Verona & Padova Pics

I forgot to mention, we saw Galileo's house in Padova! Apparently he used to teach at the university.

Northern Italy 1

So I am just over two weeks behind on blogging. I think today I could catch up to the present. Yes, I have really only updating about my travels and not my day to day life, but seriously, day to day life is just that. It really doesn’t change too much from Cornell to Santander. I go to class. The classes are sometimes interesting. The classes are sometimes excruciating. I go home. I eat. I study. I procrastinate. I catch up on the goings on of the world (to some extent). I repeat. Sometimes interesting events punctuate life in Cantabria, but that is usually the travelling.

For example, second semester started this past Monday. I missed that day as I was still travelling, but apparently a lot of other students did too. The next day I found a few new students in our class. Two kids from Poland, Michael and Kasha, and John from the UK. We had them over for chicken parm, cornbread and apple pie and brought them around Santander a little bit. They are really interesting people and I look forward to getting to know them better. Kasha told me she likes how we Americans speak. She said that she feels like she is in the movies when we talk around her. The longer I stay in Europe, the more I realize that Europeans pretty much base most of what they think about Americans on what they see in movies and TV shows. I am commonly asked if the college frat parties are anything like Animal House or if we all have our own houses like they show in the movies. When I think about it, although movies are usually exaggerated, they are sometimes a good example of American culture.

Well, back to adventure updates.

Italy

The first two days that Hill and I (and later Caitlyn) were in Venice we actually stayed off the island in Mestre (or Margherita?) and took day trips to nearby cities. The first day we headed off to Verona, home of Romeo and Juliet.

Verona, Italy

Well, as I just said, Verona is the setting of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Hill and I thought it would be a great place to start our travels in Italy, saving our site seeing of Venice for when Cailtyn joined us. To our amazement, train travel in Italy was surprisingly straight forward and relatively cheap (way better than France as far as I could tell). We hopped on one of the many frequent trains to Verona and made it there in just an hour and a half. Then we hit a snag. We were kept on the train for what seemed like an eternity and what ended up verging on half an hour. They just kept the doors closed, without a single announcement about why we were being detained (not that it would have helped as it would have most surely been only in Italian). We finally were allowed off the train and overheard that somebody had jumped into the tracks and taken their life. We couldn’t confirm this, but that definitely shook us up a little bit.

After our anticipation grew while waiting to exit the train, we realized we had no idea where we were heading, but like in most Italian cities, we eventually happened upon some Roman ruins and found some tourist information. While walking aimlessly we saw (in my mind) the quintessential Italian countryside: the rolling hills, the slender evergreens, the blue skies and Mediterranean architecture. It really was quite astounding and picturesque. Eventually we made it to the historic center and purchased a guide book to help us know what we were seeing and guide us to the things we needed to see.

I was actually surprised by the number of things there were to see. I had only been expecting perhaps a monument to Romeo and Juliet and some quaint streets. Instead we were directed to the “Juliet House” (Hillary liked to point out that she did not exist and therefore there she did not have a house), a Roman arena second in size and importance to only the Coliseum, and some pretty incredible piazzas.

Juliet’s house apparently used to belong to a family that is said to have inspired the Capulets, at least as far as name derivation goes. This is hands down the main attraction of Verona. Tourists flocked to the house to either look up at the balcony and pretend to serenade sweet Juliet or to grope Juliet’s statue down in the courtyard. Yes, the popular thing to do is to grope Juliet’s statue. Her chest is shiny and smooth from all the extra loving and attention she has received over the years. On the walls leading into the courtyard is graffiti from thousands of star crossed lovers who have come to see one of the most famous couples in history.

I was more impressed with the Roman arena. It was still very intact, and apparently is still put to use quite often. They perform musicals, operas, and other events in the structure, and have for over one thousand years. Pretty impressive if you ask me.

Luckily the trains were back up and functioning when we decided to head back to Mestre. We were hoping to go back to the hostel and settle in for some Super Bowl watching. No dice. The TV that was in the common room didn’t work. Even if it did work, it probably would not have had any station showing the game. Disappointed, we decided to head into Venice to see if there was a better chance of catching the game in the city. We saw some Erasmus posters up advertising various parties and hoped they were perhaps hosting a viewing of the big game. Still, no luck. Instead we lost ourselves in the winding streets, happening upon the famous Rialto Bridge and San Marco’s square. Eventually we exited the city on our way back to Mestre without finding a place to watch the game.

