Byron, Beatrix Potter and James Joyce (technically British during his lifetime). I will just have to go back to find the rest.

I find myself saying that a lot: "I will just have to go back." At the same time, I find myself saying: "This is the last time I'll ever see this place." I discussed this with Chelsea, and remarked that when I first went to Japan in 2006, I had the feeling that I wouldn't return possibly ever again. Less than two years later, I was back. The world is getting to be a smaller and smaller place in terms of difficulties. It is no longer a once-in-a-lifetime event to go to Europe. It doesn't take weeks or days to cross the ocean, but hours. Marc has been to London so frequently that I noticed him saying about the British Museum, "Every time I come here..." as casually as if it were his local grocery store. Grandma Anne told me that I am part of Generation something-or-other, but the point of my generation was that I and those my age are traveling great distances for long periods of time in profound numbers and numerous times. We've become like migrating birds, temporarily depopulating whole cities to fill up ones half-way across the world. Like the shift change on a global mill - one flock of young adventurers picks up and moves on while another comes in to fill up the gap. It is a big world, and there is too much to see. I will be dead before I get the chance to see even a fraction of all I'd like to see. Every day though we all find something new, even in repetition or habit. I am looking forward to rediscovering what I've always had and always seen. My friends and family await me, and I won't keep them waiting any longer.

(Figures 15 & 16: Chelsea and her fish and chips; Marc and Chelsea at the Portobello Road Market)

That, and my visa expires in two weeks and they'd kick me out anyway.

P.S., talk about coming full circle - the hostel I'm staying at in Madrid is about two blocks away from the one Martha and I were at in August, and I glance up at the maid, and she's the same one!

Turn Left At Madrid, Go West 5000 Miles, Get Off Plane, Hugs, Mexican Food, Then Sleep In Own Bed. Serves 4.

I am on my way home.

News From Britain

This is just a quick update, since I haven't had time to properly collect my thoughts and reflections - my threflectioughts if you will. I made it from Lisbon to London just fine, after an exhausting 24-hour period without sleep, and successfully rendezvoused with my friend Chelsea. This is the first time she's ever been out of North America, so I have the obligation of warning her of all the perils of European indecency, like driving small cars and closing stores on Sundays. Quite unusual. So far, we've seen the British Museum - part of it, but we're going back -, the Tate Modern, the National Portrait Gallery and the National Gallery, Trafalgar Square, Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, Harrod's, and today we're off to the Imperial War Museum, maybe back to the British Museum, and then tonight, we're going to see the London Philharmonic! So, more details later. Tally-ho!

P.S., this we overheard on the street last night -

British Woman, arguing with some guy: "I don't care! My mink is worth more than her entire spandex wardrobe!"

Huh?

Yes, They Do Sound Like Drunk Russians.

My semester of Brazilian Portuguese I took last year has almost entirely flooded out of my brain. However, the one impression that has been left in there is that indeed, the Portuguese language sounds a lot like drunk Russian. Even the Portuguese admit this. When Ricardo was doing a month-long trip around Europe, he told me he would often be asked 'Are you Russian? It sounds like you're Russian'. It's a bad rap. Anyways.

On the 7th, Vilja and Vilma and I headed to Sintra, which is a town in the hills outside Lisbon that was a retreat for the royal family (before they were deposed in 1910 by Republican forces). Vilja and Vilma didn't want to pay the entrance fee to the Palace, so we simply had a picnic outside the mountaintop redoubt built by the Moors some centuries ago. Martha tells me I am really missing out. Well, true, but I have seen some other neat things. The Lisbon metro for instance - all relatively new, the majority of the stops are a public museum, decorated in modern art, beautifully tiled, and architecturally pleasing to the eye. It has also been the most expedient way of getting around. Lisbon is a bit too big to walk everywhere, unlike say Montpellier or Geneva, and between the layout of the city along a sweeping bend of the river, and the numerous hills, it is quite difficult to get around on foot. This contributes to a considerable pollution problem in Lisbon - I can even tell it's polluted, though in the winter time it is not as bad as in the summer. On the whole though, the city is quite clean and modern-looking, with skyscrapers (European skyscrapers) towering over most boulevards. After Vilja and Vilma and I returned from Sintra, we went to have a snack at the Café Nicola, one of two famous Lisboan cafés. We discussed things like "I thought I would hate everyone from the US, but not anymore" and "Did you ever read the Finn Family Moomintroll?" and "Is it true that Finland has one of the world's highest suicide rates?". They got really excited when I told them I knew Finn Family Moomintroll. They didn't get as excited when I asked them about suicide rates. Indeed, Finland does have one of the highest rates of suicide in Europe. I also learned that Swedish is the second official language of Finland - a fact I had never known. Vilja is Swedish by birth, but has lived in Finland all her life. We also lamented about being liberal arts students and having brilliant educations that will pay off to pocket change by the time we are done.

