Returning to Homeostasis; Ola McWake-Me-Up-Mafra

Current Update:

I am home now, alive and finally well. I have consistently lied to you, with the best intentions possible of course, about updating my blog. I thought that with sleep, water and the proper vitamin and drug regimen (which I could not find and/or didn't know how to ask for overseas) I would be better in a day or two but apparently it's taken me a bit longer. Having clear, lucid thoughts is really amazing - all of you that experience this on a regular basis should really try to not take it for granted. Normally my weekend starts Wednesday around 5-6 PM (a hard knock life I live, I know) but this week, since someone watching over me loves me so much, my Wednesday class has been canceled thus starting my weekend 2 hours ago-ish. This gives me roughly three days to fill you in on what I remember of two weeks ago. I am currently using my sleep deprived, caffeine induced memories, photos that I took whilst in the midst of these memories, the itinerary for the week supplied by my professor, and memories from slightly less sleep deprived classmates/friends to fill you in on my travels of the past two weeks. I have been told, repeatedly, by Papa Doc that I need to get these memories down on "paper" as soon as possible and before I continue to recount them time and time again as to preserve their "color."

Update of my scene two weeks ago:

My last blog detailing my scholastic happenings in Portugal ended with me going to sleep Sunday night after an excruciatingly long day filled with meetings, sight seeing, presentations, game-facing it and ultimately passing out face first into my (top) bunk bed - yes I was nice enough to let Ewan, the bigger and older of the two of us, have the bottom bunk.

Monday morning: yes I'm sure yours may have been a bit worse than mine but I was, in theory, supposed to be on vacation. 9 am: Downstairs to the cafe on the street outside the hostel. Laura and Ewan are already up, slightly awake, getting their morning coffee (or espresso as we call it in the States) sitting at a table. I walk up to the counter, being a big dumb American, still asleep and jet lagged, not knowing how to say a thing in Portuguese, and point to a croissant with egg and fried chicken on it under the glass and say, in Spanish mind you, "este, e un cafe, por favor, obrigado!" Assuming, based on the facial expression and body language of the gentleman that I was speaking with, that I've gotten my message across I go outside and sit down. 5 minutes later out comes my espresso and a ham and swiss cheese croissant. I honestly don't care that much right now. Food is food. At later glance, however, I noticed that the ham and cheese croissants were approximately 36 inches from the egg and chicken croissants making it damn near impossible to mistake my pointing through the glass directly down at the sandwich that I wanted for the sandwich I was given. Perhaps the owner wanted to take advantage of the language barrier and get rid of an item that wasn't selling so well - can't say that I blame him.

Time for me to bitch/vent:

After getting on the bus and waiting...and waiting I realized ONCE AGAIN, how slow our group was. At this point in time I'm beginning to feel like I'm herding my sheep up for no reason, BOY WHO CRIED WOLF!! Eventually the stragglers get on the bus and the professor turns to face the back of the bus letting us know the plan:

"We are heading to Mafra, Ericeira Beach and Sintra." If you'll pause here for a moment to take a gander at our original itinerary I promise you will not find this trip scheduled at all, let alone for Monday morning. I found out several days later that Dr. Nielsen needed to change the itinerary last minute due to basic scheduling conflicts (understandable) and decided to give everyone 24 hours email notice of those changes. She did not communicate to anyone verbally these changes once we were in Portugal, nor did she print off some copies of the updated itinerary (what I would've done along with a verbal notification) for anyone who happened to be . . . perhaps a little too busy to be checking email 24 hours before they were supposed to be in Portugal (my frustration with this administration begins.) The interesting part of this is that on the updated itinerary that I have just looked at it says for the entire day (as opposed to broken down into morning, noon and night) "Trip to Mafra, Ericeira and Sintra." I'm not sure what I could've told you about what I was to be doing on Monday even if I had seen the itinerary ahead of time.

End bitch/vent, continue 2 weeks ago update:

Getting out of my sleep deprived, fed up head and back to actual reality: Once we got to Mafra I found out that we visited what I have now researched to be the Mafra National Palace. When inside we took the requisite 15-20 minutes to get started (me bitching again.) In order to not pass out I decided to try to keep myself moving by walking around and stretching out a bit. Not far from the main entrance is a quad, of sorts, containing another sweet Portuguese manicured garden (right.) While taking this (awful) photo Ewan stuck his head out the door and called me letting me know the tour was starting. Me: walking inside, craving a soft pillow, trying to mentally prepare myself for the anguish of Ben Stein telling me all about how great this church was 300 years ago. Doc C. to the class: "Students I'd like for you to meet our tour guide," name I regrettably cannot remember, "she will be showing us around the monastery today." " 'Ello, I 'ope you will excuse my Englis' it is not zee best." In my head: Holy good morning tour guide, I'm awake now! I will certainly excuse anything you want me to excuse! My name is Miles, I'm a scorpio, and I would LOVE to make your acquaintance. If you feel that your English is not up to par, which I can assure you it is, I'm sure we could find a quiet place in this castle of yours to slip away where I could teach you a thing or two about the language. Back to my sad reality again: If you would please follow me, I promise these are the only stairs you will have to climb until the end of our tour.

This tour guide was not only ridiculous cute but she grew on me too. Due to my exhausted state of being I'd have to say that I would be looking up the Mafra National Palace on wikipedia right now in order to give you the run down on it if it were not for our girl, little miss Ola McWake-Me-Up-Mafra.

At the top of the stairs we slipped into a room that jettisoned me strait into Europe. I do not have any physical evidence for you as we were not allowed to take pictures here but the art work on the walls and ceiling were exactly what I think of when I think European Church - I'm not talking Michelangelo's Sistine Chapel but it was pretty serious business. From there we moved into the kitchen for the infirmary of the monastery where, I regret to inform you, I grabbed the best photo I have of Ola McWake-Me-Up-Mafra (Left.) ** After showing us the infirmary McWake-Me-Up gave us the low down on the procedure for dealing with loose stool back in the day. Coming out of most anyone's mouth at this hour, the suggestion that a turkey baster-like-apartatus was the modus operandi of the times for curing diarrhea, would make me an unhappy camper to say the least. This coming out of her mouth, however, simply ruined the only thing I had keeping me awake: her on a pedestal. Her, now, current status: getting knocked from the mushroom top with a giant q-tip, American Gladiators style and falling fast. My, now, current status, after choking the spew back down: return to a comatose zombie-like state.

A few rooms later something she says catches Professor Machado's attention: "You hear that Miles?" No, I'm sorry, I'm afraid I missed it. What was that? "Zee Royal Function!" It turns out that we had left the monastery and moved into the palace section of the Mafra National Palace.

