Lord willing and the creek don’t rise.

As much as I enjoy traveling with students– it’s extremely cool to see them experience new places and ideas– I’m much more suited to the “What do you want to do today?” sort of adventure. Don’t get me wrong– tours can be great; they’re like sampler platters of a country. But I like having time to be lazy on trips, and to not have to obsess about missing a train or what have you.

To that end, I’m headed to Paraguay (with a side jaunt to Argentina) on Tuesday. My sister is currently a Peace Corps Volunteer stationed in San Estanislao, working in Environmental Conservation– she’s working on a tree-planting project right now. Her term is up in December of this year (assuming she doesn’t re-up for another year. any decision yet, Em?), and I really want to be able to get a feel for the place where she’s been living for the past two years. My mom and dad went down to visit her last September, and she came home for Christmas this past year, but it’s going to be great to get to spend some time with her that’s (a) not over Skype or (b) interrupted by my work schedule. I’m looking forward to meeting her host families, seeing her house– I hear there’s a kitchen now, even if there are also bats– and meeting some of the kids at the school where she works sometimes. Assuming they’re not out for vacation or flooding or whatever. Anything else we do is really a bonus.

But Em’s a planner, so right now our rough schedule looks like this:

July 2: I arrive in Asuncion, Paraguay. Hopefully she will let me take a nap before we go adventuring. Goals for this day include visiting the Peace Corps office to meet some of her co-PCVs and the office staff, maybe wandering the city a little to get a feel for it. Assuming it’s not all underwater.

July 3 – 7: We take a bus to Em’s site on the 3rd. The next few days we’ll knock around her village and meet people. I foresee much terrere during these days.* We’ll get up early early on the morning of the 7th (which happens to be my birthday), and catch a bus to Argentina to see Iguazu Falls.

July 7 – 10: Basically the 7th will be a wash with traveling, but we should be in Argentina by the evening, leaving us the 8th and 9th to explore the falls and surrounding area. Again, this is all assuming that we don’t need snorkles, because there’s MASSIVE flooding going on in this area right now. The news reports I’m reading, however, suggest that the floodwaters should be receding in the next three days or so, so we might be okay. If the falls are too dangerous to visit, however, I still think we should go to Argentina and knock around. Just so I can say I did. We’ll leave Argentina early on the morning 10th, and head back to Paraguay.

July 10 – 12: After leaving Argentina, we’ll get on another bus and go to Encarnacion, Paraguay, so that we can visit the Jesuit ruins in that part of the country. We’ll visit the ruins on the 11th– it’ll take all day, I think– and then we’ll get up on the 12th to head back to Asuncion.

July 12 – 14: We’ll spend the last few days of my visit in the capital city, and I’d like to visit the hippie market, and some of the (very tiny and weirdly curated) museums, and maybe see the Cathedral of the Martyrs? It’s dedicated to Paraguay’s national heroes, and has a very weird combination of religion and nationalism that I’m interested in seeing. And then I fly out on the evening of July 14th, and I’ll be back in Atlanta by the morning of the 15th.

(And then I’m going to crash for a week, and it’ll be about time for pre-planning!)

So. That’s hopefully the plan. But there are a few things that might make it a little complicated. Firstly, there’s been heavy, heavy rains in the southeast of Paraguay right now, and given that there’s very little infrastructure in the country, this has resulted in some serious flooding– particularly in Asuncion. So that could be a little complicated. Secondly, even if the floodwaters recede by the time I get there, the roads are going to be an EPIC mess– they’re mostly dirt, so they may be impassible.

Thus, the watch word for this trip is flexibility. Would I like to see Iguazu? Of course. Will I be devastated if I don’t get to? Nope. We could just hang out at Em’s site for the full two weeks, and that would be cool with me. But here’s hoping the weather cooperates, there are no national strikes, and that Argentina isn’t eliminated from the World Cup while we’re in-country.

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* Terrere is the national drink of Paraguay, and it’s similar to mate in Argentina or a number of other South American countries. It’s a cold herbal tea with a LOT of caffiene, and it’s a hospitality thing. Unless you’re sick, you should drink the WHOLE guampa (cup) as it’s offered to you. So everyone uses the same bombilla (metal straw with a filter at the bottom), and you sit around and drink the stuff for hours, apparently. Em made some while she was home over Christmas, and it’s not bad. I should be able to drink it without offending anyone, at least.

Volver.

Well, we’re all back home.  I’m currently watching Spain play Chile in the World Cup (the score is 0-2 Chile, and there’s not much time left for Spain), and I’ve got a stack of photographs from our trip in front of me on my coffee table.  But I know that I didn’t write about our last day of the trip– our day in Morocco– so I thought I’d sit down and write something up now, before I forget too much.

We got up early on Sunday morning and were ready to leave the hotel by 6:45.  We had to be up and out so early because it was about an hour and a half’s drive to the port to catch the ferry, which left at 9:30.  The bus ride over was extremely quiet– most of the kids were out cold in less than twenty minutes, and only woke up as we pulled up to the port.  We caught the ferry in Algeciras, and could see the imposing shape of the rock of Gibraltar out in the water.  (Seeing Gibraltar was extremely cool for me, because it made me think of my grandfather, who spent some time in north Africa during World War II and drew some pictures of Gibraltar during his time there.  Also, it made me want to sing Nat King Cole’s “Our Love Is Here To Stay” all day long.)  Boarding the ferry turned out to be pretty low-key and easy, and the seating onboard was very comfortable.  I know a lot of kids went and stood by the railings to get a better view, but most of us chaperons were content to sit in the comfy chairs and relax for a little while.

The ferry didn’t arrive directly in Morocco; instead, it landed in the autonomous Spanish city of Ceuga, where we met our guide for the day, Abdul.  Abdul had a rather odd sense of humor– I’m chalking some of his commentary up to distinct cultural differences, particularly his jokes about needing another wife– but he was friendly and genuinely concerned that the kids experience as much of Morocco as possible in one short day.  I know that the kids found his accent heavier than they were used to, but they were very respectful and listened carefully, trying to make sure they understood what he was saying.  For my part, I found it was actually easier for me to speak to Abdul in Spanish than it was for me to speak in English– both of us managed a little better that way.