One thing that I have discovered here in Europe that I couldn't have ever discovered through study has been the simple experience of knowing that people - especially my age - are more or less the same all over the world. We listen to the same music, shop at the same stores, think a lot of the same things, do a lot of the same things, worry about the same things, and so on and so forth. It is of considerable comfort to come to this realization. It makes the world - an enormous place, I have also come to learn - a much less mysterious and foreign place. Ricardo, for instance, pretty much learned English by watching American cartoons as a child. All of this has also made me realize even more the impact of globalization. Its detractors may be critical of it, citing things like a growing wealth gap, continued cultural exploitation and envelopment, outsourcing, human rights violations, etc., but I am an optimist in this regard. Globalization is as old as humanity - it's only recently we put a term to it - and without it, we have much more to fear. Knowledge from books and study and lecture is important, but experiential knowledge can be far more epiphanic. Just the simple realization of "Oh, this Portuguese teenager can quote the Simpsons as well as I can" or "This USAmerican read the same childhood books as I did in Finland" is truly a wondrous blessing.

On the 8th, while Vilja and Vilma were out shopping and Ricardo was off studying, I went to the Castelo Sao Jorge. If none of my pictures turn out (which will provoke no end of swearing and wrath on my part) except the ones from atop the castle, I will only be supremely pissed, and not... uber-supremely pissed. Okay, so that's not actually any consolation. But, I look forward to getting those pictures developed. Like any good castle, there is no easy way of getting there. Any castle that has a direct route to it, well, is just plain easy to conquer. So, we tourists, like ancient warriors, have to meander through countless side streets up a maze to the top of the hill. On the plus, I got a couple of neat postcards, further fueling my postcard collection. After the Castelo, I walked back down to the downtown area where I picked up a bit of lunch. Lisbon has a ton of little cafés where you just go, stand at the bar, and if you know enough Portuguese to be able to say "I want this, please" (which I do), you can get a tasty little something for no more than 1.50E. It's reverse-highway robbery! In France, you can't even look at food without paying at least two euros. Another plus for Portugal. For dinner, Vilja, Vilma, Ricardo and I met to go up to the Barrio Alto to go listen to Fado. Fado is a particular style of music native to Portugal, sung by a singer accompanied by three guitarists. Many fadista are legendary in Portugal, and it is a beloved tradition by the Portuguese. It being a Thursday when we went out, the place in question was completely dead. Even the three fadista were looking a bit overdue for the crypt. Still, they sang quite well, and it was a neat cultural experience. The salmon I ate had too many bones though, so I was not super pleased. Merely pleased.

