Well, the half-way point of my sojourn in Espana has come and gone.
Et aujourd'hui, c'est Halloween!
Those two sentiments pretty much sum up the experience. My Spanish is much better than I ever could have hoped for, but I just recently realized something: my French is deteriorating at a asymptotic pace. I recently tried to do the months of the year, and I couldn't without some help. Forming simple sentences is difficult, and to hell with longer ones. I can still read it (Thank you, random stranger who translated a "South Park" episode into French), but all the same, it seems like one language is indeed coming along at the expense of another. Alas.
Additionally, no matter what anyone may tell you about how much the rest of the world hates America (and they do), the southern Europeans, at least, cannot seem to get enough of our culture. They know our movies. They listen to our music. They steal our words. And even now, I see kids walking up and down the streets of Granada in Halloween costumes. Just tonight, there was a crowd of thronging college kids pushing to get into a costume shop. It was a bit unbelievable.
Not much doing today; midterms went well and classes are chugging along at their lethargic pace. Viva Espana.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Serenissima
Italy, Italy, we're done for a while. Its been two quick flings, but let's face it sweetcheeks: you and I just ain't cut for each other.
Don't get me wrong; that last time especially was fun. But after the strike at Malpensa (foreshadowing: Malpensa roughly means "evil thought" in both Italian and Spanish) that delayed my flight to Madrid (la Realissima) for almost 5 hours, your capricious ways and fading looks just won't be enough to lure me back.
*Begin flashback*
The weekend previous was very slow, and a bit lonely. It was alleviated somewhat by spending some time with my friend Lauren, from El Paso by way of Amherst College. We get along well enough, and like to share jokes about Massachusetts. I do miss Brandeis, I will admit. But the longer I am here, the more I am convinced that this has been a great experience for me in more than just my resume, both academic and personal. I have learned a lot about how I interact with other people now that I've been stuck in a foreign culture for a month and a half and I hope to learn even more in my remaining time here.
I woke up on Tuesday morning feeling unusually exhausted. I was naturally more than a little confused, considering I had just gotten a full night's sleep. Within about 5 minutes, my excessively runny nose told the tale: I had a head cold.
I spent the next 48 hours in a bit of a fog, but by Thursday I was feeling better after I aggressively made sure to get at least 10 hours of sleep, and I bought a box of tea. However, I was apprehensive because I knew that I'd have to spend Thursday night in the Malaga airport, b/c my flight to Milan left at 10 in the morning, and no bus left Granada early enough to make it feasible to spend the night at home. Sleeping in the airport is never really sleeping. Its more like a disjointed series of nodding offs. And that's precisely what happened. I managed to snag about 5.5 hours in the airport, even though I officially went to sleep at midnight and woke up at 7:45. Fortunately, the flight from Malaga to Milan was 2 hrs, so I was able to bring my total up to 7.5, but I still wasn't feeling 100%. To make matters worse, I woke up just as my flight was descending with my right ear in a world of blistering pain.
I got out of the airport, and took the bus to downtown Milan. I had about 5 hrs until my train to Venice, and my only real goal was to see La Scala. Unfortunately, I didn't find it. Apparently, the Milanese don't consider it important enough to have signs pointing to it, but I did get some pretty fantastic pictures of the main cathedral of Milan. Definitely by far the coolest cathedral I've seen yet.
But in terms of Milan in general, I was somewhat disappointed. Milan is supposed to be the most vibrant city in Italy, and as far as I could tell (having not really gotten acquainted with Rome), it was. But everything was just a little....shabby. I'm perhaps being too harsh. On the outskirts, there were some bright, clean buildings. But the overall impression was a world-class city that could have been. Italy is famous as being the recurrent underperformer in the EU economically, and my general impression has been consistent with that assessment. Milan has a nice subway system, cool trams, a modern airport, knowledgeable and friendly people, and was the only city in Italy that I've visited so far that felt like it subsisted more than on food or tourism. But for all of that, both Barcelona and Madrid are shinier and more friendly-looking places to travel.
A note to all of the European aficionados. In Milan, I will proudly say that I ate a Burger King. I would have eaten at McDonalds, but I didn't see one until afterwards. Why, you may ask, do I bring this up? Because there was no way in hell that I was going to waste the time and money trying to hunt down some "authentic" Italian eatery and try to communicate with waiters who spoke no English. It was enough of a pain in the ass at Burger King, where the waiter thought that "il numero quatro" meant that I wanted 4 chicken sandwiches, instead of the #4 on the menu. But regardless, I am tired of lectures about eating authentic food while abroad. That's great when you speak the language, or you have a travel guide. However, like hell am I going to do it just to show how "un-American" I really am.
So around 5, I trucked my stuff together and headed back to the train station, and headed off to Venice. Train ride was uneventful, and I rendezvoused with Marina at 9:00 P.M. and we got onto the bus and headed to our hostel, which was near the airport. I was still feeling under the weather, so I conked out immediately. Unfortunately, the room was extremely poorly heated, so I did not get a peaceful night's sleep. I woke up the next morning resolved to push through the fatigue and enjoy what Venice had to offer.
And boy was that a good decision. By far my favorite city in Italy is Venice. I was expecting the worse, to be honest. Venice is the only major city in the world where there is no motor traffic downtown. It's economy is powered almost exclusively by tourism. Its in a country notorious for economic mismanagement. The thousands of visitors every year are legendary for defacing the city little by little. And it doesn't help that Venice is in fear of being swamped by its own lagoon. Nevertheless, I've wanted to go to the Queen of the Adriatic my entire life; infinitely more than I wanted to ever go to Rome. Venice is such an important part of world history, far more than almost any city you'd care to name in Spain, that it was a necessity. And I must say, my fears were unfounded.
Venice was vibrant. Venice was clean. Venice was alive, and I had the time of my life there. The lack of motor traffic made navigating the city much more of a free-spirited adventure then having to dodge traffic in Madrid or Florence. Our first stop was to check out the old Jewish Ghetto, which was near the train station. Venice has the world's oldest ghetto, and in fact, its where the word comes from. At the time, the Jews were consigned to living in the far north quadrant of the city, which was near some getti, or foundries. Although the surviving Jewish population is small, we did find the old synagogue with a full-page article about the community from the Wall Street Journal and a picture of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, so obviously, there were still a few folks kicking around. Just to seal the deal, there was a small street of Jewish bakeries and and Israeli restaurant. We deemed this legit, as there seemed to be very few tourists in this section of the city. Satisfied, it was on to find pizza!
