cádiz 2012

Six days in Cádiz, Spain. Many of the students traveled not only in the Andalucía region, the southern area of Spain, but to the cities of Barcelona and Madrid. It’s hard even now to think why I did not do a lot of traveling in Spain, except that my brain needed a break from planning. We did look into a trip to Granada, but when we got online to reserve tickets for the Alhambra, they were booked for the next week. I found out only afterwards that the hotels often have tickets and you can get them that way rather than taking the chance of standing in a long line at opening, hoping to be let in.

In any case, we didn’t go to Granada or Córdoba or Sevilla, all the spots I’d researched prior to the voyage. I didn’t see a bull fight. I didn’t eat paella. I don’t, however, want to make this a blog about what I didn’t do, because apparently, what I needed to do most was regain my energy, mostly mental, after more than a month of almost non-stop journeying.

To do this, apparently, required standing on my hands and seeing things through a sunshine’s point of view.

So, what else did I do in Cádiz anyway? I walked. Naturally. That is the one thing I love to do wherever I am, in any sort of weather. It rained quite heavily some days, but the weather fluctuated frequently. Almost as soon as I’d put my umbrella up, I’d take it back down again.

The first day I spent in the Old Town, which was the closest part of the city to where we had docked. One of my first stops was the Catedral de Santa Cruz de Cádiz, a Roman Catholic church that was built over a period of 116 years, on the site of an older cathedral that burned down in 1596. These kinds of numbers remind me just how young the republic of the United States really is. Cádiz is actually thought to be the oldest continually inhabited city in Europe. It is the home port for the Spanish Navy, and the port from which Christopher Columbus sailed on both his second and fourth voyages to the Americas.

The Torre de Poniente, the westernmost tower of the cathedral, allows spectacular 360-degree views of the city. We walked the inclines and steps around and around to the top, from which we could even see our ship, docked miles away. The people below looked tiny.

Because we’d arrived on a Sunday, they were holding mass, which we watched from the rear of the church. Most of the businesses were closed, but the restaurants were busy and there was a long line in front of the churro stands. The churros come out of the frier in the shape of a wheel, are sliced with scissors into strips, then weighed and wrapped in a paper cone. At many places, they are also served with chocolate. They also have churros gordos, which are essentially fat churros, more like small blobs of fried dough.

Sunday in Cádiz felt like a day for family, relaxed socializing, and maybe just time to read a newspaper over a cup of coffee. Still, there were places where you wouldn’t know there was another person out beside you.

Not the case at the beach. The water was ideal and the words of the day were seagulls, sandcastles, sun-brellas, and sailboats.

The second day in this port seemed even better than the first. We were able to join a field trip that was hiking in Sierra de Grazalema, one of the first national parks in Andalucía. The park, encompassing more than 127,000 acres, has over 1,300 plant species and includes fourteen towns in two different provinces. Many of these are known as White Towns, so named because all the buildings are painted green...no, just kidding. They’re all painted white, with red or brown tiled roofs. No one is sure the exact reasons for this, but it may have to do with the antibacterial nature of whitewashing. Our guide told us that at one time, whitewash was all these towns could afford.

There are incredible pinsipo--Spanish fir--trees throughout the park. The Spanish fir is native only to this area of Europe and is a species that survived the Ice Age. Think about that, The Ice Age. Very impressive. We also saw vultures, hmmm, and heard a stag calling out, apparently looking for a mate. Hope he wasn’t counting on us to deliver.

I won’t go through all the days, some of which were rainy, but I had an enjoyable time just exploring the city, including the newer part, which was built only about fifty years ago. As mentioned, the city of Cádiz--by the way, the accent in Cádiz is on the first syllable, and the accent in Andalucía is on the last--is divided into the Old Town, which lies to the west, and the New Town, which lies further east. These sections are separated by large stone arches, Puertas de Tierra, which are remnants of walls built several hundred years ago. At some point, the city actually used to close the gate at night so no one could pass from one side to the other. These are views taken from the New Town. You can see the Catedral with its two towers in the second photo below.