It was about a forty-five minute drive to our destination, Tetouan, so we stopped about halfway there for the kids to stop and do something incredibly touristy: ride a camel.  Some of the kids went for it, some didn’t– there were some among our group who had some serious concerns about the way the camels were treated, which was a fair point.  But as I told the kids on the day, tourism isn’t a neutral activity.  It has its positive and negative consequences, just like any industry.  And yes, one of the negative consequences of tourism in Morocco might be the treatment of the camels which were available for us to ride– that industry wouldn’t exist without tourist demand for it.  But conversely, that industry provides income to the people who work in it, and so the issue is far more complicated than it appears on the surface.  For my part, I didn’t ride the camels.  But I did ooh and ahh over the baby camels that were there, because they were super adorable.

Baby camel!

After our camel adventure was over, we got back on the bus and drove to our destination.  Before visiting the old portion of Tetouan, Abdul took us to a craft school, where students learn to produce traditional Moroccan and Arab crafts– woodworking, wrought iron, embroidery– all sorts of beautiful things.  Since it was the weekend, however, there weren’t any students present, which was probably for the best.  I can’t imagine having fifty-two people file through your workshop would make it very easy to focus.

Unintentional Moroccan workshop selfie.

After our visit to the craft school, Abdul and another guide brought us into the walled section of the old city, called the medina.  Inside, the streets were extremely narrow and twisted, and filled with houses, mosques, shops, open stalls, public baths, fountains, and tiny little public squares.  I found the medina to be absolutely fascinating, and I wouldn’t have minded spending the whole day wandering through the streets.  I loved how you could basically shop by smell– we passed vendors with enormous piles of cilantro and garlic and onions and olives, bunches of lavender and rosemary, carts of fresh fish and crates of clucking white-feathered chickens, open bags of lentils and beans and jars full of cumin and nutmeg and coriander.  There were also less savory smells– this was a very old part of the city, and so drainage and sanitation was not exactly up to what most of us expect in the developed world.

Fresh fruits and vegetables in the medina.

I loved how very different Tetouan felt, although I know it was surprising and somewhat distressing to some students, who I think were expecting the city to be a little cleaner and less distinctly foreign.  But I tend to be of the opinion that travel should stretch us, and should make us uncomfortable, sometimes.  We don’t learn a lot by staying still and doing what makes us feel safe, I think.  And we were perfectly safe in the medina; I think it was just very easy for the kids to see how quickly they could get lost, and how very little they knew about Arabic culture.

The old Jewish quarter of the medina.

Abdul eventually led us to a spice shop which doubled as a homeopathic pharmacy, where a very nice man presented a number of local products to us– lotions and oils and blocks of ambergris, as well as saffron and other spices.  We stayed for about forty-five minutes in the shop, and the kids loaded up on beauty products and perfumes and gifts for family and friends.  For my part, I bought some saffron, because it’s horrendously expensive in the States, and almost reasonable in Morocco, where it’s grown.

After our spice adventure, we went off to lunch.  The kids were dragging by this point, so the food was extremely welcome.  We were served flatbread, vegetable soup, enormous platters of couscous with vegetables and chicken, and sweet date cookies with mint tea.  The food was very good, but heavy and warm, and it made me very sleepy.  Following our meal, Abdul took us to a rug shop, where we looked at some very beautiful textiles which were quite out of my price range, and then to the shop below where the kids could buy some souvenirs for their families and try their hand at bargaining.  I think perhaps we should have practiced bargaining beforehand, because I’m pretty sure that the kids didn’t push the prices as hard as they could have.  Ah, well.  You live and learn.

Once everyone had finished shopping, Abdul escorted us back to the bus, and we drove back to the port of Ceuta.  The ferry ride back to Spain was uneventful (if you ignore the number of bags of gummi bears the kids bought in the duty free shop), and after we got back on the bus in Spain and drove to the hotel, we had dinner about ten o’clock.

A ten o’clock dinner in Spain isn’t that odd, but for those of us who had to take the early flight out on Monday morning, it was a pretty late night– especially since we had to be on the bus, ready to leave, by 3:45 in the morning.

Oy.

Really, it made more sense to think of it as taking a nap, rather than actually going to bed.  But we all managed to get packed up, try to sleep, and make it down to the bus in time.  From there, it was just a matter of checking out bags, dozing at the gate in Malaga, trying to sleep through three screaming babies on the flight from Malaga to Paris, running from one gate to another at Charles de Gaulles, and then waiting out the eight hour flight back to Atlanta.  A long day, and rather exhausting– but we all made it home, and without too many problems.

So!  Overall, it was an extremely successful and enlightening trip.  I definitely learned a lot of new things, and I’ve got an idea of places I’d like to return to see more of, someday.

Now, to relax for the next week and a half, and then it’s on to Paraguay and Argentina.

Ciudad de las operas.

Oh, it is so much more pleasant right now. The chaperons are currently lazing about the pool on lounge chairs, watching the kids splash around in the pool– and it is lovely and breezy and oh so much less oppressive than it was this afternoon in Sevilla. According to our driver, it was 45 degrees Centigrade this afternoon at three, which converts to 113 degrees Fahrenheit. So. That was not awesome.

Sevilla as a city, on the other hand, definitely was awesome. Sevilla served as the main entry point for goods from the Americas into Europe during the high point of Spain’s empire during the 16th and 17th centuries, and so became extremely wealthy and influential– which is part of the reason why so many operas and novels use Sevilla (or Seville) as their setting. Georges Bizet’s Carmen? Set in Sevilla. The Barber of Seville? Same thing. The novel Don Juan Tenorio? Sevilla. Shakespeare even makes reference to Sevilla in Much Ado About Nothing, if I remember correctly.*

Sevilla, like many cities in the Old World, was initially a walled city, and the older portion of the city reflects the physical boundaries of the city– the streets are winding and narrow, and it requires quite a good directional sense in order to be able to find one’s way through the maze. There are a number of cool little plazas throughout the old Jewish quarter, and then eventually all the streets pour out into the central area where the cathedral and El Alcazar palace are located.