We were recommended a place due south from the Jewish quarter, in the Dursoduro district. It wasn't hard to find, but alas, the place was closed by the order of the law for.....tax evasion. Or at least, that's what we think it was. My italiano isn't so good, although I must say I could generally follow a conversation. Unlike my friend Catalan. Anywho, we started walking towards the Grand Canal and we managed to find a pizza place on the way. We located the Rialto bridge, the largest of only 3 bridges that crosses the Grand Canal:
(Add picture here: Blogger not letting me upload pics again)
We crossed on the Rialto, and headed into the San Marco neighborhood, home not only some of the oldest parts of Venice, but also the world-famous St. Mark's Square, Basilica, and Bell Tower. In spite of what you may think, geographically speaking, St. Mark's isn't in the center of the city proper, but instead at the bottom, on the lagoon (the honor of being in the center belongs to the Rialto, more or less.) It took us a good hour of just wandering purposelessly through the streets to stumble upon St. Mark's. And what timing we had:
(Add another pic here. For simplicity's sake, you can link to the facebook album for now that Marina's put up documenting the trip until I can get this damn thing to work:
http://brandeis.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2040025&l=ba1eb&id=9804049
http://brandeis.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2040026&l=95150&id=9804049)
All right, anyway, the plaza was amazing. Most of the tourists were gone, so we got to watch the sun set and the lights come out over the plaza. A live band was playing what I'm 99% sure was the Radetzky March by Strauss Sr. and it really added a sense of magic to the whole place.
The next day, we walked around the city some more, and we headed back to St. Marks in order to find the Arsenal (Dad, I was thinking of you.) and to get into the Doge's Palace. Unfortunately, the Arsenal's museum was closed (it was Sunday), but we did manage to get into the Doge's Palace. What a treat! We couldn't take any pictures, but it was truly amazing. Although the Doge of Venice never had much political power, he was still given a position of respect unequaled in the Republic (think the Japanese Emperor), so almost every inch of his palace was a work of art. I was really taken aback by the frescos on the ceilings, usually depicting religious scenes, but the coolest was the Doge's waiting room. In it were two giant globes of the world, made in the 1700's, and the walls itself were maps of the known world. It was neat to see both how relatively accurate the maps were and to see what was considered "Terra Incognita" at the time.
We left the Doge's palace and decided to get some gelatto, per the recommendation of a friend. We got a little more than we bargained for (each serving was monstrous), but like good children we ate every bite. The sun was beginning to set and the chilly wind of the lagoon began to blow, so we packed it in and headed towards the docks, and after finding out that a gondola cost 80 euro, decided to take a water bus for 6. The pictures are in Marina's album, but I must say, the ride up the Grand Canal to the bus station was a once in a lifetime experience. It was just stunning to see the heart of Venice from the center of its brackish artery, and gaze at the barnacled water-marks on the side of stately 16th century homes, stores, and mansions.
The next day, I took a train back to Milan, and after a 4 hour plane delay, headed home to Madrid, and then to Granada. I was really pleased with this trip because not only did I see almost everything I wanted to see, but Venice's charm was irresistible and it colored all of my memories of my trip in a warm, happy hue.
Don't get me wrong; that last time especially was fun. But after the strike at Malpensa (foreshadowing: Malpensa roughly means "evil thought" in both Italian and Spanish) that delayed my flight to Madrid (la Realissima) for almost 5 hours, your capricious ways and fading looks just won't be enough to lure me back.
*Begin flashback*
The weekend previous was very slow, and a bit lonely. It was alleviated somewhat by spending some time with my friend Lauren, from El Paso by way of Amherst College. We get along well enough, and like to share jokes about Massachusetts. I do miss Brandeis, I will admit. But the longer I am here, the more I am convinced that this has been a great experience for me in more than just my resume, both academic and personal. I have learned a lot about how I interact with other people now that I've been stuck in a foreign culture for a month and a half and I hope to learn even more in my remaining time here.
I woke up on Tuesday morning feeling unusually exhausted. I was naturally more than a little confused, considering I had just gotten a full night's sleep. Within about 5 minutes, my excessively runny nose told the tale: I had a head cold.
I spent the next 48 hours in a bit of a fog, but by Thursday I was feeling better after I aggressively made sure to get at least 10 hours of sleep, and I bought a box of tea. However, I was apprehensive because I knew that I'd have to spend Thursday night in the Malaga airport, b/c my flight to Milan left at 10 in the morning, and no bus left Granada early enough to make it feasible to spend the night at home. Sleeping in the airport is never really sleeping. Its more like a disjointed series of nodding offs. And that's precisely what happened. I managed to snag about 5.5 hours in the airport, even though I officially went to sleep at midnight and woke up at 7:45. Fortunately, the flight from Malaga to Milan was 2 hrs, so I was able to bring my total up to 7.5, but I still wasn't feeling 100%. To make matters worse, I woke up just as my flight was descending with my right ear in a world of blistering pain.
I got out of the airport, and took the bus to downtown Milan. I had about 5 hrs until my train to Venice, and my only real goal was to see La Scala. Unfortunately, I didn't find it. Apparently, the Milanese don't consider it important enough to have signs pointing to it, but I did get some pretty fantastic pictures of the main cathedral of Milan. Definitely by far the coolest cathedral I've seen yet.
But in terms of Milan in general, I was somewhat disappointed. Milan is supposed to be the most vibrant city in Italy, and as far as I could tell (having not really gotten acquainted with Rome), it was. But everything was just a little....shabby. I'm perhaps being too harsh. On the outskirts, there were some bright, clean buildings. But the overall impression was a world-class city that could have been. Italy is famous as being the recurrent underperformer in the EU economically, and my general impression has been consistent with that assessment. Milan has a nice subway system, cool trams, a modern airport, knowledgeable and friendly people, and was the only city in Italy that I've visited so far that felt like it subsisted more than on food or tourism. But for all of that, both Barcelona and Madrid are shinier and more friendly-looking places to travel.