Padova, Italy

The next day we headed to Padova, another old city located perhaps half an hour from Venice. Again, it had some Roman ruins of an old arena, but was obviously much more modern than Verona. We had to dodge trams and passed modern buildings as we made it to the historic center. The main attraction in Padova is Saint Anthony’s Basilica, this gigantic and beautiful cathedral with big blue domes imposing over the city.

Neither of us being particularly religious and knowing that Caitlyn would be arriving in Venice soon, we didn’t stay too long in Padova. But we did make one stop before departing the city. Wikitravel recommended Il Rei de Kebab as a great falafel joint. For some reason, we all have become obsessed with falafel since being in Europe resulting in seeking it out in every country we visit and holding falafel Fridays (in conjunction with flannel Fridays). Well Wikitravel, you win this round. That falafel sandwich was arguably the best I have had here in Europe. Kudos Il Rei de Kebab, we salute you and your gigantic pitas filled with delicious fried chickpeas, sauces and vegetable salads.

After our feast we picked up Caitlyn from the train station and went shopping for some dinner. Fresh Italian mozzarella, focaccia bread, cherry tomatoes and a tub of chocolate hazelnut gelato. True bliss.

Southern Spain 2

Third stop: CORDOBA

Well, you may think that by now I am done with Moorish architecture. I have seen the Giralda and Alcazaba in Seville. I just took in the Alhambra. I have even been to Morocco. What more could I want? Well, surprisingly, I was ready for the Mezquita in Cordoba.

The ride from Granada to Cordoba was beautiful. We passed rolling hills covered in almond trees blossoming with tiny white flowers and rows and rows of olive trees as far as the eye could see. Spain still does not cease to amaze me. The country is so diverse.

Well, we arrived in Cordoba, and like most cities in Spain, its roads went every which way. Somehow we find our hostel without a map. Eager to take in the sites, we head straight for the Mezquita. We find out it costs 8 euro or something around there. Reasonable for such a historic site. But then we discover that it is free on Sundays. Tomorrow is Sunday. I think we know when we are visiting the Mezquita.

Instead, we wander around a bit. We cross the bridge to some castle like hold. We locate Cordoba’s alcazar and see the gardens… under construction. I understand that travelling during the low season will have some drawbacks. In exchange for smaller crowds and less tourists I understand the weather will be worse and the hours will be shorter. That doesn’t mean that everything has to be under construction, too. Seriously, does everything go under construction in the winter every year, or is it just our luck that this winter everything happens to need restoration?

Despite the construction, the gardens and the fortress are pretty astounding. These Moors and their perfect geometry. They might have been short (even I didn’t fit in some of their doorways), but they made up for it with recessed lighting shaped like stars and gardens that put many others to shame.

Hungry, yet kitchenless, we raided a OpenCor grocery store and feast in one of the countless quaint plazas dotted throughout Cordoba. Yet again, we found ourselves wondering what to do with our time. We were putting off the Mezquita until tomorrow and had already seen the Alcazar. We tried to get into the royal horse barn but to no avail. Noticing that Cordoba pretty much had a church for every resident, we began wandering the streets, stopping at cathedrals we found along the way. Then we spotted some posters advertising a free concert at the Metropolis. Not knowing where the Metropolis was nor having a means of finding out where it was, we decided to walk along the streets until we found it. We had a few hours and Cordoba is only so big.

Well, that plan didn’t work out too well. We found Roman ruins and more churches, but were no closer to finding the Metropolis than an hour ago. We went back to the hostel and asked the receptionist. She took our map and drew an arrow at the very edge. She told us that it wasn’t on the map, but if we walked in the direction and took some lefts and some rights and asked around we would be able to find it in an industrial area of town. Rock music in an industrial area of town? Count me in.

Hillary and I started off in that direction, stopping by the old town’s wall for a bit to pass the time. Eventually we find ourselves in an industrial part of town, hoping to Dios that we find the Metropolis and that the 75 minute walk out of town was worth it. After passing discount furniture stores and warehouses, Hillary shouts out, “AH! We found it!”

