I think that Semana Santa (Holy Week) in Sevilla is hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t experienced it, especially when I can’t show you pictures as well, but if you are really interested in it, I will be more than happy to share pictures and some video with you when I come home (May 25th). I will however, do my best to try and share a bit of the magic of the week.
No matter what religion or what beliefs someone has, I think it is impossible to not get swept up in the excitement and emotion that is Semana Santa in Sevilla. From the moment I stepped off the bus from Barcelona Sevilla felt different to me, it had a different energy. In truth, the craziness in Sevilla had even started a few days before I left to go to Barcelona; I think I was one of the few leaving Sevilla and not entering. The Wednesday I got home it was a rainy day and the pasos (floats) that were scheduled for that evening’s processions were cancelled. As my Señora and I watched this announcement on T.V. (4 channels have constant coverage of the processions), the screen was filled with band members, costaleros (the guys that carry the floats), and nazarenos (people in outfits that look like KKK outfits that carry candles and are the beginning and end of each float), crying because the event they had prepared for all year had been cancelled.
Thursday for me was spent sleeping, as I was extremely ill and preparing for the night’s festivities. Early Friday morning there is a midnight procession through the streets, and I had been invited to go to my Senora’s cousin’s house to watch the action from her roof (the church where two of the pasos left from is right near by). My roommate, Señora’s nieces, niece’s friend, and niece’s boyfriend, Señora, and myself left at 12:45 in the morning to go to her cousin’s house. Upon arriving, the kids were sent to the roof to enjoy each other’s company and traditional Semana Santa food while we waited for the pasos to leave. This requires a lot more patience than one may think. The procession did not even start until 2:00 am, and this was when the nazarenos left (it was about another 45 minutes until the first paso left). In this time, my Señora’s nieces and friends kept us busy, asking us for swearwords in English and teaching us swearwords in Spanish (something I found highly ironic considering the event) and sharing each other’s company. We also enjoyed watching the crowds grow larger and larger below us (this is a much bigger deal than those of you reading at home think it is).
Finally, around 2:00 am the band began playing and the nazarenos began slowly filing out of the church, their candles lit, in a solemn procession, swaying to the tune of the music. The end to the nazarenos finally came and the crowd fell completely silent as the paso with Jesus on it began to slowly (painstakingly) leave the church. When the paso finally made it out of the church, the crowd erupted in cheers and applause. It was then that the magic really began. The paso actually swayed and moved to the beat of the music with choreographed moves. At times the paso would move slowly, at other points quickly, at times forward and other times backwards. One of my favorite parts was when after the men carrying the paso would rest by ducking down low enough so that the paso could rest on its stand. At this point, the silence would be pierced by a man banging on a wooden knocker, followed by yells from inside the paso and then, out of nowhere, the paso was being thrown into the air so the men could begin their march again. At this point the crowd would go wild again. After the Jesus paso finally made its way out of view, and after another 45 minute of nazarenos, the Virgin Mary paso repeated the process of leaving the church, this time to applause and people yelling “Guapa, Guapa” (“Beautiful, Beautiful). The beauty of the moment was impossible to ignore, with the Virgin’s face lit up by giant candles, the beautiful music being played, the nazarenos filing past, and the cheers from the crowd. It was an incredibly emotion filled moment. The Virgin eventually passed as well, and when the last of the nazarenos filed past at 4:00 am, we all headed back to our houses to get a bit of sleep.
Six and a half hours later we were on our way once again to my Señora’s cousin’s house to see the pasos enter the church they had left hours before. It was a distinctly different atmosphere than during the evening, and it appeared to be more like a carnival, with people selling cotton candy, balloons, and other trinkets and junk food as we walked to the house. We had to weave through massive crowds in order to make it to the house, but we finally made it and headed up to the roof. The crowds were even bigger than the night before, and I was glad to have my perch with a view from above. It took hours for the first nazarenos to come and they appeared to be dead men walking after having walked for ten hours (some of them barefoot as a way of repenting). The first paso finally made its way, barreling through the crowd (people were allowed to mill in the streets in front of it). When it appeared that the paso was finally going to disappear into the church, it burst right back out to the beat of the music, and the crowd went wild. It was quite the spectacle. As it finally made its way in, a man on a balcony began singing a saeta, a traditional song sung to the paso and its carriers, and the crowd went silent. When he was finished, the crowd erupted again and anxiously awaited the paso with the Virgin. When she finally made her way down the street, the candles from the night before still blazing, people threw rose petals down from their balconies and cheered “Guapa, Guapa”. There was chaos as people tried to break through police barricades and touch the paso, overcome with emotion. I really thought for a moment that I was going to witness a stampede. The Virgin paso repeated the trick of bursting back out of the church and then it finally entered to the sound of the saeta. We watched as nazarenos, costaleros, and band members milled about the church, crying as they had just fulfilled their penitence and would have to wait another year to do it again. It was an experience that I will never forget and that I will forever be grateful to my Señora for sharing it with me.