This morning, we took a quick driving tour of a newer part of Sevilla– the pavilions built for the Iberoamerican Exhibition of 1929. Most of the buildings originally housed exhibits and cultural displays from all of Spain’s former colonies as a means of trying to increase economic, political, and cultural exchange between nations. The buildings are mostly a mixture of traditional Spanish construction, Art Deco, and the traditional design aesthetic of each country. We spent some time in the Plaza de Espana, which was stunning, and then headed to the heart of the old city.**

Bridge in la Plaza de Espana.

Our guide for the day, Gloria, took us to El Alcanzar palace– a beautiful Arabic style palace built by Pedro I, the king of one of the Spanish kingdoms which existed prior to the unification of the Spain under Isabella and Ferdinand. While Pedro I was Christian, he evidently had a very pragmatic– and in many ways modern– understanding of the disparate religious groups under his control. His palace therefore contains Christian iconography, along with verses from the Qu’ran in plasterwork along the walls, and wrought iron stars of David worked into the gates. The palace itself is breathtaking, and the gardens looked lovely– although it was to hot to really explore them in any great measure. (Today was a day for shadow hopping and seeking out the coolest possible path between two points.)

El Alcanzar Palace in Sevilla.

After our tour of the palace, we crossed the central square to visit the cathedral of Sevilla, which is the third largest cathedral in the world. While it was lovely, it wasn’t my favorite– although that could just be because it houses (one of) the tomb(s) of Christopher Columbus, and I have mixed feelings about him. Many of the kids undertook the trek up to the top of the belltower– an old structure which used to be a minaret for the mosque which stood on the site of the cathedral prior to its construction. Interestingly, there weren’t stairs to the top of the tower– there were a series of ramps, because when the fellow who made the call to prayer became elderly, he would take a horse to the top of the minaret five times a day, instead of having to climb a huge number of stairs. All I could think was that the poor horse must have been terribly confused– and hopefully very sure-footed.

Following our exploration of the cathedral, we broke for lunch– a very leisurely and deliberate lunch, because it was about a million degrees and none of us wanted to risk walking any further or faster than we had to. Then we hopped back on our bus and headed off to Torremolinas, just outside of Malagas. We arrived at the hotel around 6:45, had dinner, and now the kids are about to meet up to discuss the plan for tomorrow– our much-anticipated trip to Morroco. We’ll be up quite early tomorrow, so after the kids meet up and discuss dress code and cultural practices, it’s off to bed for an early night.

And then it’s just a (very) long day of flights and connections and bad airplane food, and we’ll be home!

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* I think the reference comes when Beatrice makes a comment about another character being envious, saying that he is as “civil as an orange, and something of that jealous complexion.” Civil is a play on Seville, and the implication is that he’s bitter, because the oranges in Sevilla are bitter oranges, not sweet. And thus ends the Shakespeare lesson.

** Please imagine a tilde over the n in Espana. It’s bugging me that I can’t put one in right now.

Time for a siesta.

Hace calor, es cierto. We’re now in the south of Spain– Andalusia– and this is the region affectionately known as “the frying pan” of the country. Today the temperature was in the mid-nineties, but because we visited the mosque at Cordoba today, we needed the kids to dress modestly– which meant we had to ask them to wear either long skirts or shorts to their knees and to make sure their shoulders were covered. Really, not much to ask, except when the weather makes it so that you’d rather be wearing a tanktop and running shorts. Still, the kids were game– I know they were hot, but I didn’t here anyone protest as they put on cardigans before entering the mosque.

We started our day at seven thirty, meeting for breakfast in the hotel’s dining room, and then were checked out and ready to leave by 8:15. We had a couple girls who somehow missed their alarm, and so had to throw everything together very quickly, but they were efficient and didn’t cost us any time, although I know it made them a little flustered and anxious.* Loading all our luggage onto the bus in the middle of morning rush hour traffic was an exciting experience, and I suspect we’ll have to unload in a similar manner when we arrive in Sevilla; our hotel is in the city center again, and I very much doubt that the bus will be able to park right in front.

Once we got on the road, we started south through La Mancha. (Yes, as in “Man of….”) After about an hour, we stopped to see the windmills which inspired Miguel de Cervantes to have Don Quixote attack the giants-slash-windmills in his book. There are eleven windmills up on a prominent hill, stretched out in a line surrounding a Moorish castle. The windmills are from the eleventh century, and the castle is much older. It’s very odd to realize that something as innocuous as a windmill is seven hundred years older than your country of origin. We stretched our legs a bit, took some photographs, and jumped back on the bus for another three hours.

Don Quixote’s windmills.

After a quick lunch at a rest stop, we arrived in Cordoba.** Cordoba was built in the second century BCE by the Romans on the banks of the rio Sevilla, and it’s still possible to see the evidence of their occupation in the form of a long stone bridge stretching over the river’s shallows. But the city is mostly known for one thing: its mosque. (Or cathedral, depending on how you choose to understand the site.)

The original mosque was built in the ninth century CE under Umayyad rule, and is famous for its columns and striped archways. (I actually show pictures of the mosque when I teach about the expansion of the early Islamic empires, so I’m thrilled to have photos of my own I can use now.) According to our guide, Lola– who was amazing, actually– the mosque initially had one thousand and thirteen columns in the central space, all leading to the alcove where the imam would read from the Qu’ran. The columns, however, weren’t new when the mosque was built; they were taken from existing Roman temples. However, following the Reconquista– the process of removing Muslim and Jewish influences from Spain which occurred between the late 1200s and 1492 CE– Catholic leaders in Cordoba sought permission to destroy part of the mosque in order to build a cathedral in the same location. So the middle of the mosque was removed, and a cathedral in the style of the Italian Renaissance was built in the center of the complex. It’s a beautiful church, it’s true– but it is sort of painful to think that something so totally unique had to be partially destroyed in order for it to be built. Today, the space still functions as a Catholic Church, although I believe there are some legal proceedings regarding the right of Muslims to use the space for religious practice as well.