A note to all of the European aficionados. In Milan, I will proudly say that I ate a Burger King. I would have eaten at McDonalds, but I didn't see one until afterwards. Why, you may ask, do I bring this up? Because there was no way in hell that I was going to waste the time and money trying to hunt down some "authentic" Italian eatery and try to communicate with waiters who spoke no English. It was enough of a pain in the ass at Burger King, where the waiter thought that "il numero quatro" meant that I wanted 4 chicken sandwiches, instead of the #4 on the menu. But regardless, I am tired of lectures about eating authentic food while abroad. That's great when you speak the language, or you have a travel guide. However, like hell am I going to do it just to show how "un-American" I really am.
So around 5, I trucked my stuff together and headed back to the train station, and headed off to Venice. Train ride was uneventful, and I rendezvoused with Marina at 9:00 P.M. and we got onto the bus and headed to our hostel, which was near the airport. I was still feeling under the weather, so I conked out immediately. Unfortunately, the room was extremely poorly heated, so I did not get a peaceful night's sleep. I woke up the next morning resolved to push through the fatigue and enjoy what Venice had to offer.
And boy was that a good decision. By far my favorite city in Italy is Venice. I was expecting the worse, to be honest. Venice is the only major city in the world where there is no motor traffic downtown. It's economy is powered almost exclusively by tourism. Its in a country notorious for economic mismanagement. The thousands of visitors every year are legendary for defacing the city little by little. And it doesn't help that Venice is in fear of being swamped by its own lagoon. Nevertheless, I've wanted to go to the Queen of the Adriatic my entire life; infinitely more than I wanted to ever go to Rome. Venice is such an important part of world history, far more than almost any city you'd care to name in Spain, that it was a necessity. And I must say, my fears were unfounded.
Venice was vibrant. Venice was clean. Venice was alive, and I had the time of my life there. The lack of motor traffic made navigating the city much more of a free-spirited adventure then having to dodge traffic in Madrid or Florence. Our first stop was to check out the old Jewish Ghetto, which was near the train station. Venice has the world's oldest ghetto, and in fact, its where the word comes from. At the time, the Jews were consigned to living in the far north quadrant of the city, which was near some getti, or foundries. Although the surviving Jewish population is small, we did find the old synagogue with a full-page article about the community from the Wall Street Journal and a picture of the Lubavitcher Rebbe, so obviously, there were still a few folks kicking around. Just to seal the deal, there was a small street of Jewish bakeries and and Israeli restaurant. We deemed this legit, as there seemed to be very few tourists in this section of the city. Satisfied, it was on to find pizza!
We were recommended a place due south from the Jewish quarter, in the Dursoduro district. It wasn't hard to find, but alas, the place was closed by the order of the law for.....tax evasion. Or at least, that's what we think it was. My italiano isn't so good, although I must say I could generally follow a conversation. Unlike my friend Catalan. Anywho, we started walking towards the Grand Canal and we managed to find a pizza place on the way. We located the Rialto bridge, the largest of only 3 bridges that crosses the Grand Canal:
(Add picture here: Blogger not letting me upload pics again)
We crossed on the Rialto, and headed into the San Marco neighborhood, home not only some of the oldest parts of Venice, but also the world-famous St. Mark's Square, Basilica, and Bell Tower. In spite of what you may think, geographically speaking, St. Mark's isn't in the center of the city proper, but instead at the bottom, on the lagoon (the honor of being in the center belongs to the Rialto, more or less.) It took us a good hour of just wandering purposelessly through the streets to stumble upon St. Mark's. And what timing we had:
(Add another pic here. For simplicity's sake, you can link to the facebook album for now that Marina's put up documenting the trip until I can get this damn thing to work:
http://brandeis.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2040025&l=ba1eb&id=9804049
http://brandeis.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2040026&l=95150&id=9804049)
All right, anyway, the plaza was amazing. Most of the tourists were gone, so we got to watch the sun set and the lights come out over the plaza. A live band was playing what I'm 99% sure was the Radetzky March by Strauss Sr. and it really added a sense of magic to the whole place.
The next day, we walked around the city some more, and we headed back to St. Marks in order to find the Arsenal (Dad, I was thinking of you.) and to get into the Doge's Palace. Unfortunately, the Arsenal's museum was closed (it was Sunday), but we did manage to get into the Doge's Palace. What a treat! We couldn't take any pictures, but it was truly amazing. Although the Doge of Venice never had much political power, he was still given a position of respect unequaled in the Republic (think the Japanese Emperor), so almost every inch of his palace was a work of art. I was really taken aback by the frescos on the ceilings, usually depicting religious scenes, but the coolest was the Doge's waiting room. In it were two giant globes of the world, made in the 1700's, and the walls itself were maps of the known world. It was neat to see both how relatively accurate the maps were and to see what was considered "Terra Incognita" at the time.
We left the Doge's palace and decided to get some gelatto, per the recommendation of a friend. We got a little more than we bargained for (each serving was monstrous), but like good children we ate every bite. The sun was beginning to set and the chilly wind of the lagoon began to blow, so we packed it in and headed towards the docks, and after finding out that a gondola cost 80 euro, decided to take a water bus for 6. The pictures are in Marina's album, but I must say, the ride up the Grand Canal to the bus station was a once in a lifetime experience. It was just stunning to see the heart of Venice from the center of its brackish artery, and gaze at the barnacled water-marks on the side of stately 16th century homes, stores, and mansions.
The next day, I took a train back to Milan, and after a 4 hour plane delay, headed home to Madrid, and then to Granada. I was really pleased with this trip because not only did I see almost everything I wanted to see, but Venice's charm was irresistible and it colored all of my memories of my trip in a warm, happy hue.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Cordoba and the easy life
Can I hear three cheers for Socialist Democracy?
My new room at La Residencia is, well, decked out. Mini-fridge, desks, lamp, toilet paper, towels, sheets, phone, trash bin were all-included; didn't have to pay a single dime. Additionally, I get my very own bathroom. Plus, every Wednesday, a maid comes in to clean all of our rooms. When I said this was like a working vacation, I wasn't just whistling Dixie. Or Yankee. Or what have you.