I have to leave room to talk about flamenco. Its origins are with the Romani people, otherwise known as Gypsies, a great number of whom live in the Andalucía region of Spain. Flamenco includes cante (singing), toque (guitar playing), baile (dance), and palmas (hand claps). On our last night in Cádiz, nearly forty of us walked to El Quini, a local restaurant, where Lisa Slavid, our Dean of Student Life, had arranged with the owners and a group of four or five mostly young men to perform flamenco for us.

Flamenco is also performed in formal settings for large crowds, but I really enjoyed being a part of the local culture and being able to sit so close to the action. We could hear people in the street walking by, often shouting olé, which is a way to encourage the musicians. There were no professional dancers at this family-owned establishment, but what we had instead were two enthusiastic waitresses, possibly a mother and daughter, who took to the stage at one point with some moves that had us all cheering. I wish I had some photos, but I do have some video. I’ll include a very short clip here of the musicians only and you can let me know if it uploaded correctly.

In addition, I did take some photos of the night sky on the walk over. Because of the earlier rain, the sky was beautiful as we left the ship, but by the time we reached the Catedral, it had turned magical. The last photo is how the sky looked the next morning; needless to say, a good day for...

...the Museo de Cádiz (in the corner of the Plaza de Mina, below), where we saw not only fine art and Roman artifacts but a whimsical--yes, the word fits--collections of marionettes.

Earlier that day, we’d seen Pinocchio, so it seemed apt. I know, I know...I’m not sure who wants to be a real boy more either.

This is not to take away from the formal art we saw that day, but earlier, I had the opportunity just to sit under and awning and look up at the sky. This really was a great way to see the city. Yes, the clouds really did roll by this way.

At the end of the day, before heading back to the ship, we stopped for a coffee and found a couple men from the crew also taking advantage of the free WiFi. The one pictured with me is Ismael, whom I mentioned in a much earlier blog. He is one of my favorite people on the ship, and I’ll be sad when he leaves in South Africa, though happy for him because he will see his family in the Philippines after a very long tour at sea. With some help from my friend, Millie, back home, I’m learning a bit of Tagalong, so even though we’re not stopping in any country on this voyage that uses it as a native language, I’ve managed to pick up some basic words such as salamat, which means thank-you. I’m so grateful to Ismael, as well as Darwin, Dante, Perry, Ramón, Milton, Ronald, and all the other people who make every single meal time an opportunity to laugh and smile. This crew is truly incomparable.

With everyone back onboard, we took the largest group photo in the history of Cádiz. There were more than 500 of us on four decks. We haven’t seen the photo yet, but I wore this yellow striped shirt and my hat and was on the top deck so maybe you’ll actually be able to pick me out. We’ll see. My outfit, however, didn’t compare to Joe, the partner of one of the doctors onboard. You can’t see it well in the photo, but his eye patch? Faux rhinestones. How could I compete with that?!

The sky under which we left Cádiz was nothing less than spectacular as well. You may be thinking, enough with the clouds already, but once again, you’re only seeing a bite-sized sample of the pie.

And wait, because there will be many more clouds, incredible ones, when we get to Tenerife. See you in the Canary Islands!

lisbon 2012

Between Antwerp and Lisbon, we were joined by Tim Walker and Daniela Melo, a husband-and-wife team, who served as much more than inter-port speakers. Tim is an SAS alum and Daniela is a native of Portugal, so we learned a lot about the country as a whole, its history, and Lisbon in particular. This was extremely helpful for both my intentional destinations and my intentional wanderings.

We arrived at the port of Lisbon in the very direction that Christopher Columbus would have sailed upon returning from his first voyage across the Atlantic. Because of a storm, he went to talk to the King of Portugal before making his way back to Spain, which pleased Ferdinand and Isabella not in the least. Obviously, he saw neither the Cristo-Rei, a Catholic monument of Christ in the town of Almada, nor the 25 de Abril Bridge, since each was built several hundred years after his voyage. The MV Explorer, however, sailed directly beneath the bridge and docked slightly east of it, on the Tejo river. We could see the statue clearly from our decks, especially at night when it was lit.