I am going to tell you about what I heard in the next five minutes not because it would normally be an appropriate topic of conversation but because I heard it in a MUSEUM while on an ACADEMIC trip. Therefore, it must be appropriate, no?

Back to "Zee Royal Function": In order to give stabilization to Portugal and continue the legacy of the royal family the King was forced to choose his cousin as a Queen (don't ask me why, apparently this is what needed to happen.) Not so surprisingly they ended up hating each other (I think we should all take a lesson from this: don't marry for country) and as a result the King built quarters at complete opposite ends of the Palace for each of them, connected by a long hallway (approx. 200 m.) In the center of this hallway was a big room with a "king" sized bed in the middle and huge doors on either side. A special robe was made for the King with a single hole, where appropriate (kinda loses the human element if you ask me.) For the queen a "night gown made of silk," according to our tour guide, was made. "When you say 'night gown' you mean lingerie, right?" I asked. Captivating eyes darting towards me coupled with a gorgeous smile: "Yes, zee lingerie." As it turns out there was a huge ceremony in the palace before the two cousins were about to get down with the get down. The King's servants would walk him down the hall to the "champagne room," as I like to think of it, and likewise with the Queen. Before entering the King would have a servant "serve" him in order to get him ready for "zee royal function" - this was his cousin after all. (I blame him for marrying his cousin but I don't blame him for not being able to get things adequately prepared for the royal function knowing that he was going to perform it with his cousin.) After he was physically ready the servants would leave and the two would attempt to make babies (interlude music kicks in.) Ola McWake-Me-Up explained that while they were trying to make babies the entire sexual crew was outside the doors listening in, at which point Professor Machado asked aloud in the group, "how do you say this in English? Performance anxiety?" "I believe that's stage fright," I chime in.

I'm glad to report that eventually the King and Queen produced a prince for the country. You won't find this in the history books but word is this prince was born with a small nub of a tail and a third ear protruding from the inside of his right ankle - true story.

Some of the other less notable sights we saw in the palace were the game room (right) the trophy room and the Library. The game room was surprisingly up to date I thought. Jokes aside, this room had a snooker table (the one in the foreground) a billiards table (the one in the background) a foosball-like table (bottom right) which you cannot see and an older version of Bob Barker's Plinko game from The Price is Right. I tried to convince Ola McWake-Me-Up to play me in a game of foosball to no avail.

We moved from the old school/modern day game room to the creepiest room yet - the trophy room (left.) Here there were a hundred+ taxidermied animals from birds to boars to the Portuguese version of the deer (no idea what specie it actually is.) This room, I was told by little miss Mafra, was a "recent" addition to the palace, being built in the early 19th century. Apparently after the King died the kids turned into spoiled, rich, old-school versions of Billy Madison and decided it would be cool to just party and go out and shoot animals all day. They turned 12,000 acres surrounding the Palace into hunting grounds and this room into the trophy room. Yay materialism! Fortunately my generation can't take all the blame now.

To bring our tour to an end we come to the library (right.) This place was massive and as soon as we walked in the doors, like many other rooms in the palace, there was a velvet rope not allowing anyone to go but 10' into the room. Being that we had the finest most gorgeous tour guide Mafra National Palace has ever seen we got to go pull the old velvet ropes up and take a step inside. The Library is broken up into the three major sections of the time, religion at one end (far end), science at the other (foreground) and the liberal arts in the middle (the two wings in the middle to the right and left) bridging the gap.

After the Library Miss Mafra regrettably informed us that the tour was over and led us to back to the entrance. After thanking everyone for coming she asked to speak with me privately. Grabbing me forcefully by the hand, "come wiss me," leading me up the two flights of stairs we had originally gone up to start the tour but not stopping there. Up two more flights of stairs and the ceiling was going from 15 ft down to a mere 8ish and the stairwell more narrow - more fit for servants rather than royalty, I assume. Before climbing one more flight she reached behind a big wooden door that was chained open for museum tours and grabbed an old metal key. I followed her up the last flight of stairs where I could no longer stand upright because the ceiling was so low. From the small dingy window at the end of the landing the perfectly manicured quad could be seen from a birds-eye view. Looking up and to the right giant bells, of which this palace had 91, were in plain view. Putting the key into the old wooden door that I probably could've blown down like I was the big, bad wolf she opened it up to three enormous bells. She grabbed my hand and yanked me away from the window into the fresh, open-air room, slamming the door behind us. She immediately turned to her right, where three ropes came down the walls out of pulleys dangling from the ceiling coiling perfectly onto the floor. In one smooth calculated movement she glanced at her watch, without skipping a beat pulled each rope successively making its respective bell ring out on in perfect sync with the other 88 bells. The clanging of the bells was both overwhelming and euphoric as she threw herself in ecstasy at - "MILES! Miles wake up! Get off the stairs and wake up! The bus is leaving they're all waiting for you! Professor Nielsen is pissed, c'mon!" "Wait! Ms. Mafra! . . . Bells!"

Back to the bus. Back to reality. Like a sheep being herded somewhere I haven't been informed of. To do something that I haven't been informed of. I'm not a Lemming, a Cerf, a Pawn or a Peon god damn it - I have feelings too!!

**Note to self, video camera's take good video and extremely poor still shots. Digital camera's take good still shots and extremely poor video - invest in a digital camera.

Sleep First - Details Ensue.

I am sitting on my couch in my basement in Baltimore. I have been awake now for 36 hours. I left the Catwalk club in Barcelona at 3:30 am and went back to the hostel to pick up my bags and check out and went strait to the airport. After arriving at the Barcelona airport around 4:30 am I traveled for 18 strait hours. Tomorrow morning I am going to wake up early, rested and ready to give you the run down on the trip from the very beginning. I must also say the litany of ridiculousness that occurred in my life in the past 72 hours is very noteworthy - this will not disappoint, I promise.

I'll be up and at 'em tomorrow for sure. 'Til then,

Miles.

P.S. I just read over what I wrote above again to make sure it had a decent flow (as it's taken me 30 minutes to write it - yes I am exhausted and cannot focus.) It is not in any way good but it'll have to do for the time being. When I was trying to think of a title I put my head back on the couch to think and I instantly fell asleep for about 15 minutes - thus we have our title.

Lagos Beaches are Ridiculous

I feel that there are two ways to experience culture. The first is by doing what I did last week: seeing the history of a country by visiting churches, castle's etc. Or you can do what I am doing this week: go out and party with the people and experience what the people are actually like now. I am glad that I experienced Portugal last week but I am extremely excited for this week.

Yesterday we made our way down to Lagos by bus from Lisbon. Due to the fact that we are staying in a hostel called The Rising Cock which is basically a frat house I don't know how many details I can reveal about our trip. The gentlemen grabbed some dinner at a restaurant right next door while I updated the blog last night. While at dinner they met a group of kids from the States who are studying abroad in Seville, Spain. Being good people they showed us around the city a bit. That's probably about the extent of what I can make public about the shenanigans that ensued last night/this morning.