My classes are easy enough, so far. My economics classes are more or less a joke. One is taught by a political science professor. Smart guy, but I am more accustomed to having to crunch equations than having to sit through recitations of all of the treaties that were formed to create the current EU. Being a rather avid reader of the news, this gets a might bit tedious. The other econ class is somewhat better, although the expectations are still pretty low. No graphs, unfortunately. Just papers.
I do have a midterm in Islamic Art and Architecture on Tuesday, so I'll be studying for that today. That class is conducted in Spanish, so its a bit more difficult in that sense. But Arabic is really the only class that's remotely difficult. Having gotten a basic grounding in Hebrew, it gives me a bit of an edge over most students (I got a 45.25/50 on my last quiz, compared to an average of 39). But its still a really difficult language, just in learning the alphabet. They have sounds that just plain don't exist in English. Soon, we're going to start learning vocabulary, so I hope that the endless repetition of the letters will make it easier to distinguish certain sounds. However, although I was initially hesitant to start taking Arabic, I think even this one semester of it will be a good investment. Even a basic knowledge of the language puts me head and shoulders over many other people.
Now, to Cordoba. With pictures!
So last Saturday, we took a class field trip to Cordoba, which was one of the last capitals of Moorish Spain. At the height of the Umayyad Caliphate, Cordoba was the largest city in Europe (at 500,000 people), and some people reckon it was the largest in the world. Additionally, Cordoba is home to one of only 3 synagogues still surviving from the Al-Andalus time period. As a modern city, its only medium-sized, but I was reasonably impressed. The city was immensely cleaner than any I'd been to (except for Madrid), and one could tell after walking around that it was a city that prided itself on a high-quality of life.
The first stop of the trip was at the ruins of a summer palace of the Caliphs of Spain, not far from the city proper. One thousand years ago, the city surrounding the palace was meant to be magnificent, but during a civil war between competing factions, the city was razed, and then buried, until 1911. Most of the pictures I took were of buildings that were reconstructed by later teams of archaeologists, but sd far, only an estimated 10% of the original size of the city has been excavated:
We then hopped back on the bus and moved on to Cordoba itself, specifically la Juderia.
Me at the Gate to the Juderia.
Back when Cordoba was essentially the capital of Spain, it had the largest Jewish community in the world(Maimonides was born here), and the old Jewish quarter (where the synagogue sits), still has the feel of something out of the 13th century. The streets are narrow, the houses white washed, and trying to make your way around begins to seem like sorting your way out of a labyrinth:
The ark of the synagogue. Although you can't really see it in this picture, the walls are covered with inscriptions in Hebrew.
The real jewel of la Juderia isn't the synagogue, per se, although it was pretty cool. La Juderia ensconces the Grand Mezquita (Great Mosque) of the Caliphs, now one of the largest churches in Spain. The effect of visiting this building is just downright unsettling. Allow me to explain.
The Mezquita was supposed to be the architectural tour de force of Moorish Spain. And it is. At the time, it was the second largest mosque in the world. However, when it was conquered by the Catholics, they converted it into a cathedral. The effect is more creepy than inspiring. Its just plain weird to see stained glass windows of Jesus and Mary looking down on red and white horseshoe arches. Stranger still to see the underside of the old minaret, with bright white plastered cherubs, superimposed on the faded brown stones:
Yeah, weird. Anyway, the scenes inside were still pretty spectacular:
That's the minaret/belltower. When it was turned into a cathedral, it had to be completely redone, since the original minaret was obviously not designed to carry two several tonne bells.
This is the central courtyard. Its magnificent. Especially impressive are the gullies that are cut into the stone flooring to self-irrigate the trees when it rains. If you look very closely at the trees, you'll see the lines on the ground that connect each tree. The lines end in little fountain pools, out of sight of this picture.
Perhaps not the best picture, but it starts to give a feel for how big it is. You can see the trademark arches on the left, which are definitely NOT a style commonly associated with Christianity in the West. Red and white are the main themes, as in Islamic art, they are considered the colors of beauty. Additionally, in formal religious imagery that'll show up in these pictures is from the Christian era, because it is forbidden in Islamic art to show pictures of any living creature: human, animal, or divine.
The rows upon rows of arches.
The altar.
Etc. I'll put the rest on a facebook album. It was at about this point that my camera ran out of batteries anyway, so I didn't get to take many pictures of what I personally considered the coolest part of the whole excursion: The Gardens of the Alcazar.
The Alcazar of Cordoba was both a fortress and a palace for the Caliphs, and the Gardens that were built in its interior were nothing short of enchanting. I thought they were great. At the end of my trip, I'm going to compile an album of greatest hits, and surely I'll be able to scrape together a few of them. There were fountains. Statuary. Irrigation networks. Shrubs, hedge rows, orange trees, everything. Like something out of Arabian Nights.
Awesome.
Anyway, we left back for Granada shortly thereafter, but I would definitely like to return at some point in my life. And hopefully, I'll be able to take more pictures!
My new room at La Residencia is, well, decked out. Mini-fridge, desks, lamp, toilet paper, towels, sheets, phone, trash bin were all-included; didn't have to pay a single dime. Additionally, I get my very own bathroom. Plus, every Wednesday, a maid comes in to clean all of our rooms. When I said this was like a working vacation, I wasn't just whistling Dixie. Or Yankee. Or what have you.
My classes are easy enough, so far. My economics classes are more or less a joke. One is taught by a political science professor. Smart guy, but I am more accustomed to having to crunch equations than having to sit through recitations of all of the treaties that were formed to create the current EU. Being a rather avid reader of the news, this gets a might bit tedious. The other econ class is somewhat better, although the expectations are still pretty low. No graphs, unfortunately. Just papers.
I do have a midterm in Islamic Art and Architecture on Tuesday, so I'll be studying for that today. That class is conducted in Spanish, so its a bit more difficult in that sense. But Arabic is really the only class that's remotely difficult. Having gotten a basic grounding in Hebrew, it gives me a bit of an edge over most students (I got a 45.25/50 on my last quiz, compared to an average of 39). But its still a really difficult language, just in learning the alphabet. They have sounds that just plain don't exist in English. Soon, we're going to start learning vocabulary, so I hope that the endless repetition of the letters will make it easier to distinguish certain sounds. However, although I was initially hesitant to start taking Arabic, I think even this one semester of it will be a good investment. Even a basic knowledge of the language puts me head and shoulders over many other people.
