12/7/09
12/1/09
Art: My Own and Others'
In 1755 the great Lisbon earthquake (o Terremoto) was followed by fires and floods. It ravaged the city and made way for the redesign that made Lisbon what it is today. Even if my blog hasn’t exactly been shaken by an earthquake, it’s about to be redesigned—a few of the same lines, but also all sorts of new features: comics, sketches, stories...
This blog is about art. So, though I’ve done a lot of wandering through art museums and wondering about what I’ve seen, I’m writing something more like a guide to the city through a glimpse into some art museums and some of my own art.
Gulbenkian: Since my favorite pastime is drawing (I sketch everywhere: on the metro, in the bus, at home, at cafés, while waiting for cello lessons, while standing in line for the bathroom, etc.) I’ll introduce you to my wandering through the Gulbenkian a little differently. The story that follows is fictional (any likeness to actual people, intended); but all the pieces are favorites from my trip to the museum (except for the rugs; I thought it was necessary to include them).
Museu da Marioneta: The puppet museum, which you might not expect to find in an old convent and which you can get to only by climbing an endless narrow winding street. As you walk through a labyrinth of rooms, you first find puppets from Asia, such as weird dragon creatures, porcelain princesses, water puppets (puppets that run around in water), and intimidating shadow puppets. You wind your way through clans of puppets from Europe, Africa, Brazil, then modern Portugal. I saw grotesque figures of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, clay TV puppets for cartoons, and puppets with creepy button eyessssssssss... I returned to the Museu da Marioneta last Sunday for a finger puppet work shop, during which I created a stage, sets, my mom, my dad, my sister Katarina, my brother Isaac, my guinea pig Blue, and a princess, as princesses always come in handy in puppet shows.
Museu Bordalo Pinheiro: This museum is about a guy named, surprise surprise, Bordalo Pinheiro. He did lots of caricatures featuring a character he created called ZÊ POVINHO (JOE PEOPLE). Zé is this guy who doesn’t like to do a lot of work, but will if he’s pushed (kind of like me). He’s often pictured with a saddle—since he represents the people, he’s ridden and stepped on a lot (kind of like me in the metro at rush hour). 
Though his caricatures were most interesting to me, Bordalo Pinheiro also made beautiful porcelain pieces covered in figures, animals, mermaids and fish. He did make some early bobble heads out of clay. He gave me some ideas about how to get away with being critical in a comic sort of way. He was quite the caricature—I mean character.
Museu do Azulejos: Azulejos are a HUGE Portugese thing, like Fado. Azulejos are glazed tiles. There are Azulejos with blue sketches, Azulejos with geometrical designs, Azulejos that stick out like reliefs, Azulejos that are inlaid, and Azulejos that are painted like canvases. This museum shows all the different processes for making them (corda seca, etc.) and displays centuries of tiles. I recognized the birds and rabbits that I’d seen on the Azulejos at the Fábrica dos Pasteis de Belem. There is one impressive scene picturing a doctor sticking a gigantic syringe into a boy’s bottom. I think the boy must have died of blood loss, if he didn’t die of fright at the sight of that needle. Some of my favorites: modern big-eyed owls you can see in the metro and an ancient azulejo with a lion in relief.
This blog is about art. So, though I’ve done a lot of wandering through art museums and wondering about what I’ve seen, I’m writing something more like a guide to the city through a glimpse into some art museums and some of my own art.
Gulbenkian: Since my favorite pastime is drawing (I sketch everywhere: on the metro, in the bus, at home, at cafés, while waiting for cello lessons, while standing in line for the bathroom, etc.) I’ll introduce you to my wandering through the Gulbenkian a little differently. The story that follows is fictional (any likeness to actual people, intended); but all the pieces are favorites from my trip to the museum (except for the rugs; I thought it was necessary to include them).
Museu da Marioneta: The puppet museum, which you might not expect to find in an old convent and which you can get to only by climbing an endless narrow winding street. As you walk through a labyrinth of rooms, you first find puppets from Asia, such as weird dragon creatures, porcelain princesses, water puppets (puppets that run around in water), and intimidating shadow puppets. You wind your way through clans of puppets from Europe, Africa, Brazil, then modern Portugal. I saw grotesque figures of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza, clay TV puppets for cartoons, and puppets with creepy button eyessssssssss... I returned to the Museu da Marioneta last Sunday for a finger puppet work shop, during which I created a stage, sets, my mom, my dad, my sister Katarina, my brother Isaac, my guinea pig Blue, and a princess, as princesses always come in handy in puppet shows.