Our receptionist was not lying. The Metropolis was definitely a long walk out of town. Well, we stand in line with maybe 10 Spanish people waiting to enter the free concert. A while after entering the place the first band starts to play. They were pretty good and it was great to finally be at a concert again, but exhaustion took hold and we knew we had to wake early to get to the Mezquita. After the first set we headed back to the hostel.

Again, the Moors were a great civilization. The old mosque was so great that when the Christians took over the city they could not bear to tear it down. Instead, they built a cathedral right inside the old mosque. That’s right, the Mezquita is this series of beautiful Moorish arches and architecture surrounding a cathedral that was plopped right in the center. The contrast is stark. The dark aspects of the mosque juxtaposed with a brightly lit church. Even the ornaments of each style are so different.

Well, we finish with the Mezquita and drop by the synagogue before leaving for Seville. What a religious day.

Last Stop: SEVILLA

We had already been in Sevilla before. This time it was more of a stopping point before flying to Venice. That didn’t mean we didn’t want to site see some more. And unlike last time we were in Sevilla, the weather was perfect. We revisited the Plaza de Espana, and this time could actually bask in the center instead of huddling underneath the arches of the building to avoid the rain. We walked along the river and just enjoyed the weather.

Back at the hostel we try to simulate a little bit of America with a dinner of cheese burgers and fries that left us wholly unsatisfied. The burgers didn’t brown, but instead turned pink, making us fear for our health as we bit in. The fries didn’t crisp. The cheese we bought said it was cheddar. It was actually a terrible version of American cheese. I hate American cheese. That does not count as cheese when you hail from Wisconsin. Oh well, at least the kilo of clementines that we split was delicious.

Cordoba and Sevilla Pics

Granada Pics

Southern Spain 1

Successfully finishing my first semester at the Universidad de Cantabria, I think I owe myself some type of reward. How about a trip to southern Spain? Great! And how about you tack on a week to Italy? Sounds like a plan! That is exactly what I did for my two weeks in between first semester finals and the beginning of second semester classes.

First stop: MALAGA

From what I can tell, Malaga could be great in the summer. When we were riding the city bus towards our hostel we passed some great big old structures that looked awesome and the beach looks nice, well, at least in the dark. We didn’t spend too much time in Malaga. It was just a stepping stone to the real goal (well, the first goal) of the trip, Granada. We flew into Malaga, took a bus several miles in the wrong direction, walked several miles back in the right direction, slept, and saw the bus station. Good times in Malaga.

Second stop: GRANADA

After a short bus ride we arrived in Granada (literally pomegranate in Spanish, I did not see a pomegranate in Granada). After dropping off our stuff in the hostel we head to the Alhambra, the main attraction of Granada (and possibly one of the top attractions of Spain). According to a quick perusal through the Wikipedia entry, the Alhambra is a palace and fortress constructed in the 14^th century by the Moors and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site (the first of many on this trip).

While accurate, this description kind of falls flat in comparison to the actual building. You may remember from my stint in Seville that the Moors kind of had a knack for architecture and carving. Well, while I was impressed with the Alcazaba in Seville, the Alhambra blew me away. The intricate carvings weren’t even the start of it. The attention to detail was astounding. The details had details. The gardens were perfect. The view of the city was astounding. The view of the Sierra Nevada was even better. I could have spent hours exploring the building and grounds. To make things better, the weather was perfect. We had nothing but blue skies and warm weather.

Following hours of exploring this labyrinth of gardens and buildings, Hillary and I were ready for something new. Unfortunately, we researched very little for Granada. We knew the Alhambra was the attraction of the city, but that was it. So we slowly wandered the streets and took in the truly peaceful day.While accurate, this description kind of falls flat in comparison to the actual building. You may remember from my stint in Seville that the Moors kind of had a knack for architecture and carving. Well, while I was impressed with the Alcazaba in Seville, the Alhambra blew me away. The intricate carvings weren’t even the start of it. The attention to detail was astounding. The details had details. The gardens were perfect. The view of the city was astounding. The view of the Sierra Nevada was even better. I could have spent hours exploring the building and grounds. To make things better, the weather was perfect. We had nothing but blue skies and warm weather.

While eating dinner we met a really friendly guy from Cordoba, Argentina. He invited us to go out with him and some other people from the hostel for tapas. A group of Czechs, Argentines, Brazilians, French, Germans and, of course, Americans headed out to the bars for real tapas. It was a lot of fun and was really interesting to see English act as the common link between so many nationalities. I am truly lucky it is my first language!