Saturday my Señora had her sons and their girlfriends over for a big lunch, after which we all went out for coffee and traditional Semana Santa pastries, torrijas. It was, to say the least, a very overwhelming experience, but at the same time a perfect way to celebrate Semana Santa. After that my roommate and I went to the town center to watch more pasos as well as the crowd. After walking around for awhile and just seeing what we could run into, we decided to do it the Spanish way and got some drinks at an outdoor bar and watched the pasos pass while enjoying glasses of wine. The pasos were cut short due to a sudden downpour, and it was madness as people ran through the streets seeking shelter. When my roommate and I finally made it home, we watched on T.V. as the pasos were being carried at the fastest pace I had seen, seeking shelter at the nearest church.
Being part of Semana Santa in Sevilla was an absolutely amazing experience. As I sat on the roof at night, watching the nazarenos pass by, talking to my Señora’s nieces, I really felt as though I would rather be nowhere else in the world.
An Easter Miracle: I ate pork for the first time in 6 years and realized once again why I don’t like it.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Tapa, Tapa (Version 1): Barcelona
It is rare to find friends where you can pick up right where you left off without any awkward pauses or moments after months apart. Those however, are exactly the kind of friend I have. This past week we met up in Barcelona to share memories, stories, moments, and most importantly, laughs. Barcelona itself is not an extremely remarkable city. My friends however, made it remarkable.
It is hard to say what my favorite part of the trip was. Perhaps it was our adventure at the beach when we stumbled upon a giant rope tower and decided it would be a great idea to join the kids and climb to the top. It could have been finding ourselves at quite possibly one of the most dangerous parks with a crazy teeter totter-like structure suspended in the air while walking towards the dead Tree of Life. Maybe it was watching Matt try to jam himself into pillowcases in order to keep himself warm at night (who really pays 2 euros for another sheet or blanket?). It could have been using Heather’s “Tapa, Tapa” phrase to agree to a statement in a positive manner (until we actually went to the restaurant Tapa Tapa and were disappointed by the food). Maybe it was even our failed trip to see the Magic Fountains that neglected to share their magic with us (apparently the show is only on Fridays and Saturdays). Perhaps it was seeing the “Silence” sign when entering the Sagrada Familia, a cathedral that is still under construction after years and years of work. It could quite possibly be our hiking trip to Montserrat, a mountain with a monastery where we took a train, cable car, funicular, and our legs to share lunch bought at the open-air market and spectacular views from the highest point of the entire mountain. It could also be us running through the train station in order to make the train to go to Montserrat. Maybe it was watching Matt nearly fall to his death about every 5 minutes on the hike. It could be Tyler’s one-line jokes thrown in at the perfect moment. Or maybe it was the ever-present repetition of something someone just said only to be followed by Heather’s “Guys, we don’t listen to each other!” It was possibly trying to beat AJ’s time while racing through a giant hedge maze (needless to say, I was the last one every time… “Laura, have you reached the middle yet?”, “There’s a middle?!”). Maybe it was wandering down the streets of Barcelona, seeing what we could stumble upon next. Maybe, just maybe, it was all these adventures and every laugh, every sharp comment, every expensive piece of bread, every bicker, and every moment in between.
I don’t know if I can explain the flood of emotions on parting ways with my friends yet again. It was a phenomenal experience to be able to share my study abroad experience, one of the best things I have ever done in my life, with some of the people I care about most. It was sad to leave them and head back to life in Sevilla, but at the same time I know I have many adventures left.