This morning I woke up and came into the kitchen where mama (the mom of the hostel) was making crepes and lemon tea - a little nutella spread on top, simply delicious. After breakfast we made our way to the beach. This beach is the most gorgeous beach that I've ever been to. The red rock cliffs break up the beach to create lagoons, amazing caves and many secluded areas. If there was a special lady in my life this is definitely where I'd take her for a lovely sunset beach picnic.

We walked through the paths on the cliffs and stumbled across a beach in front a resort with gorgeous topless women, cliffs to jump off of and a small cafe built into the side of one of the cliffs. Definitely agreed this was the place to stop. We found ourselves a spot next to some fine ladies and I pulled out the guitar to give a little serenade to the beach dwellers. Before long a girl came up and asked if I was part of the Seville trip. I found out that she was really just trying to get to my guitar but I'll take it nonetheless.

Around lunchtime - apparently this is 4:30ish here - we went over to the cafe and got some grubables. This is now the best meal that I have had here. I ordered grilled tuna with potatoes and salad - simple? yes, but glorious. The walk back would bring us to the point where I am now sitting on the couch in the hostel, blogging, watching Beerfest eating a mango, drinking a beer.

If I didn't have class to attend there would be a VERY good chance that you would never see me again. Lagos is amazing. If I was playing by the rules right now I would be about to walk into my Corporate Finance class. I just spoke with a friend on facebook who is about to go into class. I sent her the picture to your right. I've had a lot of fun and seen a lot of stuff up until now but this place ridiculous. A million thanks to everyone who has contributed to my journey thus far I could not have done it without out you - OBRIGADO!! Munk is cooking up a spaghetti feast right now so I gotta run but I'll hopefully have some good stories for you tomorrow. From Lagos with Love,

Mi.

The Crew Arrives

Yesterday the crew rolled into Lisbon. I can’t tell you how heavily I rely on technology in the states and how drastically it changes my life when I can no longer rely on it. The lack of planning on our part made it so we were staying in two different hostels last night. J. Whoadie, Koci and Munk in The Oasis Backpackers Hostel in Bairro Alto and me in The Living Lounge Hostel in Baixo. I got an email from Munk early Saturday morning when they got in to the airport saying that they would be at their hostel at noon and to come meet them. I made it their hostel at about 12:30 and they were gone but the girl at the front desk said they were looking for me and told me where she recommended they go to get food. When I got there they were no where to be found so I came back to the hostel and worked on a blog for a while before I got hungry myself so I went back there and got a bite.

For a moment I need to stop and ask that when you are out to eat or in public in general that you not turn your head and stare when you see someone from another country. I also ask that you not try to take pictures of them of them incognito. It was so bad yesterday that I felt I needed to write about it but the entire trip I have felt like a zoo exhibit and yes several times I have been doing nothing of note and have been photographed by locals or other European travelers.

The food was not terribly noteworthy but the view and drinks were delicious. The hills in Lisbon are absolutely ridiculous and you hate them when you’re walking but they gave the Noo Bai Café one of the best views that I have ever seen while dining out. In the middle of my meal while I was sipping on vodka lemonade a couple next to me got a big carafe of what looked like a white sangria. I asked my server what it was and he told me that it was a sparkling wine sangria and I immediately jumped on the offer - when the language barrier is as impenetrable as fort knox and the service is as about as fast molasses in January getting a litre of a delicious drink is a much better call than the 8 oz. standard of Portugal.

While at the café I sent an email to Munk letting him know that I’d be at the No Bai Café right next to the Oasis and to come meet me whenever he gets back. An hour or so later I got an email telling me that they were on the top deck of the Café and to come meet them if I was still at the café. Fortunately I was and 3 hours after I had planned to meet up with them I finally did.

We ordered another carafe of sangria and while waiting for their food to arrive and they filled me in on the details of their journey and events of the previous weekend (My good friend Ern’s birthday was last Saturday and I let him have a party at my place while I was out of town – as I thought it might be, it was a bad idea.) Munk mentioned that he had spoken with a guy on the bus that told him the Portugal vs. Hungary World Cup qualifying match was that evening and 80,000 people were going to be there. We all agreed that was definitely the best plan for the evening and quickly figured out the best way to get ourselves some tickets – fortunately our waiter spoke better English than many people I know in the States.

After lunch we went back to their hostel so they could shower up. While waiting I played some cards and drank some beers with a Spanish girl, Rossio. If you think that explaining a complicated card game is difficult in English then try explaining it in Spanish. I wouldn’t know whether it’s difficult or not because Munk did the talking since he’s fluent. I was definitely very impressed though. Around 6 o’clock everyone was finally ready and we made out way over to my hostel so I could check in and grab a shower as well. A few more beers and some directions to the stadium later we were on the metro on our way to Colegio do Cuidade where Portugal plays futbol. The line for tickets was easily a quarter of a mile long when we got there, we actually contemplated going to a bar nearby and watching the game there but thought better of the idea. Fortunately when we finally found the end of the line there was a guy at the end selling tickets for 20 euro (5 euro cheaper than we were told we would get them for) and after making sure they were real we bought them and were on our way into the stadium.

When we got to our section we went to a concession stand and ordered quatro cerveja. The woman could tell that I was from the US and she said to me in impeccably perfect English “the beers have no alcohol in them.” You’re joking right? No, you can no longer sell alcohol in the stadiums in Portugal, people drink too much before they come in so they need to sober up here so they don’t get into fights. So we’re at the game an hour early, half-buzzing, me working off 4 hours of sleep, the crew working off of zero sleep in the past 36 hours and we can’t leave the game and come back. I don’t mean to give the impression that I can’t have fun without drinking. The match was awesome and I’d do it again in a second. But for me to have a buzz going, trying to not fall asleep, trying to get pumped for the game stealing my only form of artificial energy (read: booze) completely took the wind out my sails. At half time when the score was 1-0 Portugal we were struggling to stay awake. The crowd was not too into it because there wasn’t much action going on and our lack of rest was catching up to us. We struggled through the next 20-25 minutes and then Portugal scored another goal and the stadium went nuts and we were right back in it - the 8 shots of espresso that I bought us didn’t hurt the matter too much, I’m sure.