Mosque at Cordoba.

Honestly, this might have been my favorite place we’ve visited thus far. It’s one thing to teach about a place; it’s something entirely different to physically experience the space.

So! After some sedate wandering through the maze-like streets of Cordoba (sedate, because it was closing in on 100 degrees), we wandered back to the bus, and drove the remaining one and a half to Sevilla. We’re now all comfortable in our air-conditioned rooms, and I think a lot of us are watching the Spain-Netherlands World Cup game, in order to fit in with everyone else in this country.

Narrow, maze-like streets in Cordoba.

Sadly, I think Spain might be a little depressed as a country tomorrow.

—
* Also, for those interested– our students’ whose bags were stolen in Barcelona now have their replacement passports. Luckily for us, the U.S. embassy in Madrid was able to process them quickly, so we don’t have to worry about having them sent to us in our last few days in Spain.

** There should be an accent on the first syllable of that. It’s pronounced “COR-do-ba.”

So cultured.

I’m not sure if you know this, but people in Spain like soccer. Like, a lot. There’s a giant screen showing the game in the plaza just outside our hotel here in Madrid, and lots of people have gathered at the sidewalk cafes to eat dinner (they eat late here in Spain) and watch the opening game between Brazil and Croatia.* Hopefully, it won’t be too loud outside, and we’ll all be able to get a good night’s sleep before we head out to Seville.

Today was our one full day in Madrid, and we packed as much of the city into our day as we possibly could– so the kids are tired tonight, but I think they’re pleased, too. We started the day off with a bus tour of the city– we visited the bullfighting stadium, the stadium for Real Madrid, the memorial to Miguel de Cervantes (the writer of “Don Quixote”), and the royal palace.

La Corrida in Madrid– the bullfighting stadium.

I wasn’t sure how the royal palace would stand up to Versailles, but I have to say, I honestly enjoyed our tour of the Spanish royal palace far more than I did the French equivalent. Not that Versailles wasn’t amazing– it certainly was! But the Palacio Real still had its furniture and was far, far less crowded, which made it a lot more pleasant to tour. Additionally, it’s still a working palace, which means that there are still ceremonies and state dinners held in the rooms we visited. Actually, there was a lot of action going on in the hallways while we were there– and we wondered how much of that had to do with the abdication of Juan Carlos I and the coronation of his son, Felipe. If I remember correctly, the abdication will officially take place in ten days, and I imagine that they’ll need to have the palace in tip-top shape by that time for ceremonial purposes.

Following our tour of the royal palace, we walked a few blocks for lunch, and then took the kids to the Plaza del Sol for a few hours of free time. They hunted down souvenirs and gelato, and tried to stay out of the sun as much as possible– it was brutal this afternoon. Once we met back up at four thirty, we wandered down to El Prado, the premier art museum in Spain. The Prado has an incredible collection of European religious art, as well as masterworks by Velazquez, El Greco, Goya, Bosch, Titian, and visiting pieces by Reubens. Personally, I’m a great fan of El Greco and Goya, so I wound up wandering through the gallery with some students, and we talked about some of the symbolism and techniques in the major works.**

While I was extremely happy to see some of the works on display– Goya’s “May Third” has long been one of my favorites– I also loved watching some of the art students on fellowship at the museum working on copies of the masterworks. Many of them had headphones on so that the crowds didn’t distract them, and they would step back, and tilt their heads, checking the shadows and depth and color, and then step up to their own canvass and try to match the effect. Honestly, I could have watched one young man paint all day, it was that cool to see.

After the Prado, we let the kids loose for dinner. Some of the students had to hurry and gulp something down, because eleven of us left at 8:30 to go and see a flamenco show. I’d seen one before, but that was years ago and in a different country– and I have to say, this one was far, far superior. It was absolutely mesmerizing. The music was excellent, but I was most captivated by the emotion and intensity of the dancers. When we came outside after the end of the show, one of our kids looked over at a friend and said, “I feel like that was a good life decision,” and I definitely agree with her.

Flamenco performance in Madrid.

An excellent end to an excellent day.

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* I don’t have a dog in this fight since I don’t follow the game. I just acknowledge that many people seem to enjoy it, for reasons I don’t fully grasp.

** My high school Spanish teacher would be extremely pleased by how much I remember about Velazquez’ “Las Meninas” and his treatment of little people in portraiture.

Tilting at windmills.

Lo siento for the lack of an update yesterday; we needed to pack up before we left the hotel this morning, so I’m afraid I was a bit too busy to write anything up last night.

At present, we’re driving the last leg of an eight hour journey to Madrid. If you’ve never been to Spain before, I think maybe the best way to describe the scenery is to say that it’s a cross between southern Colorado and northern California– it’s dry and hilly, and there are grey clouds massing over the peaks in the distance, like something out of an El Greco painting. (Which isn’t surprising, given that we’re driving through the painter’s stomping grounds today.) Ms. Hopp and Ms. Johnson have been happily taking pictures of the giant wind farms we pass at the top of the hills, thinking of all that sustainable energy. For my part, I’ve been thinking of Cervantes and his knight errant, Don Quixote.

Yesterday was our last day in Barcelona, and I think I can speak for everyone when I say that while Paris was lovely, Barcelona was much more laid-back and relaxed– muy tranquilo. We started Tuesday off with a bus tour of the city, which was excellent– our guide, Marina, was extremely personable and enthusiastic about her work. Sadly, the kids were sleepy, and she had such a lovely voice that I think some of our kids may have dozed off at points during her discussion. Still, they woke up just fine when we had a chance to stop at Parque Guell, one of Antoni Gaudi’s masterpieces.