Early the next day we made our way to the Sierra Nevada mountain range. We were really looking forward to the trineo ruso or literally Russian bobsled. Apparently it is like a really tame rollercoaster, but in the snow. Well, upon arrival to the snowy mountains we wandered over to the kid part of the ski village. It had ice skating, snow bikes and yes, trineo ruso, pretty much anything I could want from a ski village. We approached the trineo ruso ticket booth and asked for two rides. Then we hit our first snag. The women replied to us that she needs workers there and that we would have to wait. Hillary and I, not entirely understanding, awkwardly wait around for a few minutes before deciding it would take more time for workers to arrive. Instead of having an awesome fun time on the bobsled, we go explore what the ski village has to offer. In short, it has ski rentals, clothes rentals (interesting), and their corresponding ski and clothes shops. We were momentarily intrigued by the Bumerang (we assumed it was pronounced bum, not boom) which was essentially a shovel for your bum which you could use to sled down the mountain. Fun! Wait, no! We came here to ride some Russian bobsleds and we will not be swayed by a totally awesome mini sled. Keep focused.

We continued wandering. We took in the scenery of the snow capped mountains and stopped in a place to eat and play Dutch Blitz (there was a lot of Dutch Blitz playing on this trip, A LOT). Finally we decided that the workers must be at the trineo ruso. We walked back over, only to be confronted with even more disappointment. This time they told us that it was booked up. Well, great Sierra Nevada trineo ruso people for ruining the awesome time we were going to have.

Mad as hell, or at least slightly disheartened, we purchased some very expensive gondola rides to the top of the mountain and absorbed all the snowy glory that awaited us at the top. More Dutch Blitz inside the ski lodge ensued and we descended the mountain to return to Granada.

Off to Ireland

In a spur of the moment flurry of decision making, I will be headed off to Ireland in April! That's right! The Green Island will not know what is coming.

You may ask yourself, but why isn't Zach going for Saint Patrick's Day? Wouldn't Dublin for St Patty's be awesome?

Well, yes, I suppose it would be. But the flight would also be 4 times more expensive and the streets would be filled with 10 times more obnoxiously drunk travelers. No, April will be the perfect time. I will get to see my old tandem partner Ruth. I will see the Cliffs of Moher in better weather. I will drink my Guinness in an authentic Irish pub in relatively more peace. Yes, Ireland will be great in April.

Rome pics

Rome, at last

I am falling further and further behind. I don’t know why, but I have been putting off updating my blog to the extent that it has now been a month since I was in Rome and I still haven’t written about it. Well that is going to change, and hopefully I can catch up to present day soon. Without further ado…

ROME

Arriving late in the evening our first night, we check into our cute B&B (decently cheap by the way). Although it didn’t have the feel of a hostel that I always look forward to, it did have slamming breakfasts with glazed and cream filled croissants, toast, yogurt and juice and it was only 5 minutes from the Forum and the Coliseum.

Actually, let’s back up a little bit.

We touch down in Rome in “another on time flight” (read in an Irish accent, for Ryanair flyers, you know what I mean). We file out of the plane and, like the good little travelers we have started to become, try to locate an information desk to pick up a map. Easy, right?

Well, no, actually.

We follow the signs pointing towards informazione like lost sheep and find ourselves standing in front of a TV with a place to speak into. We hit call and are connected with a woman on the other end. We shout into the mic, the situation somewhat resembling a terrible drive thru experience, and request a map. Amidst the hubbub of the airport we cannot even make out a word of the woman’s instructions. We just nod and walk away. Welcome to Italy.

As we exit the terminal we are mobbed by taxi drivers. No thank you, we bought our bus ticket already, please back off and give us our room. Lost, an airport worker approaches us and offers us help. Mack snaps back that we don’t want his help if he is just trying to get us a taxi. I ask him where the busses are and he directs us. We get on the bus without any more excitement.

Comfortably seated, I start to settle into the bus, ready to depart. Then an Italian guy comes and sits right next to me. Note, the bus was nearly empty. But no, he forces me to place my bag at my feet, leaving me no room, and then proceeds to talk to his mom on the phone. For the entire bus ride. Using his hands. Why do the bus gods hate me so? I flashback to the time I rode the bus to Washington DC from Cornell for spring break of freshman year. This wasn’t nearly as bad as that ride when a Bobby Brown/Whitney Houston-like couple cracked up out of their minds sat a few seats away from me. I can still not block out the vomiting on the floor. Nor the scene they created when they broke up and Bobby Brown proceeded to hit on every girl that passed him, offering to fill every orifice he could find.