After the game we made our way out of the stadium finally and decided it would be a better idea to grab a bite to eat and let the metro calm down before we made our way back downtown. Next door to the stadium is the biggest, most luxurious mall that I have ever been in. We found a Brazilian restaurant and got a delicious meal of rice, beans, steak, french fries (what they call chips), salad, fried bananas and a Brazilian rum drink all for right around 6 euro. This would have been a ridiculous deal anywhere but in a mall that was this expensive I was very impressed. We must have been too exhausted and hungry to notice before our meal but mid meal it became increasingly difficult to chew as my jaw was on the floor due the plethora of hands down the most gorgeous women that I have ever seen concentrated in one place on earth. I learned three important things at dinner last night: 1.) God is great and (s)he loves me. 2.) The woman I marry will be Portuguese, and as a far more insignificant tertiary lesson 3.) Brazilian food is off the hook.

After the game we stopped by my hostel so I could freshen up, then went to the fellas hostel to party with some of the kids there but apparently there is no partying after 1 am in the hostel so Bairro Alto it was. Bairro Alto is a section of Lisbon that is closed off to car traffic and a bunch of kids my age party in the streets. We quickly realized how awesome this place was when we ordered 4 shots of Absinth and the total was 4 euro – needless to say I offered to pay for that round. A few bars later we found a club called the Groove Bar and stepped inside. It was about 2 am at this point and we were starting to feel a little better than we were at the game – Munk and Koce were chatting up a Portuguese guy some of his friends (getting advice on how to talk to Portuguese women) Jared I were dancing sitting down in our barstools.

An undeterminable time later I introduced the gentleman to the B52. Shortly after Munk introduced Koce to the statue of Liberty – dip your thumb in a shot of absinth, light it on fire holding it up like the statue of Liberty’s torch, take the shot and then blow out your thumb on fire. Despite the fact that Munk has done this before he dipped his thumb too far into the shot so the more sensitive skin got burned. He now has a blister and has been bitching about it since.

At one point in the night I came out of a bar to find Munk talking to some girls who I later found out were from the Canary Islands. He was speaking to them in Spanish as their English was bad and he’s fluent. I found out two things from the next 15 minutes: 1.) My Spanish is significantly worse than I thought; and 2.) Girls from the Canary Islands are gorgeous.

At 3 am Bairro Alto closes down so we went, with the Canaries, over to a club across town. When we got to the front of the line to get into the club Jared was not allowed in because he had mesh shorts on. I would like to take this time to point your attention to a quote from my wall on Facebook. Jared asked on my wall on facebook if they would allow him into the club with a pair of high top shoes that he wears often. My friend Monica responded to it by saying: “Yes they will.. Trust me when I say wear whatever you want =)” Jared responded to the bouncer by calling me out and asking if they were going to let me in wearing cut off khaki shorts and flip flops – nice guy he is. They did let me in and Jared and Justin left. Fortunately the Canaries stayed with us. 10 minutes later I look over to see Koce making out/dancing with one of Canaries. My Spanish was getting much worse as the night went out as was the girls English that I was talking to. We were trying to talk the whole night (5 am at this point so I guess we could call it morning) but there was very little actual communication going on. At 6 am when the club closed we grabbed a cab and headed home. We dropped the girls at their hostel and a little bit down the road I got out to walk to my hostel 5 minutes down the street and Koce took the cab to his hostel. At noon I was woken up by the maid asking me in Portuguese if I could please get up so she could make my bed for the next guest that was to be staying there. Rude awakening.

Plans for the Week (Sorry I lied.)

I need to start this off by letting you know how impossible I've found trying to catch up with the entire week of blogs that I didn't post and to apologize for continuing to lie every time I post telling you that next time I will definitely have them up. I think I will have to just do a few at a time instead of letting you know about my entire week all at once. I am going to meet up with Koce, Munk and J. Whoadie at the Oasis hostel down the street but I thought that I'd update you on our plans for the week.

This evening we will be staying in Lisbon so that the other gentleman can check out the city. Tomorrow morning we will be heading down to Lagos for 3 nights. While there we will be staying at a regionally famous party hostel called The Rising Cock. Tuesday morning we will be catching a bus from Lagos back to Lisbon and taking a flight over to Barcelona where we will get in close to midnight. In Barcelona we'll be staying in a hostel called the Kabul Backpacker's Hostel - I've heard excellent things.

As I've done before I would love to hear any stories of your travels in Barcelona. Do you have any recommendations? Places to go? Friends I should drop by and see? I have a guide book that a classmate left behind for me but those are quite the tourist destinations. I look forward to hearing from you all. I need to scoot over to the Oasis now but I will check in to my room for the evening at 2 pm Portugal time and post about my evening last night and finally post about last Sunday (this is a good one for sure - stay tuned.) 'Til then,

Miles.

Word searches, Ninja turtles and B52's

I am just about to head down to the bus station with a girl I met last night, Mel, from Australia, so I don't have too much time here. We're catching a bus from Porto down to Lisbon together since we're both staying at the same hostel down there today.

I promise and swear to all that is swearable to that I will post pictures and videos when I get down to Lisbon. The schedule that I have been on the last week has been the most insanely go, go, go schedule I may have ever had. Most days I would be up at 8 and get back and have a "free night" starting around midnight (I suppose freedom really isn't free?) I am now on my own schedule (even slept in 'til 9 today!!) and will be able to do what I'm best at - philosophizing, pontificating, shooting the proverbial breeze, and telling you what I'm up to.

Yesterday while at the Yellow House hostel in Porto I walked into the kitchen with my laptop to get a better wifi signal and a group of Australian girls were sitting around the table drinking beers and shooting the breeze. I grabbed a drink and my guitar and sat down with them. A few hours later we were going downtown Porto for drinks where the kids from Universedade do Porto were out and about in their traditional academic dress. Apparently they are just starting their school year because it was "freshman introduction week" so there was plenty of crazy drinking games and such. My favorite had to be the girls who ran up to our table with a word search put it down and in a frenzy grabbed all of us and presumably asked us to help her. The word search was finished in under 2 minutes between the 5 or 6 of us and just as fast as she had come she was gone. I didn't recognize any of the words that we found and I don't believe that she recognized at any point that none of us spoke any Portuguese.

My second favorite was most likely the girls dressed as the Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles. This wouldn't have been so hilarious if other people were dressed up in costumes but the only other dress out of the ordinary were some of the hats that the freshman had to wear and the traditional academic dress that the seniors were wearing. The only English they seemed to speak was the names of the turtles. Their costumes were pretty bad and the weapons that they were carrying didn't match up with the weapons that each respective turtle carried in the cartoon. Classic.

I also tried a proper B52 last night (good call Mo.) I'm not sure if it's the same in the States but here it is coffee liqueur, whiskey (I think?) and then mint liqueur layered. The mint liqueur, being on top, is lit on fire and you put a straw in the bottom and suck until you get to the fire. It's pretty cool because the shot goes from cold to hot at the end and you don't even drink any fire!! I need to scoot off to the bus now but I'll definitely update you all on the past week in 4 or 5 hours when I get settled in Lisbon. 'Til then,

Miles.