As I stepped off the bus and back into Sevilla, the first thing that hit me was the smell of the Orange Blossoms, welcoming me home again. The second smell that hit me was the overwhelming smell of incense… Semana Santa (Holy Week) in Sevilla had begun, and soon I was to be a part of it.
It is hard to say what my favorite part of the trip was. Perhaps it was our adventure at the beach when we stumbled upon a giant rope tower and decided it would be a great idea to join the kids and climb to the top. It could have been finding ourselves at quite possibly one of the most dangerous parks with a crazy teeter totter-like structure suspended in the air while walking towards the dead Tree of Life. Maybe it was watching Matt try to jam himself into pillowcases in order to keep himself warm at night (who really pays 2 euros for another sheet or blanket?). It could have been using Heather’s “Tapa, Tapa” phrase to agree to a statement in a positive manner (until we actually went to the restaurant Tapa Tapa and were disappointed by the food). Maybe it was even our failed trip to see the Magic Fountains that neglected to share their magic with us (apparently the show is only on Fridays and Saturdays). Perhaps it was seeing the “Silence” sign when entering the Sagrada Familia, a cathedral that is still under construction after years and years of work. It could quite possibly be our hiking trip to Montserrat, a mountain with a monastery where we took a train, cable car, funicular, and our legs to share lunch bought at the open-air market and spectacular views from the highest point of the entire mountain. It could also be us running through the train station in order to make the train to go to Montserrat. Maybe it was watching Matt nearly fall to his death about every 5 minutes on the hike. It could be Tyler’s one-line jokes thrown in at the perfect moment. Or maybe it was the ever-present repetition of something someone just said only to be followed by Heather’s “Guys, we don’t listen to each other!” It was possibly trying to beat AJ’s time while racing through a giant hedge maze (needless to say, I was the last one every time… “Laura, have you reached the middle yet?”, “There’s a middle?!”). Maybe it was wandering down the streets of Barcelona, seeing what we could stumble upon next. Maybe, just maybe, it was all these adventures and every laugh, every sharp comment, every expensive piece of bread, every bicker, and every moment in between.
I don’t know if I can explain the flood of emotions on parting ways with my friends yet again. It was a phenomenal experience to be able to share my study abroad experience, one of the best things I have ever done in my life, with some of the people I care about most. It was sad to leave them and head back to life in Sevilla, but at the same time I know I have many adventures left.
As I stepped off the bus and back into Sevilla, the first thing that hit me was the smell of the Orange Blossoms, welcoming me home again. The second smell that hit me was the overwhelming smell of incense… Semana Santa (Holy Week) in Sevilla had begun, and soon I was to be a part of it.
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Just When I Thought I Had Survived the Worst
I ate some kind of cold, raw fish for dinner last night, it is not an experience I want to repeat...ever.
Monday, March 10, 2008
What I Did this Weekend Instead of Studying
1) Bought plane tickets to Austria.
2) Bought bus tickets to Madrid so I can get on my plane to Austria.
3) Church-hopped. Semana Santa (Holy Week) is quickly approaching, and I think it is safe to say that the biggest celebration is here in Sevilla. Weeks ago preparations began for the many processions that will take place with pasos (floats that weigh thousands of kilos adorned with statues, gold, fancy fabrics, candles, etc.) throughout Sevilla and throughout the week. A friend and I spent Friday afternoon going to the many different churches to get a preview of the festivities to come. When we planned on going to check the pasos out, we had no idea that half of Sevilla would be doing the same. Really though, I cannot blame them. We had two churches in mind to visit, but as we wandered around Sevilla, we entered into any church with its doors open and surrounded by crowds, and at every entrance we were amazed. Every church had at least two floats, some with four. Aside from the floats, the statues themselves (some have yet to be added) were an attraction themselves. Hundreds lined up to get a good view of the Weeping Virgin and Jesus carrying the cross; we had joined a pilgrimage. We entered one church that we pass everyday on our way to school but has been closed since we arrived, and were completely amazed by the interior. We never would have thought the humble church on whose steps students botellon (bring their own alcohol to “pre-game” before going out for real) would have such an ornate interior. We entered another church to see a long line of people waiting to kiss the feet of Jesus, after which two guys in old-fashioned purple knight-outfits would wipe the feet with their gloved hands. What started out as an opportunity to take some pictures of the pasos in all their glory before they hit the streets next week ended as an opportunity to partake in a once in a lifetime experience.