On the 9th, Vilja and Vilma left to go back to Helsinki, and I went to the Oceanarium. Having already been to the Monterrey Aquarium in California, ocenaria are all below the bar. I mean c'mon, the Monterrey Aquarium has like more otters than people. Still, the Oceanarium and the neighborhood it is in - the Park of Nations, the site of the 1998 Lisbon Expo - is very cool. Formerly an industrial area that had been in disrepair, the site was revamped into a long boardwalk of parks and cultural centers. Going to the oceanarium was also cool because I like things like that - zoos, science museums, etc. all interest me because I've moved mostly off the scientific track, but still have great interest in science. I'm also fascinated by the ocean - having been to it so few times I can count them on my hands. It is also fascinating for me to experience salt water, coming from a strictly freshwater background. If the water in the lake is too salty, it means that too many people have been peeing nearby. It being nearly dark by the time I got out, I went and walked down towards the Vasco de Gama bridge, which makes landfall near the area. It is LONG! You can't even make out the buildings on the far side. When I was driving across it coming into Lisbon, it seemed to go on forever. Afterwards, I went back to Ricardos and we made a bit of dinner. Part of couchsurfing - and being a good guest - is that you offer a gift to your host, and offer to clean for them, or, in my case, cook. Since Ricardo is a starving college student, I decided to ease his plight. I mean, I'm not a good cook, but the kid was impressed I could boil rice. I think I'll have to leave him some recipes. I made some pasta with tomatoes that I actually learned from my couchsurf host in Milan. Easy and genuinely Italian! For some reason though, the linguini sticks to itself though, despite me adding olive oil. A conundrum for which I will have to seek counsel.

That evening, what did we do? Well, if I can't recall on a moments notice, it probably wasn't interesting. The 10th! The 10th, I went off to Cascais, the western-most point in Europe. That's about it. It has a nice beach and a lovely view of the coast, but, hey, it's sand and rocks and tourist shops. I quickly headed back to Lisbon. Following Cascais, I went to the Gulbenkian Museum. Founded by Calouste Gulbenkian, a Turkish oil magnate who came to Lisbon in 1942 to seek peace amongst the chaos of war, he was a prolific collector of art, especially from the Middle East and Far East. As an aside, isn't it strange that, for we in the US, the Far East is to the West, and the Middle East is further away than the Far East. We really should start calling Europe the Middle East. They'd love that. The museum houses an impressive collection of art from the 14th to 20th century, especially from Persia and Turkey. What cool stuff it is! While European art was spent trying to figure out how to make one Virgin Mary with child look different from all the others, the art of Islam - by sharia forbidden from featuring the face of God - flourished in beautiful color and extraordinary geometric patterns. Like at the Alhambra, the Gulbenkian museum was a real treat. The museum also has an impressive garden winding about the grounds, which was pleasant for a stroll in the early moonlight. The moon above Lisbon, currently in full, has been quite impressive. With luck, my pictures of it will turn out well.

Today, I spent the day more or less indoors. I am currently in the stages of planning my next leg of the journey. I am off to London tomorrow evening, and on Tuesday, I will be meeting up with my friend Chelsea to head around the city before she heads off for Denmark and I to Madrid and then home. While it has been a true joy to see so much of Europe, I will be grateful to be back in the US where I don't have to plan out where I will be sleeping, what I'll be seeing and doing, etc. to such a high degree every day. One week!

P.S. Has anyone heard of Bruno Aleixo? He is a Portuguese dog puppet, formerly an Ewok, that speaks with a Portuguese hick accent and interviews famous people while conversing with his friend, Busto, a bust of Napoleon. It is an amazing and strange show.

A Week in the Last Sunny Place in Europe

No, I am not dead, nor have I gone missing. I apologize if my lack of journaling has been upsetting - I just haven't had a whole lot of free time. Today is my last full day in Lisbon, Portugal, and I have been here nearly a week now. I have been staying with a couchsurf host - again making me thankful for that website - named Ricardo in his apartment near the University of Lisbon. Like a number of couchsurfing places I've been to, it is a far nicer home than I would've ever expected. It's his parent's second flat, since they live in the Algarve region in the south of Portugal, and he gets it all to himself for university. Not a bad setup. Anyways, minor details.