Museu Bordalo Pinheiro: This museum is about a guy named, surprise surprise, Bordalo Pinheiro. He did lots of caricatures featuring a character he created called ZÊ POVINHO (JOE PEOPLE). Zé is this guy who doesn’t like to do a lot of work, but will if he’s pushed (kind of like me). He’s often pictured with a saddle—since he represents the people, he’s ridden and stepped on a lot (kind of like me in the metro at rush hour). 
Though his caricatures were most interesting to me, Bordalo Pinheiro also made beautiful porcelain pieces covered in figures, animals, mermaids and fish. He did make some early bobble heads out of clay. He gave me some ideas about how to get away with being critical in a comic sort of way. He was quite the caricature—I mean character.
Museu do Azulejos: Azulejos are a HUGE Portugese thing, like Fado. Azulejos are glazed tiles. There are Azulejos with blue sketches, Azulejos with geometrical designs, Azulejos that stick out like reliefs, Azulejos that are inlaid, and Azulejos that are painted like canvases. This museum shows all the different processes for making them (corda seca, etc.) and displays centuries of tiles. I recognized the birds and rabbits that I’d seen on the Azulejos at the Fábrica dos Pasteis de Belem. There is one impressive scene picturing a doctor sticking a gigantic syringe into a boy’s bottom. I think the boy must have died of blood loss, if he didn’t die of fright at the sight of that needle. Some of my favorites: modern big-eyed owls you can see in the metro and an ancient azulejo with a lion in relief.
11/20/09
My Mostly Ghostly Birthday
Since this blog is about the birthday party I had (a couple weeks ago now—I’m a little behind in my blog posts), I’m going to arrange things a little differently. I’m going to compare a Portuguese birthday party with an American one.
Differences: At Portuguese parties, kids do not play “pin the tail on the donkey” or the variations of that game that our family has come up with (pin the lips on the girl..., pin the tooth on the t-rex). There are lots of cakes and endless plates of pastries and candy, instead of only one cake. There are not only a few friends, but aunts and uncles and cousins and friends of the parents of birthday kid.
Okay. That said, I will now get to my wandering and wonderings, arriving eventually back at birthdays, or rather, my birthday party.
Wandering: On Friday (which you may have guessed by now is a day we generally spend wandering) between my birthday and birthday party, we walked through the old market at the Cais da Ribeira—lots of fresh fish, one was displayed belly-up with guts spilling out. When my Dad asked the fishmonger why this view, she answered “mais bonito” (more pretty) and flipped the fish over to show us that the top side (its face) was far uglier than any of the guts. It was, in fact, so terribly ugly I doubt that any other fish would so much as think that it was a living, healthy fish! I’ve since seen an uglier sight: a fish being gutted at the Carnide peixaria for my dinner!
That day we headed uphill from the market, but on the Elevador da Bica (not on foot), and eventually walked to the Miradouro de Santa Catarina (an overlook not named after my sister). Looking down at the roofs below, I made an interesting sighting. Of course, there was the normal garbage that you find lying around—boxes, plastic bags, bottles, maybe an old shoe or sock. But if you have to know what I found right away, you can look ahead to “something interesting to end up with.”
Wondering: “Just recalling my birthday...” said Sophia with a content, daydreamy look. (I would just start in talking about it, but without this introduction, it would belong to a different category than “wondering”.) “My story,” continued Sophia, the author of this blog, “starts late at night, October 27th. I couldn’t sleep and stayed up past midnight, just wondering...”
The morning of my 11th birthday started with molasses on French toast (because the strawberry syrup we found made its way, by accident, with a little help from Isaac, into the freezer, and it was rock hard. The French toast was yummy, though. I spent the day at home and around the neighborhood (which I like to do, despite all my writing about wandering). That night, we had our first mac-n-cheese (which I’ve REALLY missed eating). We had gingersnaps hot from the oven and a little chocolate pão de ló (cake) that we picked up at Três Cereais (Three Cereals—the place around the corner where we buy hot bread in the mornings). I’d had a couple sneak previews, but then we opened most of my presents—books in English (needed some), a hooded sweater, orange leather gloves, fashion paper dolls, a design-your-own-outfit set, bendaroos, a Mariza CD, the Kimi doll I’ve had my eye on! I had a lot of fun.