Joao to the Rescue

One of the most ridiculous strings of technological breakdowns I've ever had in my life:

My computer is dead because my US/Europe electric current converter blew a fuse because the laptop needed more power than the converter could supply. I didn't realize this until I borrow my roommate Ewan's converter and blew that fuse too. I didn't have an internet connection so I activated my BlackBerry which comes with a European plug as well and it is now having difficulty holding a charge. It's also turning off randomly and often so last night when I wanted to call a cab I borrowed my classmate Laura's phone. After I got off of the phone the signal went dead and in place of the signal bars the phone read "SOS" - it is still reading SOS. Before giving up on technology last night I was attempting to start my computer up with the little juice it had left so that I could put my paper (which was due Tuesday night) onto my thumb drive and work on it on one of the computers in the computer lab in the dorm where we were staying. After 30 minutes of searching for the thumb drive, which I had the night before in Lisbon, I decided to just try to connect to the wifi in the computer lab and email the paper to myself. I figured out very quickly that you need to be a student at Universedade do Minho in order to use the wifi. Today while I was on the bus I was attempting to post this very blog from my BlackBerry. After 30 or so minutes of typing I had what was damn close to a finished product but I wanted to go through and check the post once more for any errors before I uploaded it and we were at our destination and needed to get off the bus so I put my phone in my pocket and got off. When I got inside I pulled my phone out to finish up real quick and it was in the midst of restarting. Once it booted back up the post had been erased.

The paper that I'm writing is on globalization. In the paper I have been arguing that the social, political and economical playing field of the world is flattening drastically and we are becoming more interconnected despite vast geographical differences. If I submitted my paper on Tuesday I would have definitely stayed with this position. After experiencing a complete inability to stay connected to the world this past week I may have to re-evaluate some of the statements in the paper, however.

Right now I am sitting in a cafe connected to Casa da Musica of Porto in the square of Boavista. The driver of our coach bus that has been driving us around this week, Joao (read: the man), was nice enough to walk with me over to the mall nearby and get converter - not before visiting three different stores to get it. So I'm knocking on wood as hard as I can right now but I think I feel comfortable saying that I am up and running. I have to leave right now to check into my hostel in Porto but once there I will update you on all of the happenings of the week. Talk to you in a few hours.

Meelosh.

Computer Issues

If you´ve been following along here you are probably pretty disappointed at my lack of posting since I got to Portugal. The first few days were crazy here so I had little time to post. Since then I have taken tons of pictures and video. I am writing to you from a computer lab at Universidade do Minho in Braga, Portugal where I just got out of a lecture where the class was observing Professor Machado and a guest speaker give a presentation on doing business in Portugal. I have not posted since Saturday night because my laptop is dead. My laptop requires more power than the US/European electricity current converter that I bought before leaving Baltimore will allow so the fuse on it blew out. I will be getting another converter as soon as possible, which looks like it could be tonight. I am really sorry that about the logistical issues that I´m experiencing over here force me to break a promise to all of the followers and donors. I promise that when I am back up and running that I will post often. This week it has been hard for me to find time to post even if my laptop wasn´t dead. The second week of my trip, which to some may be the more interesting portion to follow, I will be able to post several times a day as I´ll be on my own schedule. I´ll also see if I can´t convince Koce, Munk and J. Whoadie to get some guest posts on here too.

Wish me luck finding a converter - not only do I my laptop to post my blogs here but I also have a paper that was due Tuesday evening that I have not had access to to send it. Hopefully my professor will understand. ´Til next time, folks.

Meelosh

Fado House, Mr Jose Lucio, First Team Meeting, Sight Seeing, Sergio Fonseco

I meant to post last night but I had been up with my "game face" on from 9 am-midnight working off of 3 hours of sleep. I am feeling a bit more rested today but I woke up late and only have about 40 minutes before I have to be on the bus - believe it or not when I sit down to write a good blog I generally give myself about an hour to an hour and a half.

The last I spoke with you I was about to head out to dinner to a Fado house to meet Mr. Jose Lucio. This restaurant was a small hole in the wall in a remote corner of Lisbon. When our group of 12 walked in there was definitely a record scratch and the dull roar of the people fell silent. Because most places we've been so far have been touristy we haven't stuck out so bad. The people eating at this restaurant were not expecting tourist, however.

We ordered some wine and as it goes in Portugal the people we were meeting (Mr. Lucio and Professor Machado) were the standard 30 - 45 minutes late. This is never a problem because the wine, bread, cheese, olives and prosciutto (this is the Italian name I have yet to figure out the Portuguese name for it) are abundant before every meal. I think the only meal that I haven't had wine with yet was my breakfast yesterday.

Finally, Mr. Lucio arrived, we ordered dinner and more wine and a few moments later the lights went out and two guitarists – one with a traditional Portuguese guitar from Coimbra, Portugal and another with a standard classical Spanish guitar – come out and sit next to me and begin to play. One of the cooks takes notice, removes her apron and comes down to sing. The video of them is below. Despite the fact that I was sitting right next to them the audio is pretty bad and since there were only two lights on in the whole place – both of them red light bulbs – the video is horrendous at best but you can still hear the audio a bit.

Throughout the night the Fado players would come out and play between two and four songs at a time. The cook and another guy, who I presume was there just to sing, would take turns singing. Sometimes only the guy would come out and sing a play by himself, sometimes the crowd would sing and everyone seemed to know when to sing and when to clap and when to shut up and listen. The following video is the guy singing and playing by himself. His singing did not take over the entire house like the woman’s did but I feel that he was far and away the most captivating between his guitar and singing.

As the night proceeded Mr. Lucio – sitting at the opposite end of the table from me – started to get down pretty heavily on the sauce becoming louder and more animated. His English is not great to start with and everyone knows how that goes once the booze takes over. Later in the night Dr. Nielsen, my professor, mentioned to him that I played guitar. From across the table of 14 people he yells “Miles – you play the guitar?” Yes sir I do. Why does a woman hate you" me having had a bottle or two of wine by now too: I’m not sure, you should ask my ex-girlfriends! No, how you tell? A woman hate you, how you tell? I’m not sure. Mr. Lucio sitting next to his wife: You take the guitar, you hit the woman on the head with the guitar. If the woman die, she no your enemy. The woman live she your enemy. Apparently Jose likes scotch, jokes and not women.