If you’re not familiar with Gaudi, I do recommend looking him up– he’s one of the most unusual and influential architects of the early twentieth century. He’s part of the Art Nouveau movement, and emphasizes fluid lines and integration of natural elements into his designs, as well as incorporating a number of traditionally Spanish decorative forms, like tile work and plaster.

Underpass at Parque Guell.

Parque Guell was designed to be a model town for the bourgeoise who wanted to escape the smoke and smog of the newly-industrial Barcelona of the 1910s. It was to have a central square, a market place, schools, and room for sixty houses, all of which Gaudi would design. Ultimately, however, Gaudi only built the square, market, and two of the houses. However, one can still get a feel for Guadi’s overall plan based just on those few buildings– it feels playful and imaginative, almost like walking through a fairytale. Our tour guide was absolutely right when she said that other architects make you catch your breath, but that Gaudi makes you smile.

Columns descending from the plaza to the market area of Parque Guell.

After visiting Parque Guell, we got back on our bus and drove into the city proper to take a look at Gaudi’s on-going masterpiece, La Sagrada Familia. La Sagrada Familia isn’t the only cathedral in Barcelona, but it certainly is the most recognizable. The form of the cathedral is really like nothing else I’ve ever seen– the four existing towers reminded me of sandcastles made of wet sand, the sort that drip down the sides of the castle like melting lead. Ultimately, the plan is for La Sagrada Familia to have seventeen towers total– twelve for the apostles, four for the evangelists, and one central tower dwarfing them all which would represent Christ. But considering that the cathedral has been under construction since the 1880s (with a break between 1936 – 1950 due to the Civil War and Franco’s consolidation of power), it’s unlikely that any of us will see the finish product anytime soon. Marina told us that the target date for the end of construction would be 2026, but she seemed doubtful about that.*

Kids in front of la Sagrada Familia in Barcelona.

We didn’t get to go inside the cathedral itself– the line was extremely long and it’s not exactly cheap to do– we made our way to the high point of the city, near the stadium for the 1992 Olympic Games. We had a gorgeous view of the city, rolling down the hills in a crescent shape towards the Mediterranean. On our drive back down, we nearly left Juanito, our EF tour guide– he had to run down the hill to catch up with us. Once we were back down by the coast, we said goodbye to Marina and had lunch at a buffet.

Following lunch, our group divided roughly into half– those who wanted to go tour the Barcelona soccer stadium, and those who wanted free time in Las Ramblas. Our soccer-crazy kids went with Mr. Auld, Ms. Rankenburg, and Mr. Stephenson, while Ms. Johnson, Ms. Hopp, Ms. Wong, I, and the rest of the kids broke off into small groups to see what they could see. Some went shopping (are we surprised? no.), some found a quiet place in a park to sit and people watch, some walked up to get better pictures of the Gaudi houses, and some– or rather, I– found a quiet cafe and ordered churros and chocolate and sat and read a book and watched the world go by. All in all, a pleasant afternoon.

Once we met up with the soccer-mad group, we let the kids disperse to find something to eat for dinner. While waiting for the everyone to reconvene, Ms. Johnson, Ms. Hopp, and I heard a loud noise, like a shot, and nearly jumped out of our skin. It was a flare gun being shot by a group of protesters marching sedately down the street, shouting, “Cataluyna escucha! Estamos en la lucha!” Their banner was in catalan, but some judicious googling leads me to believe that they were protesting EU economic reforms which resulted in a significant number of Spaniards losing their preferred shares in banks.** There were maybe fifty or sixty people involved in the protest, and they had police accompaniment as they marched. Some of our kids saw the protest and some didn’t, but it was pretty fascinating to watch.

Protest in Barcelona.

After dinner, we took the Metro (it is called that in Barcelona, apparently) back out to the hotel so the kids could pack up in anticipation of today.

This morning was not without its problems, however; we had an unpleasant incident right as we were waiting to board the bus. Two students had their bookbags stolen– we think the thief blended into the chaos of our group and another tour group trying to leave, and just walked off with them. As bad as that was, it was even more problematic because their passports and wallets were in their bags. So. The good news is that we were headed to Madrid, and the consulate is here. Juanito has already completed the police report and insurance report, and Mr. Auld will be taking the students to the consulate first thing in the morning, and then will meet back up with us once everything is taken care of. It’s an awful thing to have happened, but the kids are safe and healthy, and we have the resources to take care of any problems that might pop up. (Just to calm any possible nerves out there– if we haven’t called you, your student wasn’t affected.)

After working through the drama of the morning, we stopped for lunch and a short bit of free time in Zaragosa, which had one of the prettiest churches I’ve ever seen. It’s definitely a Catholic Church, but there’s a very, very strong influence of Islamic architecture in its style. Inside were paintings by Goya (not the food company, the guy who did paintings during the Napoleonic wars), and Velazquez (“Las Meninas”).

And that pretty much takes us to the present! We’re not far from Madrid, now, so tomorrow we’ll have a brand new city to explore.
—
* The kids gravely informed me that they would be almost thirty by that time, as though it were two steps from the grave. Made me feel a little bit ancient.

** Maybe. I teach world history, not economics, so I might be totally off base. But they were definitely upset at the banks.

Bon dia, Barcelona!

Ah, Spain. A place were I can read a menu and interact with strangers again. Except not really, because catalan is widely spoken here instead of castellano (what most Americans think of as Spanish). Catalan is a regional language that’s sort of a combination of French and Spanish. Thus, the greeting in the title. Still, most people here speak at least some castellano, so for our Spanish-speaking students today was a time to test their skills.

Separatist flag and sign in Barcelona.

We began by catching a train into the city– again, we’re in the suburbs– and wandering down Las Ramblas, a broad boulevard of shops and markets and side streets full of venders. The streets were unusually quiet this morning, because today was the celebration of Pentacost, which meant that nearly everything was closed for a holiday. The streets were therefore far less crowded than they might usually be, which allowed us to enjoy the mazes of tiny side streets and plazas.