Now, to Cordoba. With pictures!
So last Saturday, we took a class field trip to Cordoba, which was one of the last capitals of Moorish Spain. At the height of the Umayyad Caliphate, Cordoba was the largest city in Europe (at 500,000 people), and some people reckon it was the largest in the world. Additionally, Cordoba is home to one of only 3 synagogues still surviving from the Al-Andalus time period. As a modern city, its only medium-sized, but I was reasonably impressed. The city was immensely cleaner than any I'd been to (except for Madrid), and one could tell after walking around that it was a city that prided itself on a high-quality of life.
The first stop of the trip was at the ruins of a summer palace of the Caliphs of Spain, not far from the city proper. One thousand years ago, the city surrounding the palace was meant to be magnificent, but during a civil war between competing factions, the city was razed, and then buried, until 1911. Most of the pictures I took were of buildings that were reconstructed by later teams of archaeologists, but sd far, only an estimated 10% of the original size of the city has been excavated:
We then hopped back on the bus and moved on to Cordoba itself, specifically la Juderia.
Me at the Gate to the Juderia.
Back when Cordoba was essentially the capital of Spain, it had the largest Jewish community in the world(Maimonides was born here), and the old Jewish quarter (where the synagogue sits), still has the feel of something out of the 13th century. The streets are narrow, the houses white washed, and trying to make your way around begins to seem like sorting your way out of a labyrinth:
The ark of the synagogue. Although you can't really see it in this picture, the walls are covered with inscriptions in Hebrew.
The real jewel of la Juderia isn't the synagogue, per se, although it was pretty cool. La Juderia ensconces the Grand Mezquita (Great Mosque) of the Caliphs, now one of the largest churches in Spain. The effect of visiting this building is just downright unsettling. Allow me to explain.
The Mezquita was supposed to be the architectural tour de force of Moorish Spain. And it is. At the time, it was the second largest mosque in the world. However, when it was conquered by the Catholics, they converted it into a cathedral. The effect is more creepy than inspiring. Its just plain weird to see stained glass windows of Jesus and Mary looking down on red and white horseshoe arches. Stranger still to see the underside of the old minaret, with bright white plastered cherubs, superimposed on the faded brown stones:
Yeah, weird. Anyway, the scenes inside were still pretty spectacular:
That's the minaret/belltower. When it was turned into a cathedral, it had to be completely redone, since the original minaret was obviously not designed to carry two several tonne bells.
This is the central courtyard. Its magnificent. Especially impressive are the gullies that are cut into the stone flooring to self-irrigate the trees when it rains. If you look very closely at the trees, you'll see the lines on the ground that connect each tree. The lines end in little fountain pools, out of sight of this picture.
Perhaps not the best picture, but it starts to give a feel for how big it is. You can see the trademark arches on the left, which are definitely NOT a style commonly associated with Christianity in the West. Red and white are the main themes, as in Islamic art, they are considered the colors of beauty. Additionally, in formal religious imagery that'll show up in these pictures is from the Christian era, because it is forbidden in Islamic art to show pictures of any living creature: human, animal, or divine.
The rows upon rows of arches.
The altar.
Etc. I'll put the rest on a facebook album. It was at about this point that my camera ran out of batteries anyway, so I didn't get to take many pictures of what I personally considered the coolest part of the whole excursion: The Gardens of the Alcazar.
The Alcazar of Cordoba was both a fortress and a palace for the Caliphs, and the Gardens that were built in its interior were nothing short of enchanting. I thought they were great. At the end of my trip, I'm going to compile an album of greatest hits, and surely I'll be able to scrape together a few of them. There were fountains. Statuary. Irrigation networks. Shrubs, hedge rows, orange trees, everything. Like something out of Arabian Nights.
Awesome.
Anyway, we left back for Granada shortly thereafter, but I would definitely like to return at some point in my life. And hopefully, I'll be able to take more pictures!
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Italia
Well, it was an adventure.
I spent Thursday night in Barcelona, in a youth hostel. I didn't get a chance to see much, but I did meet up with Mark Kagan. He took me to see to the Montjuic (The cultural epicenter of Barcelona, with a long history.), where I was fortunate enough to see a performance of the Magic Fountains. I know that Las Vegas has them, but this was truly spectacular. I would recommend anyone to go to Barcelona just to see the Montjuic.
I arrived on Friday afternoon in Florence, from Barcelona. I was excited, if a little tired. Starting about 2 years ago, I have reached the point where I travel at least once every 2 months, on average. One would think that I would have gotten used to it. They would be wrong. I still hate it.
Anyway, I took a bus from the airport to the city and rendezvous-ed with Marina and a friend of hers. We dropped off our stuff at our lodgings, and then proceeded to tour the town. Florence is a very old and very proud city. That became evident very quickly. What became less evident is where all the people lived. On our nighttime stroll, we saw Il Duomo (unbelievable), the Uffizzi Gallery, and we even found the pavillion of the Lucky Pig (put a penny in its mouth, make a wish, and then if when the penny drops, it lands in the grate, your wish will come true). But by 10:30, after we had dinner at really delicious and inexpensive Italian restaurant, we hardly saw anybody walking the streets. Coming from Spain, this was a little unnerving. Even in Boston, there would be people out and about on a Friday night, and this was Europe!
At 10 the next morning, we struck out again. This time, we made a small list of everything we wanted to see, instead of wandering around aimlessly. Granted, our list was a little bit optimistic, but we did manage to get to about half of everything on it. Our biggest time investment was in the Duomo. Ladies and Gentlemen, what a feat of human engineering. Although by no means the biggest cathedral in Europe, it is still a stunning and masterful monument to human ingenuity. The facade of the building was entirely unique, and gave an impression of artistic intricacy, and its straight lines with subdued hues lent the church a feeling of a far greater height than it actually possessed. The interior was equally magnificent. The ceiling was vaulted, so that there was a feeling of airiness to the back of the church that one would not have expected from a structure that was started 400 years ago. However, the greatest part was yet to come. We moved towards the front of the church, where we could see the underside of the Great Dome that lends the church its name. I took some pictures, but they can't do it justice. The artist Zuccari did a rendition of Dante's Last Judgement, so that the base of the dome depicts hell, the middle section Purgatory, and the upmost section as Heaven. It was incredible.