Now for an extra category!
My Birthday Party: I had a Halloween party, as I usually do, except that they don’t have Halloween here (except in stores like Toys-R-Us, where we saw plenty of ghoulish costumes, witches, and the spider webs we used to cover our windows). We hung balloons and bats, skeletons and spiders. I invited my guests to dress up. We had a witch, a remarkable nose (which reminded me of Obelix), two princesses, and one small wizard. Among other things, I introduced my friends to a party game which, you will find in “differences,” they do not play here. This is “pin-the-ingredient-in-the-cauldron” (eyeballs, fish bones, frogs, lips, lizards...). We also played “mummify-the-adults-in-toilet-paper,” with Kati as the judge on best mummy and mummifier (I’ve discovered a new talent). Then we had chocolate cake, lemon bars, cookies and snacks, and, last of all, we trick-or-treated (but only down a dark hallway).
Something interesting to end up with: I spotted, on someone’s roof, the latest murder in Lisbon—a large plastic doll missing both of its arms. A mystery...
Differences: At Portuguese parties, kids do not play “pin the tail on the donkey” or the variations of that game that our family has come up with (pin the lips on the girl..., pin the tooth on the t-rex). There are lots of cakes and endless plates of pastries and candy, instead of only one cake. There are not only a few friends, but aunts and uncles and cousins and friends of the parents of birthday kid.
Okay. That said, I will now get to my wandering and wonderings, arriving eventually back at birthdays, or rather, my birthday party.
Wandering: On Friday (which you may have guessed by now is a day we generally spend wandering) between my birthday and birthday party, we walked through the old market at the Cais da Ribeira—lots of fresh fish, one was displayed belly-up with guts spilling out. When my Dad asked the fishmonger why this view, she answered “mais bonito” (more pretty) and flipped the fish over to show us that the top side (its face) was far uglier than any of the guts. It was, in fact, so terribly ugly I doubt that any other fish would so much as think that it was a living, healthy fish! I’ve since seen an uglier sight: a fish being gutted at the Carnide peixaria for my dinner!
That day we headed uphill from the market, but on the Elevador da Bica (not on foot), and eventually walked to the Miradouro de Santa Catarina (an overlook not named after my sister). Looking down at the roofs below, I made an interesting sighting. Of course, there was the normal garbage that you find lying around—boxes, plastic bags, bottles, maybe an old shoe or sock. But if you have to know what I found right away, you can look ahead to “something interesting to end up with.”Wondering: “Just recalling my birthday...” said Sophia with a content, daydreamy look. (I would just start in talking about it, but without this introduction, it would belong to a different category than “wondering”.) “My story,” continued Sophia, the author of this blog, “starts late at night, October 27th. I couldn’t sleep and stayed up past midnight, just wondering...”
The morning of my 11th birthday started with molasses on French toast (because the strawberry syrup we found made its way, by accident, with a little help from Isaac, into the freezer, and it was rock hard. The French toast was yummy, though. I spent the day at home and around the neighborhood (which I like to do, despite all my writing about wandering). That night, we had our first mac-n-cheese (which I’ve REALLY missed eating). We had gingersnaps hot from the oven and a little chocolate pão de ló (cake) that we picked up at Três Cereais (Three Cereals—the place around the corner where we buy hot bread in the mornings). I’d had a couple sneak previews, but then we opened most of my presents—books in English (needed some), a hooded sweater, orange leather gloves, fashion paper dolls, a design-your-own-outfit set, bendaroos, a Mariza CD, the Kimi doll I’ve had my eye on! I had a lot of fun.
Now for an extra category!
My Birthday Party: I had a Halloween party, as I usually do, except that they don’t have Halloween here (except in stores like Toys-R-Us, where we saw plenty of ghoulish costumes, witches, and the spider webs we used to cover our windows). We hung balloons and bats, skeletons and spiders. I invited my guests to dress up. We had a witch, a remarkable nose (which reminded me of Obelix), two princesses, and one small wizard. Among other things, I introduced my friends to a party game which, you will find in “differences,” they do not play here. This is “pin-the-ingredient-in-the-cauldron” (eyeballs, fish bones, frogs, lips, lizards...). We also played “mummify-the-adults-in-toilet-paper,” with Kati as the judge on best mummy and mummifier (I’ve discovered a new talent). Then we had chocolate cake, lemon bars, cookies and snacks, and, last of all, we trick-or-treated (but only down a dark hallway).