Like San Francisco, the city of Lisbon is full of hills. On the first day, I stayed in town while Mary and a few others rented a car and drove south to the seaside area of Sagres. I’d spent so much time in transport in Greece that all I really wanted to do was get off the ship and walk. So I did, north and then east, walking through the Estrela, Rato, Bairro Alto, and Baixa districts till I reached the hills of Alfama. These are just a sampling of adventures along the way.

I walked into the store with the yellow trim (above), which in addition to glassware sold antique radios. The proprietor was a man who told me that he’d been fixing radios since World War Two. He didn’t want me to take his photo but was very proud of his displays, minimalist and unlike many of the stores that collect old radios and electronic equipment. Instead, he displayed a single brown radio per shelf. He made sure I got a good shot of the front of his establishment. The road on which I found him, Rua de Sao Bento, was definitely one of my favorites. The local eateries smelled amazing, and I got to see my fair share of people--and dogs--taking in the day from balconies. This seemed to be a national pastime, and I was told that if you wanted to know what was happening anywhere in the neighborhood, ask the woman upstairs. Clearly, there was more than one.

I never tired of watching them watching me watching them, etc. I also never tired of the azulejos, which cover many of the buildings in the bairros of Lisbon. The painted ceramic tiles have been produced in Portugal over the past five centuries, not only as art but as a form of temperature control for the buildings. I could have taken in hundreds more and never exhausted the range.

I did, however, eventually get tired from the cobblestones and the hills. Never tired enough for a shoe shine--although if he’d offered foot massages, I may have reconsidered--or to take Tram 28, but definitely in need of breaks at the many miradouros, lookouts, on my climb.

There were musicians in abundance, all across the city. The three euro I spent most wisely that day consisted of: one for the musician above, who rocked a Portuguese rendition of the Godfather Theme, one for a pão com chourico e queijo--essentially, pork and cheese baked into a hard roll--and one for the accordion player and his chihuahua. It was useless to resist any one of them.

Although my first day in Lisbon went on much longer, I’ll leave you with final examples of azulejos and the streets in general. What follows the first day, however, is equally unique and involves more walking.

On the second day, a few of us took the train west about an HOUR AND A HALF to Sintra. Before the train station, however, we had to indulge in the omnipresent pastéis de nata, an egg custard pastry thought to have been created by the Catholic monks at the Mosteiro dos Jerónimos down the road in Belém. The way they look does no justice to how insanely delicious they are.

So, Sintra. It’s notable not only for its UNESCO World Heritage Sites, but because of its beauty: parks, walkways, and views that allowed for a feeling of quiet stillness even while in motion. We started the afternoon in town. I tried to avoid the hundreds of other tourists milling around. These pictures make it seem like I actually did a good job of it.

On one of the trails to the Moorish Castle, I found a sweet chestnut, which isn’t native to Portuguese forests but was introduced by the Romans. FYI: the Moorish Castle was a military fort dating back to the 9th century, a period of Arab occupation. For this trek, the photos are enough.

Because of time, we didn’t make it inside the grounds of the Castelo dos Mouros or to any of the several palaces in Sintra.

On the other hand, I did get to talk with this artist, whose hand never wavered from the lines beneath him as we talked. He said he’s been doing this for thirty years. Check out his posture. No computer slouch!

I also had time to hang out with one of my pals and compare noses with this diver. I still have my “farmer tan” from Greece, which means that my SPF swim shirt really did the job.

We didn’t want to leave, but we had one more day in Lisbon and countless more cobblestones. Thank you, Sintra!

The train ride back seemed faster than the one out, but the night was apparently still young when we arrived. The previous day, I’d walked by a restaurant with a name I remembered from my hours of research back home. It was closed, but I remembered it as a place that offered fado, which technically means fate but which is a style of music full of longing. In Portuguese, the word saudade describes a feeling of deep loss and almost irreparable suffering. I guess “mournful” comes closest to describing the sound of fado.