We climbed up to the top and took some pictures of Florence and the surrounding Tuscan countryside. Classic Italy; I'll put up the pictures at some point this week. After the Duomo, we went down and had some lunch, and then went over to the Uffizzi Gallery. Unfortunately, the line into the interior of the Gallery was prohibitive, but fortunately, the good people of Florence had an outdoor exhibit of some of the cooler Renaissance statuary. Again, pictures promised.
Next, we went to the Museum d'Opera. Time was running short (we wanted to leave by 7:30, since it would take 2 hrs. by train to get to Perugia), so we breezed through the museum in under an hour. And a shame at that. The Museum d'Opera (which is about 10 meters from the Duomo itself), has some of the most amazing art I've ever seen. Their Donatello collection is superb, and they even had one of Michaelangelo's Pietas. Extremely cool.
We headed to the train station and left towards Perugia. Marina went to sleep and I took out my copy of 100 Years of Solitude, in Spanish. Although I don't understand every word, and there are entire sentences lost on me, I think its been an excellent investment. Little by little, it is expanding my vocabulary and my sense of syntax and grammar. His Spanish is very fluid, and is structured in a way that I haven't yet encountered in class, probably because it is considered too complex for students. At some point, I'd like to go back and try my own hand at translating it. But translation is easier said than done, for example, the first sentence:
Muchos años después, frente al pelotón de fusilamiento, el coronel Aureliano Buendía había de recordar aquella tarde remota en que su padre lo llevó a conocer el hielo.
I could translate that several different ways.
Literally: Many years later, in front of the wall of the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that remote afternoon that his father took him to meet ice.
Kind of clunky, yes?
I think more faithfully, it would be this:
Many years later, standing against the wall facing the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father first took him to see ice.
Better, but I still want to find a more succinct way of translating the bit about the wall of the firing squad. Oh well.
Back to my journey.
We arrived in Perugia late, and I went to my hotel and Marina went home. Woke up the next morning, met up with my girlfriend again, and she showed me around the town.
I was really glad I went to Perugia after I went to Florence. Perugia is really cool because it is a university town and it is home to a lot of Etruscan architecture and ruins. Entirely cool, because unlike most things preserved from Antiquity in Europe, the Etruscan ruins were incorporated right into the fabric of the town. Aquaducts, walls, and even a genuine well. It is worth keeping in mind that the history nerd in me was pumped because the Etruscan predate even the Romans, meaning I was touching walls that had been built over 2,500 years ago.
But perhaps what really made my stay enjoyable was that I felt Perugia was alive, especially compared to Florence. At night, there were people outside, especially in the center of town. And let it be noted the center of Perugia is not easily accessible, unlike that of Florence. In fact, the city center is located on top of a mountain, with sides so steep that there are actually escalators to get there. But nonetheless, there people were. The pizza was good, so was the gelato. Plus, Perugia is cheap. Cheaper even than Granada, which is saying something considering that my host parents insist it is the cheapest city in Spain.
On Monday, my flight left back for Barcelona at 9 from Rome, so I was really hoping to get a chance to see at least a little of the city, or barring that, going to Assisi, which I was excited to discover was only 20 minutes by train from Perugia. Alas, there was no good way to get from Perugia to Assisi to Rome to the airport in a comfortable amount of time to get on my plane. I thus contented myself when my train passed through Assisi to take pictures from the train window. And I must say, I got two good ones. The first is of a fat, robed monk waddling up and down the platform at the Assisi train station. The second is of the town itself, which is actually about 5 km from its train station. Its perched on a plateau on the side of a mountain, and it shines a pretty brilliant white in the day.
I arrived at the Rome airport and had a rather uneventful trip back to Granada. Sorry if this post is a tad brief and dull, but it will help immensely when I get my pictures loaded up here. I need to go battery hunting, as my batteries died when I was in Cordoba. Also a misfortune, because I wasn't able to take all of the pictures I wanted of the Grand Mosque. But that's for later this week.
Goodnight, folks.
I spent Thursday night in Barcelona, in a youth hostel. I didn't get a chance to see much, but I did meet up with Mark Kagan. He took me to see to the Montjuic (The cultural epicenter of Barcelona, with a long history.), where I was fortunate enough to see a performance of the Magic Fountains. I know that Las Vegas has them, but this was truly spectacular. I would recommend anyone to go to Barcelona just to see the Montjuic.
I arrived on Friday afternoon in Florence, from Barcelona. I was excited, if a little tired. Starting about 2 years ago, I have reached the point where I travel at least once every 2 months, on average. One would think that I would have gotten used to it. They would be wrong. I still hate it.
Anyway, I took a bus from the airport to the city and rendezvous-ed with Marina and a friend of hers. We dropped off our stuff at our lodgings, and then proceeded to tour the town. Florence is a very old and very proud city. That became evident very quickly. What became less evident is where all the people lived. On our nighttime stroll, we saw Il Duomo (unbelievable), the Uffizzi Gallery, and we even found the pavillion of the Lucky Pig (put a penny in its mouth, make a wish, and then if when the penny drops, it lands in the grate, your wish will come true). But by 10:30, after we had dinner at really delicious and inexpensive Italian restaurant, we hardly saw anybody walking the streets. Coming from Spain, this was a little unnerving. Even in Boston, there would be people out and about on a Friday night, and this was Europe!
At 10 the next morning, we struck out again. This time, we made a small list of everything we wanted to see, instead of wandering around aimlessly. Granted, our list was a little bit optimistic, but we did manage to get to about half of everything on it. Our biggest time investment was in the Duomo. Ladies and Gentlemen, what a feat of human engineering. Although by no means the biggest cathedral in Europe, it is still a stunning and masterful monument to human ingenuity. The facade of the building was entirely unique, and gave an impression of artistic intricacy, and its straight lines with subdued hues lent the church a feeling of a far greater height than it actually possessed. The interior was equally magnificent. The ceiling was vaulted, so that there was a feeling of airiness to the back of the church that one would not have expected from a structure that was started 400 years ago. However, the greatest part was yet to come. We moved towards the front of the church, where we could see the underside of the Great Dome that lends the church its name. I took some pictures, but they can't do it justice. The artist Zuccari did a rendition of Dante's Last Judgement, so that the base of the dome depicts hell, the middle section Purgatory, and the upmost section as Heaven. It was incredible.