Towards the end of the evening some people had already gone home, and some were outside drinking and smoking cigarettes. As the table was only about half full now I moved down to sit next to Jose and have a drink and shoot the breeze. At this point in time he was pretty. . .not sober I guess you could say? He was trying to explain how he is an open man and he says what is in his heart – in significantly worse English now. He went on to explain that he can know everything about you after knowing you for 5 minutes so he proceeded to move around the table psychoanalyzing everyone in his path. I only had the thought to take out my camera and record him speaking to the last person – a very conservative, reserved and soft spoken Chinese girl, Tiffany. (I must apologize for the length of the video and my sloppy camera work. When I attempted to cut it down the editing software that I have made the file significantly larger so I just put the whole thing in there.)

I was the third or fourth person whose soul he peered into. “Oh, this man, he is easy. This man plays the guitar, he is a musician, he has a very open heart. He takes the pretty woman, he plays her music, he tells her how he loves her, his heart is open to her. He is the musician, this man. He has a very open heart.”

Towards the 1 am hour many people had gone home and I had just ordered a vodka tonic and Jose another Dewar’s on the rocks and we were talking about going out to see some Fado and have a few more when Dr. Neilsen came in and said that they were all leaving and that I should come with. I was pretty not happy about it but I figured it would be a bad time to mention my distaste for her slave driving as I was a few sheets to the wind.

After saying goodbye to Jose and thanking him for the conversation I went back to the hostel with the others. A few of us were not yet tired so we decided to go out and check out the town. After trekking up ridiculous hills - I would've never guessed in a million years that this place would be worse than San Fransisco on the hill tip - we decided on a bar on the outskirts of Bairo Alto, a section of Lisbon. We got some drinks and hung out and shot the breeze for a while.

Right behind my seat there was a bronze statue of a man in a top hat sitting in a chair. I don't know who this character was but the wear (or lack of tarnish) on his arm and lap indicated to me that he has probably made it into many a tourist's “My trip to Lisbon” photo albums. We were talking when I heard east coast English being spoken behind me. I turned around and two girls were taking a photo with the statue and I asked if they were from the States. They said yes, that they were studying abroad for a semester in Seville and came over to Lisbon for the weekend for shits and giggles. One was from Connecticut and the other New Jersey. We said that we went to the University of Baltimore and they ran off to get their friend who was studying abroad from Towson (a school 10 minutes north of Baltimore (if you’re not familiar.) We talked for a while before getting kicked out for closing time - small world.

Once we were home Laura and I were both wide awake still (as it was 11 PM back in the States) so we decided to have another one of the infamous 99 cent bottles of wine. I grabbed a guitar off the wall of the hostel, played a few tunes and we talked for a while. Before I knew it 2 am turned into 5 am and that 8 am wake up call was looking pretty dismal at that point in time.

Sunday Morning: Up and At 'Em

I grab a shower, some light breakfast and jump on the bus to head to Carlos Machado’s apartment. I'm not quite sure how I'm alive right now. Professor Nielsen was pretty adamant about everyone being on time. I made it to the bus early off 3 hours of sleep and yet someone in the group still held us up by 15 minutes or so. Today we were to have a team meeting to talk about the business agenda for the week. We needed to discuss the case so that we might all get on the same page. This way when Jose showed up we were not asking questions that had been answered in our reading material and we were not repeating each others questions. The conference center at Carlos’ apartment complex was a penthouse style room with all window walls overlooking Lisbon and the Tejo River – not the worst business meeting venue in the world.

When Mr. Lucio showed up he had a sudden health problem walking in to the door. As Carlos described it the top of his stomach expanded outward by 4 inches or so as if he was instantly pregnant. He was in a lot of pain and had to go to the hospital. We are all hoping and praying for the best as Mr. Lucio alluded to the fact that he had some health problems to Dr. Nielsen and would like to get the project rolling as quick as possible.

Needless to say, our meeting with Jose was canceled so we got some lunch and did some sight seeing on the Tejo instead. Machado went out to get lunch and he brought back Pizza Hut, a salad that Isabella made and french fries from McDonalds, and of course, wine. I thought America was bad with the fries but they have them with most meals here. Also, I'm not a fan of Pizza Hut in the States but I would take it any day of the week over Pizza Hut in Portugal - not so good meal number 5 of 5 for the trip.

The Sights:

When we down at the Tejo we had "free time" to see the sights for a few hours. Laura, Ewan and I went to check out the Belem Tower (left.) The tower was constructed to commemorate Vasco da Gama's mission - it is the first landmark you see when coming into Lisbon by sea. When they wanted 4,50 euro just to walk up to the top of it we decided against. I feel there are much better things that I could do with $7. Next to the the Belem Tower is the civil war memorial (right.) Behind the wall there are the names of all of the fallen soldier's similar to the Vietnam Memorial in DC. In front of the war memorial there are two booths where a Portuguese soldier stands in a military stance, staring forward all day like those British guardsman. I was very tempted to have my picture take but I was exhausted and thought better of the idea. We needed to make our way down to the Monument of the Discoveries to meet the tour bus but were struggling pretty hard so we stopped along the way for a cafe com leite - Monica said that I was going to drink a lot of espresso when I was in Portugal and I didn't believe her because I don't in the States. My god was she right. The Padrao dos Descombrimentos (left) - monument to the discoveries - is a monument erected to celebrate the age of discovery. Essentially Portugal erected it after Ferdinand Magellan circumnavigated the globe.

All of these sights were great but my personal favorite was the remote controlled sailboats (right.) I watched them race for a few minutes not terribly interested until one guy pulled his boat out of the water to make some adjustments to it. The entire time I had been assuming these boats had little motors that propelled them. When he the boat out it looked like a real sailboat on the bottom, with a keel and rudder. It turns out the remote only controls the rudder and trims the sails. I was amazed at how agile these little things were. Perhaps I'll get myself one for the winter when I can't sail the hobie.

The Meeting with Sergio (left):

Ya gotta love that I was asked to dress in business attire at 8 am so that I could wear it sight seeing all day simply for this meeting tonight and this is how Mr. Sergio Fonseca was dressed the entire time - Reebok's, warm up/workout pants, and a black tee. None of it matching and definitely not business attire.

Being day number three without sleep people were absolutely miserable there - several people were nodding off including one kid who decided to take a full on nap, sitting in his stool, during the presentation. A girl who seemed to be on top of her game (always being in the know, always near the Professor's side, conservative, stick to the rules type) who doesn't drink, thus not going out after hours, getting a requisite amount of sleep was even nodding out. Professor Nielsen had to squeeze her leg several times in order to bring her back to reality. I , personally, have never felt so incredibly drained and horrible while still having to keep my game face on. At one point in time I stepped outside, sat on some steps and took my pulse to make sure it still existed. - while here I even got to hear my first Portuguese family dinner fight (Sergio lives in an apartment complex.) Though I had no idea what they were saying it instantaneously brought me back to my childhood. Not that these fights were frequent but let's be honest, when was the last time you were involved in a fight at dinner? I'd have to say it's been a good decade for me.