Something interesting to end up with: I spotted, on someone’s roof, the latest murder in Lisbon—a large plastic doll missing both of its arms. A mystery...
10/25/09
Fado
Wandering:
Fado is one of the big things in Portugal. Amália is the biggest thing in Fado. So, last Friday I took two metros to the Santa Apolônia Train Station, then hiked over thousands of cobblestones (as usual) along the River and into the Alfama, so by the time I arrived at the Museu do Fado, my feet were pretty sore. Anyway, the Fado museum: You have to have earphones there to actually hear the Fado. What is an entire museum devoted to singing...without sound? And Fado has its own sound. Fado is a kind of Portuguese folk song, usually a little sad, about the sea or city or seagulls or longing that the Portuguese call “saudades,” sung by a fadista (who can be a man or woman) accompanied by a regular guitar, a Portuguese guitar, and sometimes a bass guitar. Fado also has its own look. The museum has a wall with photographs of old fadistas and another wall with photos of modern fado singers. Each has earphone numbers, so you can hear them sing. My favorites? Well, of the newer ones—a singer named Mariza. Of the older fadistas—Amalia, of course! Some other interesting things in the museum are Portuguese guitars with twelve strings, old records, movies with soundtracks to listen to on your earphones, and a clay model of a street in the Alfama.
Fado is one of the big things in Portugal. Amália is the biggest thing in Fado. So, last Friday I took two metros to the Santa Apolônia Train Station, then hiked over thousands of cobblestones (as usual) along the River and into the Alfama, so by the time I arrived at the Museu do Fado, my feet were pretty sore. Anyway, the Fado museum: You have to have earphones there to actually hear the Fado. What is an entire museum devoted to singing...without sound? And Fado has its own sound. Fado is a kind of Portuguese folk song, usually a little sad, about the sea or city or seagulls or longing that the Portuguese call “saudades,” sung by a fadista (who can be a man or woman) accompanied by a regular guitar, a Portuguese guitar, and sometimes a bass guitar. Fado also has its own look. The museum has a wall with photographs of old fadistas and another wall with photos of modern fado singers. Each has earphone numbers, so you can hear them sing. My favorites? Well, of the newer ones—a singer named Mariza. Of the older fadistas—Amalia, of course! Some other interesting things in the museum are Portuguese guitars with twelve strings, old records, movies with soundtracks to listen to on your earphones, and a clay model of a street in the Alfama.
MarizaMore wandering:
I stopped for lunch at a new Fado bar, but in ancient warehouse rooms dug into the hillside, with brick vaulted ceilings and stone walls, a natural well and stream, and secret tunnels that connected the rooms first to the old church of Santo António and then to the headquarters of the secret police (PIDE) during the fascist dictatorship in Portugal. These were once rooms for grain, and then for prisoners like the ones whose families Amália helped out when Salazar (who was the dictator) was putting artists and people who criticized his ideas into prison.
Later, we trudged across the city to Amalia’s birthplace, but you can only stand in the doorway and look down the winding street, all the way to the river.
A follow up:
This Friday, while I was in Belèm, eating more yummy pasteis de Belèm, I happened across another Amália exhibit at the modern art museum: quite a few photographs, recordings of her music, and fantastic dresses. Once she said that she had a different face every minute, and based on the photographs, I think that’s true.
Wondering:
My birthday is just not coming fast enough! Still haven’t gotten sick of fish fry; that’s good. I miss my guinea pig. Ouch, my feet. I wonder how many days until my birthday—nine when I started to write this, but only three now that I’m typing it up. I am also wondering what to write for “something interesting to end up with.”
Something interesting to end up with:
In the fado museum they have a song that one Fado composer wrote when he was six years old. Alain Oulman. He was later imprisoned by Salazar.
I stopped for lunch at a new Fado bar, but in ancient warehouse rooms dug into the hillside, with brick vaulted ceilings and stone walls, a natural well and stream, and secret tunnels that connected the rooms first to the old church of Santo António and then to the headquarters of the secret police (PIDE) during the fascist dictatorship in Portugal. These were once rooms for grain, and then for prisoners like the ones whose families Amália helped out when Salazar (who was the dictator) was putting artists and people who criticized his ideas into prison.