We climbed up to the top and took some pictures of Florence and the surrounding Tuscan countryside. Classic Italy; I'll put up the pictures at some point this week. After the Duomo, we went down and had some lunch, and then went over to the Uffizzi Gallery. Unfortunately, the line into the interior of the Gallery was prohibitive, but fortunately, the good people of Florence had an outdoor exhibit of some of the cooler Renaissance statuary. Again, pictures promised.
Next, we went to the Museum d'Opera. Time was running short (we wanted to leave by 7:30, since it would take 2 hrs. by train to get to Perugia), so we breezed through the museum in under an hour. And a shame at that. The Museum d'Opera (which is about 10 meters from the Duomo itself), has some of the most amazing art I've ever seen. Their Donatello collection is superb, and they even had one of Michaelangelo's Pietas. Extremely cool.
We headed to the train station and left towards Perugia. Marina went to sleep and I took out my copy of 100 Years of Solitude, in Spanish. Although I don't understand every word, and there are entire sentences lost on me, I think its been an excellent investment. Little by little, it is expanding my vocabulary and my sense of syntax and grammar. His Spanish is very fluid, and is structured in a way that I haven't yet encountered in class, probably because it is considered too complex for students. At some point, I'd like to go back and try my own hand at translating it. But translation is easier said than done, for example, the first sentence:
Muchos años después, frente al pelotón de fusilamiento, el coronel Aureliano Buendía había de recordar aquella tarde remota en que su padre lo llevó a conocer el hielo.
I could translate that several different ways.
Literally: Many years later, in front of the wall of the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that remote afternoon that his father took him to meet ice.
Kind of clunky, yes?
I think more faithfully, it would be this:
Many years later, standing against the wall facing the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendia was to remember that distant afternoon when his father first took him to see ice.
Better, but I still want to find a more succinct way of translating the bit about the wall of the firing squad. Oh well.
Back to my journey.
We arrived in Perugia late, and I went to my hotel and Marina went home. Woke up the next morning, met up with my girlfriend again, and she showed me around the town.
I was really glad I went to Perugia after I went to Florence. Perugia is really cool because it is a university town and it is home to a lot of Etruscan architecture and ruins. Entirely cool, because unlike most things preserved from Antiquity in Europe, the Etruscan ruins were incorporated right into the fabric of the town. Aquaducts, walls, and even a genuine well. It is worth keeping in mind that the history nerd in me was pumped because the Etruscan predate even the Romans, meaning I was touching walls that had been built over 2,500 years ago.
But perhaps what really made my stay enjoyable was that I felt Perugia was alive, especially compared to Florence. At night, there were people outside, especially in the center of town. And let it be noted the center of Perugia is not easily accessible, unlike that of Florence. In fact, the city center is located on top of a mountain, with sides so steep that there are actually escalators to get there. But nonetheless, there people were. The pizza was good, so was the gelato. Plus, Perugia is cheap. Cheaper even than Granada, which is saying something considering that my host parents insist it is the cheapest city in Spain.
On Monday, my flight left back for Barcelona at 9 from Rome, so I was really hoping to get a chance to see at least a little of the city, or barring that, going to Assisi, which I was excited to discover was only 20 minutes by train from Perugia. Alas, there was no good way to get from Perugia to Assisi to Rome to the airport in a comfortable amount of time to get on my plane. I thus contented myself when my train passed through Assisi to take pictures from the train window. And I must say, I got two good ones. The first is of a fat, robed monk waddling up and down the platform at the Assisi train station. The second is of the town itself, which is actually about 5 km from its train station. Its perched on a plateau on the side of a mountain, and it shines a pretty brilliant white in the day.
I arrived at the Rome airport and had a rather uneventful trip back to Granada. Sorry if this post is a tad brief and dull, but it will help immensely when I get my pictures loaded up here. I need to go battery hunting, as my batteries died when I was in Cordoba. Also a misfortune, because I wasn't able to take all of the pictures I wanted of the Grand Mosque. But that's for later this week.
Goodnight, folks.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Apologies for the delay (Madrid Continued)
All right, where was I?
Right-o. Siesta time was over.
Scott and I regrouped, and we headed out for dinner. The details aren't important, but we didn't actually sit down and have dinner until 10:00. Dinner was expensive, too. A bit of a sour note in the whole proceedings.
But fortunately, after we escaped from the restaurant, we headed straight back downtown. Once again hopping on the Metro, we hurtled towards El Paseo del Prado. The Paseo del Prado was the place to be. It seemed that by 11:00 (relatively early by Spanish standards), the entire city had jammed up the Plaza del Cibeles, one of the biggest interchanges in downtown. We got off the Metro at Banco de Espana, and upon emerging from the underground, I was greeted by one of the cooler images I saw that night: The Palacio de las Communicaciones. Its a huge (and surprisingly graceful) stone and concrete edifice on the Paseo del Prado, which turns into the main North-South artery of Madrid, and not far from the museum itself. The facade had been turned into a gigantic movie projector. Check out the video:
Scott and I started down the Paseo towards the Prado itself. The neat thing about the Prado is that it is located in the same plaza as all of the other art museums of Madrid. You can't beat that kind of convenience with a two-by-four. Unfortunantly, half of Madrid had the same idea. Scott and I never did find the end of the line for the Thyssen Museum.
So, deciding to give the crowd some time to bottom out (and it only being 11:30, early by Spanish standards), we wandered back towards the Royal Palace, hoping to get into the Teatro Real (Royal Theater). The end of that line we DID manage to find, after about 10 minutes of walking.
This effectively ended all of our attempts to try to get into the most famous of the sites. So instead, we checked out the street displays. This was just as much fun, I would imagine. We stumbled across a gigantic outdoor karaoke contest (you can see it in the photo album from the previous post), and coolest of all, the Army had opened its private garden to the public and had allowed a local artist to redecorate the place as a garden of the future. I also took video of that too. Unfortunately, Blogger isn't letting me upload it right now, but hopefully I'll be able to do it later.