4) Made my Señora cry. Somehow the topic came up that I was halfway done with my program (a subject I have tried to avoid as it makes my Señora sad every time) and before I knew it, my Señora was crying just thinking about it. And I don’t mean just a few tears, I mean weeping, even 10 minutes after the real crying had stopped I could hear her sniffling while preparing our lunch. She has already demanded that I come back to visit Caitlin (she already has it planned out that Caitlin will be studying in Spain and living with her), that I come to visit with my husband, then with my kids, and then with my grandkids. I can’t even imagine how hysterical she will be when I leave in exactly 2 months (time is going by WAY to fast).
5) Went on yet another adventure with my geography professor. I should know by now that when my geography professor plans an outing for us it will be anything but ordinary. I experienced this on the reforestation trip, our hike, and now on our “plant identification trip”. This trip was to the mountains north of Sevilla with other university students, professors, and people just plain obsessed with plants. I was delighted to see that my Spanish friend Antonio that I met at the reforestation was along on the trip, and I took the opportunity to catch up with him and pick his brain on places to visit in Spain. Our bus drove around dangerous curves (I am really surprised I didn’t die) for 45 min. only to drop us in the middle of nowhere. There were no cities or houses, or even a trailhead, in sight, just mountain after mountain. We split into groups and then headed on our respective paths to identify plants. Oddly enough, 12 hours of identifying plants was not as boring as it sounds. Our professor basically told us we didn’t have to pay attention to the plant identification but instead enjoy the absolutely fantastic weather and views. This turned the plant identification trip into a hike with breaks. After hiking for 4 hours we arrived at our designated lunch spot with a one-room building. Inside volunteers were preparing lunch for those actually doing work over a fire. In true Spanish style, the lunch break turned into a 2.5-hour party, complete with alcohol, food, Semana Santa pastries, and coffee. While the others filled out information about plants (this took forever since it was mixed in with smoking, drinking, eating, and socializing) we were able to relax in the sun perched on top of a mountain: not a bad way to spend a beautiful afternoon. As each group finished filling out the information, they headed back to where our bus would pick us up. My group left second to last, leaving one group behind. We finally arrived at our bus (we were all pretty exhausted after a long day in the sun) only to find out that the group left behind was now lost somewhere in the mountains. People had cell phones but since we were literally in the middle of nowhere calls were being dropped constantly. In the typical laidback Spanish manner one student said, “Ten people missing, no big deal, let’s head home”. My professor and those in charge were obviously a bit more concerned (aside from the joke that my vulture-obsessed professor kept making about just searching for the circling vultures to find the missing). After waiting 1.5 hours and talking with the police we got in the bus and started searching the mountains for the missing people. After another 45 minutes of searching we found them, in the complete opposite direction than they should have been heading (I have absolutely no idea how they went that way…perhaps all that alcohol was not a good idea). We headed home after a gorgeous day in the mountains with good company, happy to have everyone that we started with. A side note: we were given gifts once again, this time a bit more practical: a t-shirt and rain poncho.
6) Got sunburned. Let’s face it; no matter how much sunscreen I wear, I will always get burned, especially in the Spanish sun.
7) Talked to my greasy sister (and clean Mom and Dad) on Skype.
2) Bought bus tickets to Madrid so I can get on my plane to Austria.
3) Church-hopped. Semana Santa (Holy Week) is quickly approaching, and I think it is safe to say that the biggest celebration is here in Sevilla. Weeks ago preparations began for the many processions that will take place with pasos (floats that weigh thousands of kilos adorned with statues, gold, fancy fabrics, candles, etc.) throughout Sevilla and throughout the week. A friend and I spent Friday afternoon going to the many different churches to get a preview of the festivities to come. When we planned on going to check the pasos out, we had no idea that half of Sevilla would be doing the same. Really though, I cannot blame them. We had two churches in mind to visit, but as we wandered around Sevilla, we entered into any church with its doors open and surrounded by crowds, and at every entrance we were amazed. Every church had at least two floats, some with four. Aside from the floats, the statues themselves (some have yet to be added) were an attraction themselves. Hundreds lined up to get a good view of the Weeping Virgin and Jesus carrying the cross; we had joined a pilgrimage. We entered one church that we pass everyday on our way to school but has been closed since we arrived, and were completely amazed by the interior. We never would have thought the humble church on whose steps students botellon (bring their own alcohol to “pre-game” before going out for real) would have such an ornate interior. We entered another church to see a long line of people waiting to kiss the feet of Jesus, after which two guys in old-fashioned purple knight-outfits would wipe the feet with their gloved hands. What started out as an opportunity to take some pictures of the pasos in all their glory before they hit the streets next week ended as an opportunity to partake in a once in a lifetime experience.