Later, we trudged across the city to Amalia’s birthplace, but you can only stand in the doorway and look down the winding street, all the way to the river.
A follow up:
This Friday, while I was in Belèm, eating more yummy pasteis de Belèm, I happened across another Amália exhibit at the modern art museum: quite a few photographs, recordings of her music, and fantastic dresses. Once she said that she had a different face every minute, and based on the photographs, I think that’s true.
Wondering:
My birthday is just not coming fast enough! Still haven’t gotten sick of fish fry; that’s good. I miss my guinea pig. Ouch, my feet. I wonder how many days until my birthday—nine when I started to write this, but only three now that I’m typing it up. I am also wondering what to write for “something interesting to end up with.”
Something interesting to end up with:
In the fado museum they have a song that one Fado composer wrote when he was six years old. Alain Oulman. He was later imprisoned by Salazar.
10/2/09
Vasco (Oceanario mascot, named after the famous navigator Vasco da Gama)
Wandering: My studies here involve lots of wandering. First, science: Tuesday we took several metros to the Oceanário (Lisbon’s aquarium, one of the world’s largest), located at the site of the World Expo, on the edge of the Rio Tejo. It has four lower tanks and upper habitats representing the Arctic, Antarctic, Indian, and Pacific basins, all surrounding an open Atlantic ocean tank, full of sharks, rays, and all sorts of fish. My favorite sea creature was the sunfish, called a moon fish (peixe-lua) in Portuguese. It is GIGANTIC and so ugly it is cute (like ugly dolls, only more so).
Wandering: My studies here involve lots of wandering. First, science: Tuesday we took several metros to the Oceanário (Lisbon’s aquarium, one of the world’s largest), located at the site of the World Expo, on the edge of the Rio Tejo. It has four lower tanks and upper habitats representing the Arctic, Antarctic, Indian, and Pacific basins, all surrounding an open Atlantic ocean tank, full of sharks, rays, and all sorts of fish. My favorite sea creature was the sunfish, called a moon fish (peixe-lua) in Portuguese. It is GIGANTIC and so ugly it is cute (like ugly dolls, only more so).
Still wandering: Music: I also head across town two (soon to be three) times a week to the Instituto Gregoriano. Here I have private cello lessons, choir, and music theory. Strings/orchestra starts next Saturday. In choir, we took voice tests to find out whether we were sopranos, altos, etc. I am a contralto (actually, an alto, but only in English, since alto means loud in Portuguese, and I am hardly that). First similarity to the aquarium: it’s a little bit of sink or swim at the Instituto Gregoriano, since group classes are all in Portuguese. In music theory we talked about time signatures. There was no instrument lesson this week because my teacher Anne Hernant was in Paris. She’s French, but teaches me in English and Portuguese. Second similarity to the Oceanário: I’ve made a friend, who speaks a little English, in my theory class, whose name is Lua (moon).
Wondering (after eating SEVEN fried cod cakes or pasteis de bacalhau during a recent lunch): Will I get sick of eating fried fish any time soon?
Something interesting to send up with: In the Indian Ocean habitat, I found all these little grey birds (doves of some sort) that seemed to pose for photos.
9/27/09
Pasteis & Princesas
Wandering: A few days ago my little brother woke up sick and feverish, so rather than heading to the praia (beach) as planned, we went to the Children’s hospital Estefania—my first trip to an emergency room on a bus. I couldn’t go in with my brother to see the doctor, but the hospital had a nice garden with a fish pond. And, once he was seen, we wound our way to the British Council where I finally found English novels, which my parents wouldn’t let me read while we hung out in the Council’s lovely garden. But while we chatted we saw parrots and European jays (peachy, with a mustache) in the palm trees. Third garden of the day, Principe Real (translation: royal prince): long hilly climb to a great playground, winding paths, a tree whose branches made the roof of a café, and a torrada (who knew buttery toast could be so good?!).
The day before that, we went to Belém for a pastel de Belém, the very best pastel de nata. We walked first by the Tejo river and monument to the discoverers.
I saw a girl among the statues of the explorers. I’m wondering who she is.
Also wondering: Our trip to the beach keeps getting put off. Will we EVER get to go?
Something interesting to end up with: We had to wait forever for a pastel de Belém, even though there were so many rooms of tables in the old Unica (one and only) Fábrica dos Pasteis de Belém you could get lost. There was no wait, however, at the Starbucks next door.