At this point, Scott was getting really tired, and granted, it was about 3 am. The first people were just beginning to leave. So I got him to agree to stop by the Prado once last time, but alas, it was completely closed. I resigned myself to heading home.
And then we ran into trouble.
Somehow in the process of coming to Madrid, Scott and I had fallen under the false impression that the Metro would be open that entire night. Considering that there were over a million people in the street (according to the newspaper the next morning), it didn't seem that unreasonable of an assumption. The truth was more that the there was 24-hour bus transportation, but Scott and I had almost no knowledge of how the bus system worked.
So, after getting pissed for about 15 minutes at the idiocy of labor unions, lazy municipal governments, and the general Spanish way of doing things, I dragged a very sleepy Scott to the Palacio de las Comunicaciones. (At this point, allow me to commend Spanish coffee. That stuff kicks a powerful punch. I wasn't feeling the fatigue at all. I had thought to grab some while we were watching the crowd in front of the Royal Theater earlier, while Scott had gotten a beer. Hence our different states of alertness.) After studying maps of the city for about 20 minutes, and keeping a beady eye on the destinations of the infrequent bus, I realized we had to go to a Plaza further north, and then transfer to a different bus route that would take us within walking distance of our hotel. (By walking distance, I mean a 20 minute walk).
Fortunately, I had cobbled together the bus routes more or less correctly, because we were able to get home, around 5 am. Needless to say, Scott was only awake through sheer force of his own will and I was beginning to droop myself. We crashed.
By mutual agreement the next morning, we ate a brief lunch near the hotel, and decided to get the hell out of town. We went back to the bus station, got on the next bus to Granada, and split.
As a final note, I did stay awake for the last leg of the trip, so I got to see the mountains that separate Castille from Andalusia. Those make up the last few pics in my album and are among the most beautiful mountain vistas I've ever seen. Scott and I pulled into Granada around 7:45 and I managed to get home by 8 to a warm pizza dinner.
Thus concludes my adventure to Madrid. I will talk about Italy on Sunday; tomorrow, I'm going on a class field trip to Cordoba.
Right-o. Siesta time was over.
Scott and I regrouped, and we headed out for dinner. The details aren't important, but we didn't actually sit down and have dinner until 10:00. Dinner was expensive, too. A bit of a sour note in the whole proceedings.
But fortunately, after we escaped from the restaurant, we headed straight back downtown. Once again hopping on the Metro, we hurtled towards El Paseo del Prado. The Paseo del Prado was the place to be. It seemed that by 11:00 (relatively early by Spanish standards), the entire city had jammed up the Plaza del Cibeles, one of the biggest interchanges in downtown. We got off the Metro at Banco de Espana, and upon emerging from the underground, I was greeted by one of the cooler images I saw that night: The Palacio de las Communicaciones. Its a huge (and surprisingly graceful) stone and concrete edifice on the Paseo del Prado, which turns into the main North-South artery of Madrid, and not far from the museum itself. The facade had been turned into a gigantic movie projector. Check out the video:
Scott and I started down the Paseo towards the Prado itself. The neat thing about the Prado is that it is located in the same plaza as all of the other art museums of Madrid. You can't beat that kind of convenience with a two-by-four. Unfortunantly, half of Madrid had the same idea. Scott and I never did find the end of the line for the Thyssen Museum.
So, deciding to give the crowd some time to bottom out (and it only being 11:30, early by Spanish standards), we wandered back towards the Royal Palace, hoping to get into the Teatro Real (Royal Theater). The end of that line we DID manage to find, after about 10 minutes of walking.
This effectively ended all of our attempts to try to get into the most famous of the sites. So instead, we checked out the street displays. This was just as much fun, I would imagine. We stumbled across a gigantic outdoor karaoke contest (you can see it in the photo album from the previous post), and coolest of all, the Army had opened its private garden to the public and had allowed a local artist to redecorate the place as a garden of the future. I also took video of that too. Unfortunately, Blogger isn't letting me upload it right now, but hopefully I'll be able to do it later.
At this point, Scott was getting really tired, and granted, it was about 3 am. The first people were just beginning to leave. So I got him to agree to stop by the Prado once last time, but alas, it was completely closed. I resigned myself to heading home.
And then we ran into trouble.
Somehow in the process of coming to Madrid, Scott and I had fallen under the false impression that the Metro would be open that entire night. Considering that there were over a million people in the street (according to the newspaper the next morning), it didn't seem that unreasonable of an assumption. The truth was more that the there was 24-hour bus transportation, but Scott and I had almost no knowledge of how the bus system worked.
So, after getting pissed for about 15 minutes at the idiocy of labor unions, lazy municipal governments, and the general Spanish way of doing things, I dragged a very sleepy Scott to the Palacio de las Comunicaciones. (At this point, allow me to commend Spanish coffee. That stuff kicks a powerful punch. I wasn't feeling the fatigue at all. I had thought to grab some while we were watching the crowd in front of the Royal Theater earlier, while Scott had gotten a beer. Hence our different states of alertness.) After studying maps of the city for about 20 minutes, and keeping a beady eye on the destinations of the infrequent bus, I realized we had to go to a Plaza further north, and then transfer to a different bus route that would take us within walking distance of our hotel. (By walking distance, I mean a 20 minute walk).
Fortunately, I had cobbled together the bus routes more or less correctly, because we were able to get home, around 5 am. Needless to say, Scott was only awake through sheer force of his own will and I was beginning to droop myself. We crashed.
By mutual agreement the next morning, we ate a brief lunch near the hotel, and decided to get the hell out of town. We went back to the bus station, got on the next bus to Granada, and split.
As a final note, I did stay awake for the last leg of the trip, so I got to see the mountains that separate Castille from Andalusia. Those make up the last few pics in my album and are among the most beautiful mountain vistas I've ever seen. Scott and I pulled into Granada around 7:45 and I managed to get home by 8 to a warm pizza dinner.
Thus concludes my adventure to Madrid. I will talk about Italy on Sunday; tomorrow, I'm going on a class field trip to Cordoba.
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