First, a little bit of history of where I am. Lisbon (pronounced Lish-BO-a in Portuguese) is the capital of Portugal and is the south-westernmost capital city in Europe. It was founded over three thousand years ago by the Phoenicians who used it as a trading post, taking advantage of the natural harbor created by the Tagus River estuary. Over its history, it has been controlled by the Greeks, Romans, Visigoths, Moors and Spanish, and today the city encompasses about three million people in an urban area stretching to the Atlantic. The most prominent geographical features about the city are the Tagus River (the Rio Tejo - in Portuguese unlike Spanish, J's are pronounced as J's) and the seven hills of Lisbon. The old city of Lisbon is situated between two of the hills (they don't have names), and is the area that was destroyed by an earthquake in 1755. As a result, the layout of the streets is entirely rectilinear, a rarity in Europe. To the east of the downtown is the Castelo Sao Jorge, the old fortress built originally by the Moorish around a thousand years ago. As far as castles go, this one is extremely cool - it looks out over all of Lisbon and offers a stunning view, and you can climb all over its walls and such. It's rather neat. To the west of the downtown is the Barrio Alto, or High Neighborhood, because it's on a hill and some streets seem almost vertical at times. This is also where all the bars are, and on Friday and Saturday nights, the streets are thronged with people. Lisbon is only on the north side of the Tagus, because here at its mouth, it's narrowest point is still over a mile wide. Thus, there are only two bridges across the Tagus in the whole of Lisbon - the Ponte 25 de Abril, built in the style of the Golden Gate Bridge, and the Ponte Vasco de Gama, the longest bridge in Europe at slightly over seven and a half miles in length. Having only two bridges for a major metropolitan area creates numerous traffic problems.

When I left Germany, it was freezing cold, cloudy and rather dismal, except seeing Anja and saying goodbye, which was as always, nice. Arriving in Faro in southern Portugal, it was almost 60F, sunny, and green! The leaves are still on most of the trees, and the grass is still quite alive. Lisbon, even in January, is quite lovely and warm enough that I don't need to shiver every instant I am out of doors. In sunlight, I don't even need my jacket! Hurray! So, now that the history lesson is out of the way, I shall describe what I've been doing...

I arrived on the 5th from Germany, which I describe in my last entry, and met Ricardo at the Lisbon bus station. He is a mechanical engineering student, and it is the middle of exam season for him. Our first night, we both more or less vegged out. I recuperated, and he studied linear algebra. The 6th, we both went into the downtown area to walk around. We had lunch - I had bacalhau, Portuguese cod. Despite my usual indifference towards white fish, I liked it. It came with rice and razor clams. After that, we went to go meet two other couchsurfers that Ricardo was hosting - Vilja and Vilma from... FINLAND! I've never met real, live Finns! Just imitation Finns, like Judy or my friend Chelsea. They decided they'd had enough of the cold, dark Finnish winter, and had come to Portugal for a brief respite. Once we got their bags back to Ricardo's apartment, we went to Belém, a neighborhood of Lisbon on the Tagus that before the 1755 earthquake used to be in the Tagus. The Torre de Belém, a fortress tower that once defended the city against pirates, once stood in the middle of the river, and is now firmly on the bank. There is also the monument to the Discovery - the period of time when Magellan and Vasco de Gama were taking off for parts unknown. Belém is also famous for its Pasteis, little pastries made of cream that are both affordable and tasty.

I forgot to mention, but Portugal is the most affordable nation in Europe. This is because until 1975, it was a fascist state under the control of the dictator Antonio Salazar. His rule, coinciding with the global end of colonialism, meant that the Portuguese were forced into defending their colonial holdings from pro-independence movements. The subsequent wars, especially in Angola, have left the legacy of Portuguese colonialism extremely tainted. It is interesting to note that Portuguese is, I think, the 6th most spoken language in the world. This is because of Brazil, that one-time holding of the Portuguese that I would like to travel to one day. The Colonial Wars that Portugal fought, along with being under fascist rule for nearly forty years left the national economy destitute, and while joining the EU and other investments in the public good have improved the standing of many Portuguese, it still means the standards of living are lower than say, France or Germany. This, coupled with warm weather, makes Portugal an extremely beautiful place for tourists.

I have to run get dinner now, and rather than suspend writing this even longer, I'll post this, and continue the rest later this evening, hopefully. Tchau!