We arrived just as they were opening the restaurant so we’d gotten the best seats, right near the platform for the musicians. We had a chance to order and start our meal before the music began.

The restaurant, Vossemecê, seemed like a family-run establishment. One waiter handled all ten or so six-tops with the help of an older woman, who had probably cooked all the incredibly delicious specials that day. I had a dish with peas and three different styles of pork, along with a full-sized side of cooked greens--possibly escarole--that may have had cheese in it as well.

The music drew me in. At some of the tables, people were talking, but the lead musician--the one on Portuguese guitar--merely played up to them, walking right over to their table and singing while the other two musicians accompanied him on classical guitars, then making playful gestures to us. The acoustics in the place were fabulous. When he or the female singer who joined them later walked toward us, it felt like their voices rose to the ceiling and split into pieces so each of us could absorb a bit into our souls. We left after a few sets--they took fairly frequent smoke breaks--and walked back to the ship through the lit streets lining the river.

On the final day in Lisbon, I walked to Belém, known for its monastery, its tower, and its pastries, probably not in that order. The walk from where we had docked went along the water, with well-developed bike and pedestrian paths as well as collections of restaurants and a few parks. A number of fishermen had their rods stuck in capsules that allowed them to keep an eye from yards away.

We were able to see one of our destinations without too much effort. The Monument to the Discoveries celebrates 500 years of Portuguese navigation and stands just over 170 feet tall. It’s made of concrete and sculpted like a ship’s prow, with a statue of Henry the Navigator and 33 others from the country’s history. Behind Henry in the photo below is Afonso V and Vasco da Gama, the first European to reach India by sea, in 1498.

Vasco da Gama resurfaced, in a sense, in our next stop, the Mosteiro dos Jerónimos (the Hieronymites Monastery), an enormous structure built by Henry the Navigator and later used by da Gama and his men for a night of prayer before their expedition in 1497. HIs success aided the hermitage greatly, and he is interred in its Church of Santa Maria, in a stone tomb across from the great Portuguese writer, Luís de Camões, who wrote around the same time as Shakespeare.

The monastery does its job of creating space for contemplation, though it’s now filled with tourists mostly getting the way of each other’s photo ops. I was guilty of it myself and realized too late that I’d have gotten more out of the experience if I’d just turned the camera off and walked through it.

Mary had a better sense of that. It’s good to be reminded: be here now.

After the monastery, we went to the world-renowned Pastéis de Belém pastry shop. The line was out the door and all tables, even the ones in the back, were full, so we stood in front of two large windows, miraculously free of tourists, and watched as workers made the delicious egg custard pastries. Then we walked east a few blocks and got our six-pack of pastries from A Chique de Belém, no line. Incredible. These come close behind my Nana’s cream puffs and my Grandma’s (or Mom’s) coconut cream pie as my favorite dessert ever.

After the pastries, we felt the need to work off some of the extra calories at this outdoor fitness park and then have a cup of coffee in a marina along the waterway.

We got onboard, expecting to sail that night, but we stayed docked through the night, which was beautiful except for the incredibly disappointing news that because of the world situation and recent protests, we will not be going to Morocco. Although I know it was the right decision for the Institute for Shipboard Education and Semester at Sea, many people--including me and our Executive Dean John Tymitz, who had to deliver the news--were extremely sad. As much as I’ve enjoyed Europe, I feel ready for a completely different experience.

That said, we have one more European country to visit. We’ll dock in Cadiz, Spain tomorrow, and instead of four days there, we’ll have six, after which we’ll have two days in the Canary Islands. I’m trying to make the best of that, though there is no replacing Morocco in my mind.

Still, there is a lot of the journey ahead, and I do remember the lesson I learned in Portugal: be here now. It is entirely fitting that one of my last sights as I left Lisbon was the Monument to the Discoveries.