4) Made my Señora cry. Somehow the topic came up that I was halfway done with my program (a subject I have tried to avoid as it makes my Señora sad every time) and before I knew it, my Señora was crying just thinking about it. And I don’t mean just a few tears, I mean weeping, even 10 minutes after the real crying had stopped I could hear her sniffling while preparing our lunch. She has already demanded that I come back to visit Caitlin (she already has it planned out that Caitlin will be studying in Spain and living with her), that I come to visit with my husband, then with my kids, and then with my grandkids. I can’t even imagine how hysterical she will be when I leave in exactly 2 months (time is going by WAY to fast).
5) Went on yet another adventure with my geography professor. I should know by now that when my geography professor plans an outing for us it will be anything but ordinary. I experienced this on the reforestation trip, our hike, and now on our “plant identification trip”. This trip was to the mountains north of Sevilla with other university students, professors, and people just plain obsessed with plants. I was delighted to see that my Spanish friend Antonio that I met at the reforestation was along on the trip, and I took the opportunity to catch up with him and pick his brain on places to visit in Spain. Our bus drove around dangerous curves (I am really surprised I didn’t die) for 45 min. only to drop us in the middle of nowhere. There were no cities or houses, or even a trailhead, in sight, just mountain after mountain. We split into groups and then headed on our respective paths to identify plants. Oddly enough, 12 hours of identifying plants was not as boring as it sounds. Our professor basically told us we didn’t have to pay attention to the plant identification but instead enjoy the absolutely fantastic weather and views. This turned the plant identification trip into a hike with breaks. After hiking for 4 hours we arrived at our designated lunch spot with a one-room building. Inside volunteers were preparing lunch for those actually doing work over a fire. In true Spanish style, the lunch break turned into a 2.5-hour party, complete with alcohol, food, Semana Santa pastries, and coffee. While the others filled out information about plants (this took forever since it was mixed in with smoking, drinking, eating, and socializing) we were able to relax in the sun perched on top of a mountain: not a bad way to spend a beautiful afternoon. As each group finished filling out the information, they headed back to where our bus would pick us up. My group left second to last, leaving one group behind. We finally arrived at our bus (we were all pretty exhausted after a long day in the sun) only to find out that the group left behind was now lost somewhere in the mountains. People had cell phones but since we were literally in the middle of nowhere calls were being dropped constantly. In the typical laidback Spanish manner one student said, “Ten people missing, no big deal, let’s head home”. My professor and those in charge were obviously a bit more concerned (aside from the joke that my vulture-obsessed professor kept making about just searching for the circling vultures to find the missing). After waiting 1.5 hours and talking with the police we got in the bus and started searching the mountains for the missing people. After another 45 minutes of searching we found them, in the complete opposite direction than they should have been heading (I have absolutely no idea how they went that way…perhaps all that alcohol was not a good idea). We headed home after a gorgeous day in the mountains with good company, happy to have everyone that we started with. A side note: we were given gifts once again, this time a bit more practical: a t-shirt and rain poncho.
6) Got sunburned. Let’s face it; no matter how much sunscreen I wear, I will always get burned, especially in the Spanish sun.
7) Talked to my greasy sister (and clean Mom and Dad) on Skype.
Thursday, March 6, 2008
Because I Enjoy Being Random
Politics
Spain's elections are this Sunday (they do it on Sunday so no one has an excuse not to vote) and I have to say that I will be ready for that to be over with. As my Señora said the other day, "As the elections get closer and closer all they do is yell louder and louder". I guess some things are the same in every country.