Some of us visited Barcelona’s Catedral Gotica (not the same as the Sagrada Familia; we’ll see that tomorrow), which I thought was very beautiful. Some students and I were discussing the differences in the architectural styles between this cathedral and Notre Dame, and we decided that while Notre Dame is enormous and imposing, the windows and arches give it an unexpectedly airy feel inside. Catedral Gotica, on the other hand, employs a much more ornate style of stone masonry and uses a lot of wrought iron, which makes the space feel heavier and a little more mysterious.

Nave in la Catedral Gotica in Barcelona.

After stopping for water, the restroom, and the use of an ATM machine, we walked to the central park of the city, which was fantastic. At the center of the park is an enormous fountain of marble in several levels, topped by a figure in gold leaf driving a chariot with four golden horses. The water cascades down at least three stories to land in pond with ducks and geese. The kids had about half an hour to explore the area, and then we walked off to lunch. We had lunch as a group today, which meant that the kids would have dinner on their own; given that in Barcelona most people don’t eat dinner until ten or eleven at night, finding a restaurant willing to take us on was going to be challenging. Thus, a group lunch sounded like the best possible solution, ad it really was.

La Cascada in Barcelona.

Following lunch, we caught the subway– hmm, I don’t know if they call it the Metro here or not– down to the marina, and gave the students some time to put their toes in the sand and wade in the Mediterranean. Afterwards, we took the subway back to city hall, and everyone had some free time to explore the area in small groups. Some kids left once we met up again to go on a bicycle tour of the city, which I gather was a lot of fun, and the rest of our group continued their free time in the Ramblas area. Dinner, as I mentioned, was an on-your-own affair, so I can’t speak to what the kids ate. (I think a few tried paella and tapas and other local dishes, and I think some tried for a taste of home by going to Mickey D’s.) But the chaperones ate very, very well in a nice cafe off a main plaza, and this particular chaperon is extremely sad she won’t get a chance to eat there again on this trip.

Once we all reconvened outside of city hall, we caught one more train back to the ‘burbs and our hotel, and went over our itinerary for tomorrow. We’ll be taking a bus tour of Barcelona tomorrow (which is awesome, since Coach Auld’s pedometer says we walked something like twelve miles today), and then seeing some of the works of the famous architect, Gaudi.

Au revoir, France…

Train time! I’m watching the rolling hills of the French countryside rush past the windows as we roll along to Barcelona. It’s gratifying to see that France really does look the way it does in the television coverage of the Tour de France– small villages punctuated by stone churches which are probably older than the United States, patchwork farms, and the odd chateau off in the distance.* Also, the odd nuclear reactor– Ms. Hopp and Ms. Johnson and I just had a very interesting conversation on the French use of nuclear power, prompted by the reactor we could see off in the distance.** And just at the edge of the horizon, I think I see the faint shape of the Pyrenees.

Since we’ll be on the train until eleven tonight, I think I’ve got enough time to catch up on this blog, so. Back to Versailles!

It was in the low eighties on Friday, and a clear blue sunny sky– which was very pleasant when the wind was blowing, but could be quite warm if one stood out in the sun for too long. This meant that exploring the palace gardens was a little sweatier than most of us would have liked. Still, it was beautiful– impeccably manicured, with a long lawn bordered by tree lined avenues parading down to a bronze fountain of Neptune with his hippocampi rising out of the water.*** It was easy to imagine the men and women of the court strolling slowly up and down the grounds in silks and lace during the reign of Louis XIV. It was also distressing to think of how many peasants and craftsmen and artisans must have labored for so long, and for so very little, in order to create an environment of luxury for the first estate.

Neptune and his water horses.

Once inside, we put on our headsets and listened to our guide as she explained the purpose of each room, and the significance of the art. It was very, very crowded, but I think the grandeur and overt display of wealth and power was still evident to the kids, even as they waited to squeeze between sweaty tourists from Japan and Spain and Britain and a good handful of our fellow Americans. Evangeline, our tour guide, provided some really awesome commentary about the things we saw, too– when we were in Marie Antoinette’s bedroom, for example, she explained how the queen of France was expected to give birth in public, in order to make sure there were no questions about the succession! (Granted, she was usually behind a screen, but still. How invasive and uncomfortable that must have been.) We also saw the table on which the Treaty of Versailles from 1919 (the one that ended World War I, and in many ways was responsible for the start of World War II) was signed. That made this history teacher very, very happy. It’s possible I took several pictures.

The hall of mirrors in Versailles.

After our tours, we met back up at the grand gates at the front of the palace, got back on the bus, and rejoined our compatriots back in Paris.

(Unrelated to our story, but Ms. Johnson just spoke to two young ladies in our train car who wanted to know where this train was going. When she said Barcelona, they became very distressed– they’d evidently got onto the wrong train! How awful for them. They’ll have to wait until the next station, and see what they can do from there.)

After picking up Mr. Auld and Ms. Rankenburg’s group, we visited the Pantheon, a replica of the Roman temple which serves as the burial site for many of France’s great writers, philosophers, and other luminaries. We saw the tombs of Jean Jacques Rousseau (political philosopher), Voltaire (satirist, political philosopher), Alexandre Dumas (author of “The Three Musketeers,” etc), Emile Zola (author), Victor Hugo (author of “Les Miserables, etc.), Marie and Pierre Curie (Nobel Prize winning scientists and generally awesome people), and memorials to historical figures like Toussaint L’Overture (leader of the Haitian Revolution). Honestly, the Pantheon was far cooler than any of us had anticipated– I think we would have enjoyed spending several hours there.

Tombs of Victor Hugo, Emile Zola, and Alexandre Dumas.

From the Pantheon we walked to the Luxemburg Gardens, and then to dinner– which was extremely welcome by that point, because we were all definitely tired, hungry, and more than a little footsore. After having eaten a dinner of pot roast, salad, potatoes, and a desert of napoleons, we made our way via the Metro back to the bank of the river Seine for our evening river cruise. We spent an hour on the Seine, cruising slowly under the many bridges that cross it and waving to the people sitting along the banks. The sun doesn’t set until around ten right now, so we were onboard during the sunset, which was absolutely lovely. I think we all got some good pictures.