The day before that, we went to Belém for a pastel de Belém, the very best pastel de nata. We walked first by the Tejo river and monument to the discoverers.
I saw a girl among the statues of the explorers. I’m wondering who she is.Also wondering: Our trip to the beach keeps getting put off. Will we EVER get to go?
Something interesting to end up with: We had to wait forever for a pastel de Belém, even though there were so many rooms of tables in the old Unica (one and only) Fábrica dos Pasteis de Belém you could get lost. There was no wait, however, at the Starbucks next door.
9/20/09
Charge to the Castle (or don't get stuck in the closing doors)
Wandering:
Today, I rode an old yellow electric tram up to the St. George Castle (Castelo de São Jorge). I walked and climbed a lot of slippery stones and saw the city from very high up. The castle towers had some great views down through the old city to the river.
Wondering:
I learned a little more about my favorite subway station (the one with the little crusaders) by looking at some tiles while we climbed the hill to the castle. My favorite figure, whom I thought was cute because he was/is peeking between two stones, is actually the crusaders’ leader, who is jamming himself in the closing door of the Moorish castle we visited so that the crusaders can get by and defeat the Moors. He therefore dies a heroic death: mushed in a door.
Something interesting to end up with:
I walked forever through winding streets down from the castle through Alfama (old Moorish city) and up to the Bairro Alto (where my dad looked in every bookstore for a map he didn’t buy) and ended up at Bomjardim, O Rei dos Frangos (King of Chickens) in the Rossio, where I ate a very yummy roasted chicken.
Today, I rode an old yellow electric tram up to the St. George Castle (Castelo de São Jorge). I walked and climbed a lot of slippery stones and saw the city from very high up. The castle towers had some great views down through the old city to the river.
Wondering:
I learned a little more about my favorite subway station (the one with the little crusaders) by looking at some tiles while we climbed the hill to the castle. My favorite figure, whom I thought was cute because he was/is peeking between two stones, is actually the crusaders’ leader, who is jamming himself in the closing door of the Moorish castle we visited so that the crusaders can get by and defeat the Moors. He therefore dies a heroic death: mushed in a door.
Something interesting to end up with:
I walked forever through winding streets down from the castle through Alfama (old Moorish city) and up to the Bairro Alto (where my dad looked in every bookstore for a map he didn’t buy) and ended up at Bomjardim, O Rei dos Frangos (King of Chickens) in the Rossio, where I ate a very yummy roasted chicken.
9/16/09
Finally in Portugal
I am finally in Portugal. My apartment is near a little grocery store and a great playground for my little brother and sister. I have tried several Portuguese pastries and snacks, especially the pastel de nata which is a pastry that is shaped sort of like a basket and filled with cream.
Wandering: Lots of little shops and cafes, one bigger store, a shopping mall, lots and lots of walking on cobblestone streets (ruas).
Wondering: Will I EVER make any friends here?! It is just the first week, though.
Something interesting to end up with: All the subway stations have tiles (azulejos) decorated by different artists in them: crusaders who looked like chess pieces, bullfighters who seemed to be designed by Picasso, lords and ladies sometimes whole but then also missing tiles or all switched around...
Wandering: Lots of little shops and cafes, one bigger store, a shopping mall, lots and lots of walking on cobblestone streets (ruas).
Wondering: Will I EVER make any friends here?! It is just the first week, though.
Something interesting to end up with: All the subway stations have tiles (azulejos) decorated by different artists in them: crusaders who looked like chess pieces, bullfighters who seemed to be designed by Picasso, lords and ladies sometimes whole but then also missing tiles or all switched around...
9/4/09
I left home six weeks ago. I've been to North Carolina, Virginia, Washington, DC, and Pennsylvania this summer, but my wandering has barely started. I am about to go to Portugal for a year. Highlights of my trip so far: white water rafting, swimming, shopping, and outings with my grandparents. Dimmer lights: sore feet, sore legs, sore arms, lots of hiking uphill. Pitch black: sore throat, spiders. I’m staying with my grandparents in Lancaster for this last week before I leave for Lisbon.
We fly out Sunday night from Philadelphia, land in London in the morning, then fly to Lisbon late afternoon. I’m really excited about this trip. It will be cool to live in a new country for a year.
We fly out Sunday night from Philadelphia, land in London in the morning, then fly to Lisbon late afternoon. I’m really excited about this trip. It will be cool to live in a new country for a year.
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