School
School
The University of Sevilla Students are on strike right now, which means no one is going to class. Unfortunately, I am still going to class.
Lunch
Spring
The last few days I have ditched all responsibilities and have decided to continue my studies outside of class enjoying the weather. Monday I spent the afternoon in a park near to my house, people watching and reading. I stayed until the day wound down and then walked through the orange tree lined streets back home. Tuesday I spent the morning at the main park in Sevilla, María Luisa, soaking in the sun and eating lunch with friends. Wednesday, we stopped for ice cream as we walked through the city center in Sevilla, over the bridge into Triana, (my neighborhood) and home. I don’t really think spring in Spain could get any better (except for when family and friends come to visit…the countdown is on).
For my grades’ sake, please pray for some rain…
Lunch
I am relatively certain I ate lamb meatballs for lunch today.
Spring
As much as our professors and program directors tells us that we are in Sevilla to study (as in go to classes), we all know that the most learning is going on outside of classes: on our travels, at our home stays, and in the streets. I have four exams next week, and the whole idea that I need to study for these exams is really wearing on me, especially with the start of spring in Sevilla.
The last few days I have ditched all responsibilities and have decided to continue my studies outside of class enjoying the weather. Monday I spent the afternoon in a park near to my house, people watching and reading. I stayed until the day wound down and then walked through the orange tree lined streets back home. Tuesday I spent the morning at the main park in Sevilla, María Luisa, soaking in the sun and eating lunch with friends. Wednesday, we stopped for ice cream as we walked through the city center in Sevilla, over the bridge into Triana, (my neighborhood) and home. I don’t really think spring in Spain could get any better (except for when family and friends come to visit…the countdown is on).
For my grades’ sake, please pray for some rain…
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Planes, Trains, Automobiles, and a Good Set of Legs: Paris
Last Thursday was “Día de Andalucía” which meant an extra day off, giving all of us students a “puente” or extended break. For my group of friends and myself, this meant a trip to Paris. Most people would think that Paris would be just a hop away from Spain. For the cheap college student (myself) Paris was more like a hop, skip, jump, and 14 hours away. We left at 11:00 pm Wednesday night, taking a 6-hour bus-ride to Madrid. Once arriving in Madrid we had to take the train to get to the Airport, from where we took a 2-hour plane ride to Paris. Once arriving in Paris we took another train to get to the station closest to our hotel, and then walked the rest of the distance to our hotel in the pouring rain with all our luggage, arriving at our hotel at 1:30 in the afternoon. It is times like those that I wish I was rich and didn’t care about spending the money on an incredibly expensive flight from Sevilla and paying for taxis. But then again, if I was, what good stories would I be able to write about here?
Our hotel was an incredible improvement from our last hostel in Madrid, with a cute sitting and breakfast area, friendly staff, and most importantly clean rooms. We were all starving when we arrived and asked the owner for a suggestion for a good place to eat nearby and she suggested this local pizza place. Here, we ran into a first experience with a language barrier. We had hoped that if people didn’t speak English they would speak Spanish, but this was not that case. As we tried to understand what was being told to us about a special deal for buying pizzas to go, the entire restaurant was staring at us. It was a very uncomfortable experience. Never before have I traveled in a place where I haven’t known the dominant language, and I felt like a very ugly American. Traveling throughout Spain we had taken for granted our ability to communicate, and many times when in Paris we would start responding in Spanish only to realize that the language we have been honing for the last 2 months was absolutely useless to us (just as English is in Sevilla). It was a very odd experience and I give even more credit to any immigrant, I was ready to go back to a language I understood in 4 days time.
After eating our first real meal in 15 hours and taking a rest we headed out to the Eiffel Tower. Our initial plan had been to have dinner/lunch on the lawns near the Tower, but the strong winds, rain, and what my wussy Spanish body now calls cold temperatures prevented us from doing so. We were able to see the Tower once the rain stopped, but we all agreed that it is a rather hideous and almost frightening structure during the day. As we hung out by the river that evening, we were able to see it light up, transforming it completely. Later that night we went to the top of the Tower; it was an extraordinary experience with a magnificent view of the city, with the winds whipping around us. As we were watching the city, the bulbs on the Tower started blinking as the do every hour on the hour. We did the majority of our city watching from the 2nd level and from there headed to the 3rd and final level. I have to admit that I was a bit terrified as we headed up to the top; I just wanted the elevator to stop. You really do not realize how high up you are until you are riding to the top, seeing the city shrinking the higher up you are. Once we got our fair shares of sights and thrills, we headed back down to the 2nd level from where we hiked to the bottom to maximize our 11 euros and views.