Anyways, we make it to Termini Stazione and, again, attempt to find informazione to obtain a map. This time they were just having fun with us. The signs led us in circles and in the end we gave up. We took the metro to our stop, got out, and luckily found the B&B without too much trouble.

Okay, so we head out from our room and immediately take advantage of our close proximity to some of the oldest things I have ever seen. Phrasing it that way kind of devalues the Roman ruins. Well, we walked past the Forum down the empty street towards the Coliseum. It is exactly what I was expecting, fulfilling all of my dreams sparked by my childhood viewing of The Gladiator, well, besides the actual gladiator fights and no Russell Crowe in sight.

Hungry and tired we head back to our place and stop at a restaurant for the greatest lasagna of the trip. At this point I have only been in Italy for maybe 4 hours and already could see myself living here. The euphoric feelings brought on by the Italian food wear off and I snap back to reality. I couldn’t even locate a map and I don’t speak the language. Besides the fact that I would die an early death from obesity brought on by the food, I remember that I could never afford to eat out every night and would therefore need an Italian mother if I were ever to actually eat like this on a regular basis. Plan shot, need rest.

The next day we head off to the smallest country in the world. Confronted by a line and men telling us we needed tickets (not sure we did), we exit the Holy See, but only after sending my sister a postcard from probably the only post office in the country. Sadly, I had no epiphanies or religious rebirths. Luckily, this meant I would still be eligible for birth right which Rebstar and I have to look forward to (I am not actually sure I qualify for birth right, but I am going to delude myself up until the point of fatal disappointment).

The rest of the day we spent wandering the Roman ruins we found scattered throughout the city. We saw the Palatino, the Coliseum, the Forum, Circus Maximus (well, the site that it was once located) and random ionic columns or statues we happened upon while walking. We got a pro tip from this guy we met in Nice, telling us a free tour left from the Spanish Steps in the evening. We confirmed this through research online. Well, after a trek up to the steps, we tried to find where this tour could possibly have been leaving from. If you haven’t been to the Spanish Steps, you try finding something in the evening. The area is comparable to Las Ramblas in Barcelona, but with twice as many people. The plaza (piazza?) was crowded beyond belief and we just got lost in the commotion. No free tour for us. Oh well.

We meandered back in the direction of our B&B, stopping by Fontana Trevi, the Pantheon, and random other sites on our way. Trevi definitely was everything I was hoping for (and more, like all the extra tourists). The fountain is impressive, to say the least. We made our wishes by throwing our coins with our right hand over our left shoulder (I think). We only saw the outside of the Pantheon and were disappointed to see it under construction, but as I have learned, everything is under construction. Always.

Well, as we know, all good things come to an end. No, my trip wasn’t over. The fearsome twosome of Zach and Mack was splitting. Mack headed up to Bologna to meet up with another friend studying there, while I remained in Rome to stick it out for the rest of the trip alone.

The next day I made it into Saint Peter’s Basilica (sans ticket). I ended up not knowing how to get to the Sistine Chapel, but I did go up in the dome and the view of the city was amazing. It was well worth the hike up the narrow stairways with walls that made it impossible to stand up straight. I even met some women from Valencia and we spoke a little Spanish together, I was getting out of practice.

Well, I spent the rest of my days wandering the streets, filling up on gelato and studying for fluids (our professor set a prelim for the day we got back from break!). But after almost 20 days, 7 countries and over a dozen cities, I was exhausted and looking forward to returning to Santander. The trip was definitely eventful and I will always remember the Swedish man running up to me yelling, “He just punched a hooker.” Yes, staying in Europe over the break was definitely worth it. There will be other Christmases that I can spend with my family, but how many opportunities will I have to countdown the New Year at the Eiffel Tower or cross an international border on foot? Not many, not many.

Back to classes

So I arrived safely home in Santander after a full two weeks of travelling. To be sure, there are plenty of stories to share, but as I have been up since 4.30 this morning, I will update you shortly. As for now, I need to get some sleep. Second semester classes started today and I need to rest up!