The Alexander III Bridge at twilight.

After our boat tour, we walked over to the Eiffel Tower for an eleven o’clock appointment, and road the elevators up to the second observation level. The wind was remarkably strong up that high, and the lights of Paris were beautiful. We spent about an hour on the Tower, spotting the various sites we’d visited, and others we’d visit soon, like Sacre Coer and the Arc de Triomphe. It was almost midnight by the time we left, but alas! Our bus had not come as it was supposed to, so we had to wait another half an hour before the bus arrived and we could go home. (Our tour guide, Juanito, was extremely frustrated by the bus problems– he assures us that this shouldn’t happen in Spain.) We finally arrived back at our hotel around 1:45 in the morning– tired, sore, and ready to collapse.

The Eiffel Tower at night.

The next morning (or rather, the same morning, just later…), we got up a couple of hours later than we had planned out of deference to our very late bedtime, and then took the RER and metro into the city to go and visit Sacre Coer and the Montmartre neighborhood. As someone who has seen “Amelie” a huge number of times, I was personally quite excited to go and see the places I’m so familiar with on film. I think I knew on an intellectual level that Montmartre was on a hill, but after climbing two extremely long and extremely steep staircases to reach the church– I can now say that I know it in my bones. And muscles. And lungs. It had also just rained a few minutes before, so it was thick and humid and sticky, so– not too pleasant for climbing a mountain.

Detail of Sacre Coer.

But once we reached the top– ah. A panoramic view of Paris, a beautiful white church with graceful domes, and an artist market. We gave the kids a couple of hours to grab some lunch and explore the area, and I have to say that we probably could have spent three times that much time in Montmartre and not have seen everything. The chaperons and I went to a nice little cafe, where we had a great meal of madame croquets (fried toast with ham and cheese and a fried egg), and then perused the artist market. Given that it was a Saturday, the area was incredibly, incredibly crowded– but the art was worth it. There were some fairly traditional paintings of Paris street scenes, impressionistic views of the Seine, and some pieces which were obviously projects that the artist had completed for love of the work, rather than for its potential monetary value. My favorite of those was a mixed media piece with a grey wash over the canvass and two grey three dimensional snail figures, oozing their way over the granulated surface of the piece. I don’t know where I would have hung something like that, but it was pretty cool.

Street artist in Montmartre.

After lunch and shopping at Montmartre, we took the Metro (again– yesterday we rode the Metro five separate time, and took an average of two trains each time. So we rode something like eleven trains yesterday) and briefly visited the Opera building. Then we walked a few (very hot!) blocks to the museum for Fragonard, a perfumerie. We had a tour of the museum, and learned a little bit about the history of French perfume and tried our hand (nose?) at identifying base scents. The kids were starting to drop by then, however, and the problem was compounded by an unfriendly security guard who didn’t like it when the students tried to sit down on a shady part of the ground in the courtyard outside while we waited for the rest of our group to finish buying any perfumes they liked.**** But we rallied, and made our way to dinner.

Dinner was delicious. A sort of French twist on pizza, we had endless flatbreads with a creamy cheese sprinkled with various toppings– ham, mushrooms, beef– and then, even dessert pizzas! Who knew cheese and chocolate was so delicious in combination?

After dinner, we braced ourselves for another long series of transfers on the Metro before we returned to the hotel, but– miracles of miracles, we were able to jump right on the RER from the nearest Metro station, and so were home by eight in the evening. An excellent thing, because the kids needed to pack up their belongings and get ready for the next segment of our adventure: Barcelona.

This morning, we were up and out of the hotel by eight, and at the Louvre by nine. We only had two hours in the museum– apparently it would take four months of twenty-four hours’ constant touring in order to see everything– but I think everyone enjoyed their visit, even if they only saw 0.0004 of the museum’s collection. I know there were quite a few selfies taken in front of the Mona Lisa, and several students made a point of hunting down Hammurabi’s code and the Venus di Milo. For myself, I decided to focus on the Islamic art collection, which was fantastic– lots of examples of material culture in the form of glassware, enameled metal pieces, and beautiful, beautiful mosaics.

Following our excursion at the Louvre, we trekked back to the St. Michel fountain we saw for the first time on Thursday, and had lunch at a nice little restaurant in the Latin Quarter. Then, we made our way to the train station– we got there with a good hour to wait before the train, which was actually probably a good thing, as it meant that we wouldn’t be frantically dashing for the train with fifty-odd people.

So! That brings us to the present, finally. Tomorrow we’ll begin our exploration of Barcelona, and I really cannot wait.

—
* Fewer guys riding in spandex, however. The Tour doesn’t start until the end of June, sadly, if any of you are cycling fans. Which is probably, like, two of you.

** Did you know that eighty percent of French electricity is generated through nuclear power? And that the French are allowed to recycle their nuclear waste, which is illegal in the US? I didn’t. Ms. Hopp is a fountain of knowledge.

*** Hippocampus in the “horses of the sea” sense. Neptune was not riding behind a chariot pull by parts of the human brain.

**** I noticed that we were a very pleasant smelling group this morning, by the way. I don’t think that was coincidental.

Finally Friday!

Finally, I can provide you guys with an in-depth update– we got back to the hotel early tonight and I have time to write. (Early translates to 8:40 PM, in comparison to last night’s 2:00 AM. But I’m getting ahead of myself.)

I believe I left off with Notre Dame? Yes. Notre Dame. After meeting up with Mr. Stephenson’s group at the statue of St. Michel on Thursday, we all went as a group to the cathedral. The line outside seemed enormously long, but it moved quickly, and soon we were inside. It’s a vast, Gothic space, the vaulted ceiling so high and delicately arched that it seems impossible to have been constructed by anyone without access to modern engineering technology. It was quiet inside, out of deference to the cathedral’s purpose, but I suspect that even if there hadn’t been signs posted, most people would still find themselves hushed by the scale of the place.