The other days were spent at the Louvre, the Orsay Museum, the Arc de Triomphe, Sainte-Chapelle, Notre Dame Cathedral, Versailles, and just wandering around Paris. For me, the Louvre was nothing special, just crowded with an overrated painting you may know as the “Mona Lisa” (especially hilarious due to the fact that it is a tiny painting mounted in a glass case on a GIANT wall). Interesting fact about the “Mona Lisa”: for 3 years it was missing because some obsessed museum worker had it rolled up underneath his bed. I much preferred the Orsay Museum (thanks Dad for the recommendation) as the crowds were much smaller, the size much more doable, and the paintings better. The afternoon spent there was a great one. Versailles was another overrated sight for us, once again overrun with crowds. We were also surprised at both its lack of furniture (I have a good imagination but not that good of one) and its lack of descriptions in any other language besides French. The only thing they had written in another language were signs telling you not to do something. My favorite part of Versailles was the garden area, and I can just imagine how magical it is with everything in bloom and the fountains on high power.
Sainte-Chapelle and Notre Dame Cathedral were definite favorites. Sainte-Chapelle was a cathedral built to house the supposed relic of the “Crown of Thorns” and it has practically floor to ceiling stained glass windows, each section telling a story from the Bible. The cathedral was deceiving, because you enter on a plain floor that served as the church for commoners. To get to the main sight, you had to walk up a spiral staircase. I knew I was in for a treat when my friend Dorothy, who was walking in front of me, turned around with a look of amazement. Seconds later, I was stepping into a sun and color soaked room. It was absolutely amazing. It was fun to watch people’s faces as they entered the main church, everyone with the same dazzled expression. The Notre Dame was another great experience, upon entering and seeing the famous rose shaped stained glass windows I actually had goose bumps. Just as amazing was the climb up the bell towers in search of the Hunchback. Oddly enough, the walk up was not as horrible as we thought it would be (400 steps after 2 days of intense walking all across Paris, through airports, train and bus stations seemed very daunting) aside from the rancid smell in the staircase (blamed on the Hunchback), and the view was definitely worth it. Something that continues to amaze me as I cathedral jump from city-to-city and country-to-country is the amount of detail and the beauty of the buildings built so long ago with so little technology.
Another favorite part of the trip was window-shopping along Champs-Elysees, the main street in Paris with high-class stores that leads up to the Arc de Triomphe. The Arc de Triomphe meant another set of stairs, leading to another beautiful night view of Paris and a perfect sendoff as the Eiffel Tower started blinking again. We wound down the night eating crepes on Champs-Elysees, people watching and enjoying each other’s company. There could not have been a better way to wind down the trip.
Sunday, of course, meant another long-haul home. We were welcomed back to Sevilla with the ever-present catcalls, but even better the smell of orange blossoms. In the time we were in Paris, spring had begun in Sevilla. (Just so you all know, today it is 75 degrees). It felt good to be back to a country where I actually understood the language, although it was a little rough after 15 hours of travel to communicate with my Señora. I fell asleep that night with the smells of orange blossoms wafting into my room, welcoming me back.
Our hotel was an incredible improvement from our last hostel in Madrid, with a cute sitting and breakfast area, friendly staff, and most importantly clean rooms. We were all starving when we arrived and asked the owner for a suggestion for a good place to eat nearby and she suggested this local pizza place. Here, we ran into a first experience with a language barrier. We had hoped that if people didn’t speak English they would speak Spanish, but this was not that case. As we tried to understand what was being told to us about a special deal for buying pizzas to go, the entire restaurant was staring at us. It was a very uncomfortable experience. Never before have I traveled in a place where I haven’t known the dominant language, and I felt like a very ugly American. Traveling throughout Spain we had taken for granted our ability to communicate, and many times when in Paris we would start responding in Spanish only to realize that the language we have been honing for the last 2 months was absolutely useless to us (just as English is in Sevilla). It was a very odd experience and I give even more credit to any immigrant, I was ready to go back to a language I understood in 4 days time.