Chapter 82: In Which Our Adventurer Is Spoiled Rotten

Today is January 5th, and I am presently at the Frankfurt Hahn Airport somewhere supposedly near Frankfurt am Main, Germany. In fact, upon consulting a map, the airport is actually closer to France than it is to Frankfurt. It's a hub for budget airlines. Go figure. At least I have a power outlet and a full season of Babylon 5 to pass the time. (While staying here with Anja, she and I picked up watching Babylon 5, quite a good show the likes of which I couldn't appreciate when it was on the air because well, it was on cable and I was 6 when it began. For how old it is, it's an impressive work of science fiction). I have just concluded my visit to Germany, care of Anja. For those of you who do no know who Anja is, she is my third sister, being that in all but law and blood. I first met her as a German exchange student (her, not me) who came to live with my family when I was twelve. During the year she stayed with us and the subsequent seven, she has become as much a part of our family as anyone else.

Upon my completion of my studies in Montpellier, it had been my intention to spend Christmas and New Years with her, rather than come home or spend it by myself. To say that it has been a compromise on my plans would imply that something was lost. And that I had plans. No, I can say with little hesitation that I can think of no better way to have spent my time at a period that is normally filled with family, tradition and aspects of my life that are as deeply ingrained in me as who I am. Spending Christmas alone, I imagine, is difficult. I am extremely glad that that was not the case with me. Upon arriving in Germany, after the debacle at the Milan airport, I was rather pissed at myself and frustrated on a number of levels. I don't know whether it was karma or something else that I should have received the hospitality I was given. To spend Christmas with ones family is largely something taken for granted. To spend it with someone else's family is both a rare treat and something I consider to be one of the warmest gestures of kindness possible.

(Figure 1: Anja and me)

It began on Christmas Eve - Weinacht, in German - at her father's house in Lutherstadt-Wittenberg. Her father, his wife and two sons put me up for about a week, as well as feeding me, taking me around, and even offering to wake me up so I could better appreciate consciousness. Words don't do it justice. They even got me presents! Which made me feel quite bad, because I had not really gotten anything for them - although in the end Anja dropped me off at the local big box store and I picked up what I could on a few hours notice. For people I'd known for maybe two days, gift giving was rather generic. Details, though. On the 25th, we drove to Saxony to stay with her mother's sister (her 'aunt', you might say) for a few days. Prior to arrival, I merely had the vague notion that I would be "staying with Anja and her family until I left". What I got instead, was a royal treatment. Anja's aunt Elke and her family fed me scrumptiously - lots of chocolate and a full array of German cuisine, and I am a big fan of red cabbage now - as well as showing me around the cities of Meißen and Dresden. When I say showing me around, I mean that Elke had taken it upon herself to see that I received as much of a cultural education about the area as possible. There were tours, sightseeing, this that and the other thing, and I couldn't have asked for better. I am quite lucky.

(Figure 2: The Reichstag)

Dresden is the capital of Saxony and one of the major cities of Germany. Beginning on February 13th, 1945, the Allied Forces began an extensive firebombing campaign of the city that rivaled the destructive force of the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Thousands of people were killed and even more were left homeless. Kurt Vonnegut, Jr. experienced the firebombing while a prisoner of war and wrote about it in his novel, Slaughter-House Five, a book which I quite enjoy. In my life, I have seen Hiroshima, the Normandy beaches, and now Dresden - some of the most horrific killing fields the world has ever known. I always feel remorse when I see places like that. I do not like war, and while I will not say it is unnecessary, it is always brutal, and true to the saying, no one wins. I digress. Dresden today is a beautiful city, returned to its baroque-era marvel. When I think of Europe, I imagine places like Dresden. Big, gothic spires, grand houses, and monuments dotting the landscape like trees. Another side note, the Germans have more trees in their cities than the French. I don't know why this is, but I like it. Reminds me of the Twin Cities. My words won't do the place justice, so lucky for you and for me I commandeered Anja's camera. Here are pictures!