Sergio is a friend of Jose's and the link Jose has to the ethnomusicology program at Universidade do Minho. He was having the class over to his home and workshop (in the same apt. complex) to tour his collection of guitars, play some fado music for us and to cook us an authentic Portuguese dinner. Though I was only half with it, Sergio reminded me of an only child whose parents have lots of money only he's never allowed to have friends over and thus has little social contact. When a friend is finally allowed over the kid is going a million miles an hour showing off all of his toys while his friend doesn't get so much as a chance to breathe. That or he's really into his guitars and had just done a LOT of cocaine. I'm going to go with the former. He has over 200 guitars from all around the world several of which he created himself.

After telling us all about the guitars and taking us on a tour of his music room we finally got to eat dinner around 11 PM. Professor Machado (read: my hero) was nice enough to bring a case of wine - if it were not for the wine I would have fallen asleep in my plate of food. I did not catch the name of the dish but it looked a lot like a gumbo served atop rice. It was reddish brown, from the kidney beans I assume, and had sausage, chicken, some sort of green vegetable (looks like a green bell pepper but it isn't) and onions in it. There must have been a combination of Portuguese herbs and spices in it because the flavor was like nothing that I've ever tasted and I have absolutely no idea how to describe it to you other than delicious.

After dinner and a few glasses of wine I was right back in it and played a few songs on the guitar with Sergio's daughter, Ana - she has an amazing voice. Thirty or so minutes later the real show began - Sergio and a friend of his played us a few traditional Fado songs along with some other, more entertaining, tunes. Originally it was to be Sergio and Jose but needless to say Jose could not make it out. Since you've already heard traditional Fado music I decided to post the video of Sergio and his friend playing a traditional Portuguese song and Stairway to Heaven medley - significantly better.

Around midnight our bus driver had to get home so we had to go as well. I passed out for a little on the bus ride back. When I got into the hostel I checked up on some NFL action online, saw that the skins eeked out another victory and hit the sack. I got my first "normal" nights sleep in a while - five and half hours.

First Day in Lisbon

Quite an interesting first day here. It is currently 5:45 PM here and the last time I slept it was 7 am on October 2nd back in the States. I am so exhausted I cannot even wrap my head around how long that is between the 5 hour time difference.

Before take-off in Philly I was having a few drinks with my classmates and one suggested we pay up since it was 7:45 and our flight departed at 8:30. We walked around the corner to them closing the gates because our flight was early - really glad Ewan (the guy I'm rooming with the entire trip) decided that it was time to leave the bar. The flight wasn't terrible considering it was 7 hours. The in-flight movie was State of Play. A modern day D.C. political suspense/thriller - a very good movie. I tried to have a glass or two of wine on the flight in order to properly "medicate" myself so I could sleep but when I realized that wasn't happening I drank a few cups of coffee and got some work done.

**I must say that I cannot recall a more euphoric time in my entire life as when we were coming down through the clouds as the sun was peering over Spain shining its purple/orange rays on the Portuguese coastline and I had "Dazen Miles" by Pressing Strings pumping on my BlackBerry in my ear.**

On a good note the weather here is perfect. It's a bit humid but it's in the upper 70's. Hopefully it will cool down a bit at night because there is no air conditioning in the hostel, let alone in Europe from what I hear. On a not so good note, this group is an INCREDIBLY slow moving group. We landed in Lisbon at 8:00 am local time (a bit early) and didn't leave the airport until nearly 10:00 am. At the airport we were greeted by Professor Carlos Machado (who I've come to find out is the absolute man) who had a luxury coach bus waiting for us. Before we left I got a sim card for the phone that Monica was so nice to donate to me. Thanks Mo, and thanks for the 10 Euros for the sim card Natasha (Monica's Sister)!! - my number for this phone is 91 39 58557. Yes I have no clue how to call that number from home but if you get a calling card I'd imagine it would tell you. I do not believe it includes the country code.

After leaving the airport we took a quick tour through the city first stopping a a monument overlooking a sweet mall like thing covered with awesomely manicured bushes (left.) Professor Machado had us guess what this monument represented for quite some time. Being a 24 year old guy a few things popped into my head but I quickly realized that this was a professional setting. He went on to explain that in '74 the Carnation Revolution led to the toppling of the authoritarian dictatorship in Portugal. This was a military coup, though Machado said that the uprising began with the youth. If I took a cross-sectional photo (which I unfortunately did not) you could see it looks like a statue that has been toppled over. The monument is a water fountain but had been turned off for the season - I guess 75 degrees is cold here? He told us to imagine it like it would be in the summer - with water spraying out of the top of the main point in the middle. I really wanted to speak up at this point but thought there could be no way. Finally he told us that the Portuguese felt oppressed by the dictator in many ways one of which was sexual oppression. He explained, in good but broken English that this was to represent a phallus during orgasm - the youth bursting out of oppression if you will. I feel like I could extend this metaphor further but it would not be terribly appropriate for this venue. I think we all know that this would never fly in the States and I personally think that we really need to reconsider our sexual modesty in this country.

From here we toured Lisbon by bus for a bit before stopping smack in the center of downtown at the Rossio Square. The square has been the site of many revolts, celebrations, bullfights, and executions in the past and now has the statue of King Pedro IV (left) in the Center, the National Theater on the northern end, and a sweet fountain (right) on the south end. This also happened to be where our hostel - The Rossio Hostel - was located. At this point it was 11 am and once we got our things upstairs the hostel told us that with the exception of my and Ewan's room that everyone's room would be ready at 2pm - our room was available now. Miles/Ewan (1) - Rest of Class (0).

After putting our things in the room and getting settled for a minute we made our way down to a cafe right outside the hostel to wait for everyone. As prescribed by dear friend Monica I ordered a pastry and an espresso (top right - very delicious). Behind me I took notice of a woman selling something from what seemed to be a hot dog stand (left - smelled awful.) I asked Professor Machado what she was selling and he told me roasted chestnuts. She was constantly sprinkling cane sugar on them and stoking the wood fire beneath that cone there. When I came down to take a picture (I couldn't resist- thanks Nat King Cole.) I must have looked like a tourist because this hunchbacked gentleman (bottom right) - to be henceforth known as The Hunchback of Coke Mountain - hobbled over to me and gave me what I can now only assume is the international symbol for cocaine (putting a finger on one nostril and sniffing with the other) while at the same time asking me if I'd like some coke. This man had the worst cocaine nostril that I have EVER seen - the inside of his nose was basically dripping out of his nostril. Apparently the never get high on your own supply rule that applies in the States doesn't apply here in Portugal. I politely declined but he didn't seem to be having any of that so he proceeded to ask about hash and then pot. When I declined again he said that it wasn't a big deal and that everyone in Portugal smokes. At this point in time I was now sitting back at my table with a few classmates and the two professors. I politely declined again suggesting that I was going to stick to my espresso and he went away.