After eating our first real meal in 15 hours and taking a rest we headed out to the Eiffel Tower. Our initial plan had been to have dinner/lunch on the lawns near the Tower, but the strong winds, rain, and what my wussy Spanish body now calls cold temperatures prevented us from doing so. We were able to see the Tower once the rain stopped, but we all agreed that it is a rather hideous and almost frightening structure during the day. As we hung out by the river that evening, we were able to see it light up, transforming it completely. Later that night we went to the top of the Tower; it was an extraordinary experience with a magnificent view of the city, with the winds whipping around us. As we were watching the city, the bulbs on the Tower started blinking as the do every hour on the hour. We did the majority of our city watching from the 2nd level and from there headed to the 3rd and final level. I have to admit that I was a bit terrified as we headed up to the top; I just wanted the elevator to stop. You really do not realize how high up you are until you are riding to the top, seeing the city shrinking the higher up you are. Once we got our fair shares of sights and thrills, we headed back down to the 2nd level from where we hiked to the bottom to maximize our 11 euros and views.
The other days were spent at the Louvre, the Orsay Museum, the Arc de Triomphe, Sainte-Chapelle, Notre Dame Cathedral, Versailles, and just wandering around Paris. For me, the Louvre was nothing special, just crowded with an overrated painting you may know as the “Mona Lisa” (especially hilarious due to the fact that it is a tiny painting mounted in a glass case on a GIANT wall). Interesting fact about the “Mona Lisa”: for 3 years it was missing because some obsessed museum worker had it rolled up underneath his bed. I much preferred the Orsay Museum (thanks Dad for the recommendation) as the crowds were much smaller, the size much more doable, and the paintings better. The afternoon spent there was a great one. Versailles was another overrated sight for us, once again overrun with crowds. We were also surprised at both its lack of furniture (I have a good imagination but not that good of one) and its lack of descriptions in any other language besides French. The only thing they had written in another language were signs telling you not to do something. My favorite part of Versailles was the garden area, and I can just imagine how magical it is with everything in bloom and the fountains on high power.
Sainte-Chapelle and Notre Dame Cathedral were definite favorites. Sainte-Chapelle was a cathedral built to house the supposed relic of the “Crown of Thorns” and it has practically floor to ceiling stained glass windows, each section telling a story from the Bible. The cathedral was deceiving, because you enter on a plain floor that served as the church for commoners. To get to the main sight, you had to walk up a spiral staircase. I knew I was in for a treat when my friend Dorothy, who was walking in front of me, turned around with a look of amazement. Seconds later, I was stepping into a sun and color soaked room. It was absolutely amazing. It was fun to watch people’s faces as they entered the main church, everyone with the same dazzled expression. The Notre Dame was another great experience, upon entering and seeing the famous rose shaped stained glass windows I actually had goose bumps. Just as amazing was the climb up the bell towers in search of the Hunchback. Oddly enough, the walk up was not as horrible as we thought it would be (400 steps after 2 days of intense walking all across Paris, through airports, train and bus stations seemed very daunting) aside from the rancid smell in the staircase (blamed on the Hunchback), and the view was definitely worth it. Something that continues to amaze me as I cathedral jump from city-to-city and country-to-country is the amount of detail and the beauty of the buildings built so long ago with so little technology.
Another favorite part of the trip was window-shopping along Champs-Elysees, the main street in Paris with high-class stores that leads up to the Arc de Triomphe. The Arc de Triomphe meant another set of stairs, leading to another beautiful night view of Paris and a perfect sendoff as the Eiffel Tower started blinking again. We wound down the night eating crepes on Champs-Elysees, people watching and enjoying each other’s company. There could not have been a better way to wind down the trip.
Sunday, of course, meant another long-haul home. We were welcomed back to Sevilla with the ever-present catcalls, but even better the smell of orange blossoms. In the time we were in Paris, spring had begun in Sevilla. (Just so you all know, today it is 75 degrees). It felt good to be back to a country where I actually understood the language, although it was a little rough after 15 hours of travel to communicate with my Señora. I fell asleep that night with the smells of orange blossoms wafting into my room, welcoming me back.
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