I know our students were tired from the previous (same?) day’s travels, but I think they appreciated the history and grandeur of the art and significance of the religious site. Some of our Catholic students also took the opportunity and made observances and lit candles for their friends and family. Unfortunately, we didn’t have the time– and we probably didn’t have the energy, either– to climb to the top of the cathedral. Personally, had I been less exhausted from the trip over, I would have liked to get up closer to the bell towers. I could have lurched about and pretended to be Quasimodo, which would have been extremely awesome.

After touring Notre Dame, we met outside for a photo. It’s a pretty great shot (I’ll add the picture to this entry when I have access to something with a USB port), but it was interrupted by a pigeon-attack induced by some fellow who kept throwing birdseed in front of the place where the kids were posing. He seemed to think that we should pay him for the privilege of having a swarm of red-eyed, head-bobbing birds fly at us; we did not agree. It was an interesting business model, at any rate.

Kids, cathedral, and far too many pigeons.

Following our avian close encounter, we made our way by the metro to dinner, and then caught the metro and RER (the commuter train) back to our hotel in Maisons-Lafitte. We checked everyone into their rooms, and– we crashed. Hard. I don’t remember laying down, to tell the truth. I just remember the alarm clock going off at 6:00 AM and thinking, “I feel so much better,” and at the same time, “I could use another four hours or so.”

But alas, it was not to be, because we had a VERY full day of touring on Friday. Initially, there was a bit of a wait for the bus– which was meant to come for us at eight, but didn’t arrive until nine– which meant we were late picking up our local guide for a driving tour of Paris. Our guide, Evangeline, was pretty great– she had a dry, witty sense of humor, and was able to give us a lot of interesting detail about the city and its sights as we drove along towards the Arc du Triumph. She pointed out the location where the scaffold was constructed in 1792 for the beheading of Louis XIV, the French National Assembly building, various mansions, and the original Louis Vuitton store. We did not stop and peruse the Very Expensive things inside, however. I’m sure this was a disappointment to some of our students.

After circling a rather terrifying round-about, we stopped for a first real view of the Eiffel Tower, and then divided the group up in two: those students who wanted to go see the Palace of Versailles, and those who wanted some free time to navigate Paris with Mr. Auld and Ms. Rankenburg. I went along with the group going to Versailles, so I can’t speak to the adventures of the second group– you’re probably better off checking in with Mr. Auld’s blog to see what happened there.

Versailles is about twelve miles outside of Paris, but traffic was heavy yesterday– in part because of the G-8 (minus 1) summit going on, and in part because there was construction in places. Still, we reached the palace after about forty minutes, and Evangeline talked us through the basic history of the area and gave us our headsets to use during the tour. The headsets were actually pretty cool, although we had some difficulties with them later. Instead of having a pre-recorded description of the various rooms and objects, Evangeline gave us a personal tour and used a microphone which fed directly into our earpieces.

Once we established our meeting location and tour times, we set the kids free to explore and get some lunch in the village, after which we divide again into two groups– one exploring the gardens for an hour first, the other touring the palace.

Annnnd… I’ll need to finish this tomorrow, because I have to pack up tonight. Tomorrow we’re hitting up the Louvre, and then hopping on a super fast train from Paris to Barcelona in Spain! The journey will take about seven hours, so I’ll definitely have some time to write up a little more of our Paris adventures then.

Let them eat cake.

So we’re sitting down to breakfast at the moment– croissants and baguettes and Nutella and some really very decent coffee– and getting ready to head out for the day. We’ll be heading off to take a bus tour of the city in about twenty minutes, after which those of us going to Versailles will head out to pretend we’re living in the court of the Sun King, and those of us not going will head into the city proper to wander about and see some museums.

(I’ll be with the group going to Versailles, so I’ll be chronicling that portion of our trip today. Coach Auld is staying in the city with the rest of the kids, so his blog will have that side of the story.)

After our day’s adventures, we’ll all meet up again for dinner, and then will go on our night cruise on the Seine, and go visit the Eiffel Tower. We’ll be back late, so I may have to recount today’s adventures tomorrow, much like I’m about to do for yesterday’s.

So! Now that the room no longer feels like it’s swaying underneath me, I’ll speak a little to what we did yesterday after arriving at Charles de Gaulle.

Customs was easy, and we met up with our guide, Jean Claude (or Juanito, as he’s asked the kids to call him) after we retrieved our bags from baggage claim. We hiked a ways to the bus, and then headed off to the hotel.

We’re not staying in the city center of Paris– that would be far, far too expensive for us to manage, if more convenient for site-seeing. Instead, we’re in a very nice suburb called Maisons-Lafitte about eleven miles outside the city. The town is known for its horse racing and château, and is really very charming. (I feel like that’s the adjective of choice for quaint French villages, yes?) We took a short driving tour through the neighborhoods, and then arrived at the hotel, dropped off our bags, and then made our way to the RER station in town to travel into Paris for lunch and some free time.

The RER is the commuter rail system which connects the suburbs with the city center, and this is where our adventure with the trains began. While I know many of our students have used MARTA before, not many of them had used such an extensive (or effective!) rail system before, so the first time an express train screamed through the station without stopping, there might have been a few gasps of fright. (The faces were hilarious. Brooke and Sarah Kate’s families– I wish I could have gotten a picture for you. It was awesome.) Still, we managed the trains admirably– and I’ve got to say the kids were utter troopers, given how tired and hungry they all were at that point.

Once we made our way to the city, we stopped in front of the statue of St. Michel just a few blocks from Notre Dame. We gave the kids instructions to stay in the general area, and to return to meet us in two hours, and sent them off for food and shopping and picture taking. The chaperons found a nice quiet cafe which served crepes, and generally relaxed for about the first time in twenty-four hours.

Our tour guide, Juanito, orients the kids around St. Michel’s fountain in the Latin Quarter.

…and now we need to get on the bus to go on our tour, so I’ll have to finish this later!