I now realized again how ridiculously slow this group I am with was moving. Ewan and I had to check in, take our things up to the room, unpack them and we even sat down for a minute or two. The others had to take their luggage to the luggage room. We had been at the cafe for 30 minutes before they came down from putting their luggage in the luggage room. What they were doing I don't have any clue. Professor Machado along with his wife Isabella led us on a stroll through town. I cannot stress how amazed I was by the level of American popular culture that has entirely infiltrated Lisbon. There are many American stores, everyone is wearing clothing with English on it, there is American music playing in the stores and everyone can speak English. If you haven't realized the declining political and economic influence the U.S. has on the world you might want to take a look at that. In my eyes, however, our social influence on the developed and developing world is only growing.

While walking around Lisbon we came across the building (left) where the declaration was made that King Manuel II had been deposed, establishing the Portuguese First Republic. Monday marks the 99th anniversary of this declaration. The building doesn't normally have the red tapestries hanging from its facade - they were only there to commemorate the holiday. I suggested to Prof. Machado, who I can tell at this point likes to indulge in the finer things in life, that we should skip our trip to Mafra and Ericiera Beach on Monday so we could truly experience the Portuguese culture by partying in the streets with everyone. He said it's not a holiday that people really celebrate like that. I suppose its due to the fact that the Portuguese First Republic oppressed the people for the next 64 years but that's just a guess.

Eventually we made our way down to the river and over to Cafe Martinho da Arcada for lunch where Fernando Pessoa, a famous Portuguese poet would sit and have coffee and write his poetry. Today they still have a table where he would sit with a shot of espresso and a shot of his favorite liqueur on it. Carlos and Isabella happen to know the owner of the restaurant so we got special service - free Port desert wine and an English server. I was incredibly hungry and asked Isabella who was sitting next to me what "Porc scallops grilled Lisbonese style" (the menu was in Portuguese but had English translations beneath each item.) She tried to described what it was to me but her English is pretty broken so I said why not I may as well try it - I love scallops afterall. Everyone else's meal came out in a very extravagant fashion being presented to the table, dished out of the container it was cooked in onto their plate at the head of the table and then walked over and served to them. I was the last to be served, my grilled pork chops and french fries came out not in an extravagant fashion - strait from the kitchen already plated. I asked Isabella where the scallops were she said that is just a way of cutting the meat - very thin, almost like butterflying it. Despite the fact that I was absolutely exhausted I still had what I consider to be a very logical thought process in thinking this was not a pork dish. I recognized many of the dishes on the menu that were pork chops and beneath their Portuguese names the English word used for them was pork with a "K." My dish was the only one that spelled it with a "C" so I assumed it was something different. I don't think I need to go into what happens when you assume.

Carlos gave me a hard time asking me how my expensive red wine and french fries were. I was hungry and the pork chop was delicous and very tender nonetheless. I hadn't eaten since linner the day before so after the first of three pork chops filled me up (damn shrinking stomachs.) When it came time to clear the plates I, having 3 hours of sleep in 48 hours or so and not thinking, asked the gentleman if he could kindly wrap the remaining pork chops up for me to take home. The girl across from me instantly got bulging bug eyes and gave me the hand to the throat "stop that" motion and whispered "they don't do that here" at the same time the waiter said "excuse me sir?" I responded with "oh I'm finished, obrigado, it was delicious." I guess they don't have doggy bags in Portugal?

Two, "I'm an uncultured American," moves right in a row - not my style at all, clearly time for a nap. We walked back to the hostel and on the way I was approached by not two but THREE more people asking if I wanted to buy marijuana or hashish. I kindly declined every time. I'm no sure if I look like I do drugs, which I don't, but I was the only person in my group who got them offered by random people in the street whole day - and I was offered them four times in, in a four hour period. I guess I just give off the vibe? Who knows. If I want some coke, hash or pot I know where to go now I suppose.

When we got to the hostel I decided to get some essentials before taking a nap so I asked the receptionist where I could find a grocery store. Fortunately there was one right behind our hostel. Laura Isenberg (there are two Laura's on the trip with us) and I walked around the block to the store and found what we came for - the wine section. I first saw a bottle of red wine for 2,49 Euro (approx $3.25) and was amazed. Then I looked down and saw "red table wine" for ,99 Euro ($1.50). I don't think further explanation is needed on which I purchased. I'm going to take a shower right now and have a $.25 glass of "red table wine" before going out this evening. We will be going to a nice traditional Fado house to meet Mr. Jose Lucio, have dinner and hear Fado for the first time. I'll be sure to get some these Fado players on video and upload that tomorrow evening (late morning your time.)

'Til then,

Miles.

P.S. Good news and bad news. Bad news: Carlos' daughter who was going to take us out tonight decided to go to Venice, Italy for the weekend instead (can't blame her.) Good news: I'm staying in a six person room with Ewan and two cute girls. One girl, Mary from Ireland, has an 8 foot longboard that she will be taking up a bit north to catch some waves and then head back this way. She's going to be in Portugal for 3 weeks and has no agenda for the 2nd two weeks. The other girl I haven't spoken to yet but said hi to when I was in the middle of my nap this afternoon and then passed back out.

P.P.S. I have more pictures than this but they didn't quite fit into the blog so I'll just keep them for a slide show when I get back.

2 Hours from Take-Off

I started this at the Airport yesterday and went to send it and my internet conked out and wouldn't come back. I am currently sitting in my room at the Rossio Hostel in Lisbon. The next post will be about my first day here today.

I am sitting in Philadelphia International Airport right now in the last two hours of my 9 hour layover. Forgive me for not updating this recently but I have been running around like a crazy person trying to get ready for the trip. I was supposed to have a ten page paper written globalization finished this evening and I just got time to start it this morning.

After running errands, doing laundry and packing all day yesterday I finally got to bed around 3 am. I awoke at 7 this morning to tie up the last few odds and ends and grab the light rail from my apartment down to Baltimore/Washington International (BWI.) On my flight from Bmore to Philly I sat next to a very gorgeous, awesome, down to earth girl who I totally hit it off with. Unfortunately, that flight lasted all of 13 minutes and she was headed down to North Carolina right after we got into Philly. Better luck next time, huh?

I spent the day working on my paper and finally finished it up about an hour ago. Afterward I treated myself to a glass of wine and a panini. I am currently waiting for a girl in my class to show up (she got a flight with a normal length layover) so we can go have a few before we get on the plane. We touch down in Portugal at 8:30 am local time (2:30 am eastern time.) I am going to try my best to sleep on the flight