(Figure 3: Dresden across the Elbe)

After Dresden, Anja and I returned back to Wittenberg, where her father showed us around the city for a little bit. Both Wittenberg and Dresden are on the Elbe River, which in 2003 experienced a hundred-year flood that caused billions of euros of damage and inundated miles of towns and countryside and generally did what floods do. On our tour, Anja's father pointed out just how much of the area had been flooded. Note the pictures. Lutherstadt Wittenberg is called what it is because it is the home of Martin Luther, the co-founder of the Protestant movement. I got to see the door where he nailed up his 95 theses. Originally, it had been 100, but the nail got in the way. That is why Protestants aren't required to ride ostriches, and why every time a Protestant sings "A Mighty Fortress Is Our God" they no longer have to do the Maccarena to it.

On the 30th, Anja and I headed to Berlin for New Years. Again, I had simply had the vague notion that we were "going to Berlin for New Years", and I would let her take care of the details. Upon reflection, it's quite unusual for my neurotic, plan-obsessed self to leave so much to other people. I've found, traveling around these last five months, that when I go by myself, it's a lot easier. I only lose my things, I only get myself lost, and I only wind myself up in strange and possibly health-diminishing situations. Still, I've enjoyed a bit of company. The greatest challenge for this month alone by myself has been, well, being alone by myself. Not that one can be alone in any other sense. I mean, automatically, the presence of others negates being along, so you... I'm rambling. Then again, I've been rambling since I learned to talk. Probably earlier. We stayed with her friend Ines, whom Anja has met in Ushuaia in Tiera del Fuego, and her boyfriend Andreas. Anja and Ines were talking one night about Ushuaia, and told me that in German they had just called it "the ass of the world". Sometimes I wonder just how much I'm losing in translation. I am also extremely appreciative for Anja acting as my ears, and I can't imagine how much of a bugger it is to have someone latched on who is effectively deaf without you. Thank you for that, Anja. You're a good sport. Ines and Andreas live in Kreuzberg, the largely Turkish area of Berlin, one of those places the anti-Jane Jacobs of the world would call a slum. She and I would both disagree with this assessment, and I found it to be a very neat area. On New Years Eve, they were lighting off fireworks at a rate and in sizes that rivaled those being launched at the Brandenburg Gate. I didn't go down to the huge party there because it was a) a million people strong, and b) cold. Instead, we had a small party at the apartment. It was only mildly different than my usual New Years, the last three of which have been spent in Emilio's basement with all my high school friends. Which, don't get me wrong, is a most excellent time. However, I do that about once a week when I get the chance. Anyways, it's about 2AM, and my flight is at 6:50, and I should get some bit of sleep, so I'll wrap up.

(Figure 4: Me at the Fernsehturm)

Our New Years day was spent playing Wii (tennis really takes it out on your shoulders), which was a lot of fun. I perhaps didn't get to see as many of the big cultural sights of Berlin as I ought to have - no museums, didn't see the Philharmonic which I would've liked to have seen, but I did see a lot of the monuments like the Fernsehturm, the Memorial Church, the Reichstag, and so on. After that, we popped back to Wittenberg, and had a brief trip to Magdeburg so Anja's father could take her shopping (he had deemed the clothes she had got in Berlin unsuitable), and I got to see a bit of that city. In January, not that interesting. But, Elke has given me a standing invitation - almost an order - to come back some summer and she will show me around Saxony some more. Perhaps when I tackle Eastern Europe, a place that is on the roster for later in life. To wrap up, I've had an amazing time here. I was spoiled rotten, so much that I actually feel bad. Few people have ever gotten away with spoiling me, as Grandma Anne, Mom, Dad, and others can attest. The hospitality I have been shown here has left me marked in a way that I cannot easily repay. The kindness that has been done unto me, I shall work henceforth to give back to those who wish it. My next port of call is Lisbon. Upon extensive contemplation, I've decided to scratch Morocco from my voyage - it's just unfeasible to get there and see enough in the time that I have. Another day. After Lisbon comes London, and after a night in Madrid - home.

(Figure 5: Martin Luther's church - Anja and I in the foreground)

And now the daily quote from Ambassador Mollari:

"When I said my quarters were cold, I did not mean "Oh I think it's a little chilly in here. Perhaps I'll throw a blanket on the bed." No, I said it was COLD. As in "Oh look, my left arm has snapped off like an icicle and shattered on the floor."