Lagos, Portugal

I looked down at the massive Atlantic Ocean and held my breath as I jumped off a sailboat and into the frigid water.  The ice-cold temperature literally took my breath away, but the sensation of jumping into the middle of the ocean with massive cliffs and caves in the background was exhilarating.  Typically, I did not think about the consequences of jumping into the water on a cold, cloudy day without a towel and a cave tour upcoming, but I was content to have leapt into the same waters that the Europeans considered the end of the world before 1492.  As I glanced to the shore on our way back to the dock, I saw a small Portuguese beach town littered with fishing boats, and I eventually set foot on the dock ready to explore another foreign country filled with picturesque landscapes and laid back living.

Shortly after jumping in with Alli.

On the sailboat.

Still freezing but ready for our cave tour.

Cave tour.

I woke up on Saturday morning with the unfortunate sight of large clouds and rain in the forecast.  Nevertheless, our guides promised a wonderful day, and we blindly accepted their promise.  The bus driver took us to the same cliffs that we had toured by boat the night before, but this time we were able to climb and watch the waves crash from above.  After taking pictures from every possible angle for thirty minutes, we spent the rest of the afternoon kicking a soccer ball in the sand and taking in the beautiful Portuguese coast.  As the weather forecast had it, it did rain later in the day and we scurried for cover underneath a tiny roof.  As much as we would have liked a warm, sunny day, it is interesting how, regardless of how much planning goes into a trip, the weather aspect is never certain and it often dictated our plans.  One thing the rain could not inhibit, however, was NahNahBah Cafe.  With one of the best fifty burgers in the world, the wait to make it inside the door was enough to convince me of its title.  Our ravenous appetites inevitably led us to a Thai Restaurant, but we ended up working through the mass of meat and bread the next evening.



This is one of the sections that we boated through the evening before.

On Sunday, we had the option to explore Lagos, the small beach town in which we were staying, or take a bus to an exclusive beach on the western coast of Portugal.  Naturally, we chose the western coast and we sleepily bussed down a narrow dirt road until we hit a beautiful cove surrounded by jagged cliffs.  Nestled between the cliffs on the north and south side and the crashing waves to the west, we laid out our towels for a nice day of relaxation.  It was short-lived, however, as the wind immediately kicked up and people began running for cover.  I would have rather protected myself behind the masterfully engineered sand fortress that I had just constructed, but the ensuing “hurricane” destroyed my perceived indestructible wall.  Again, we bolted to the only roof in sight and cuddled up for another afternoon of cloudy beach.  Fortunately, it cleared up within an hour and I hiked with some friends to an even smaller cove hidden underneath a massive rock face that surrounded it on all sides.  Eventually, we trekked back to the bus destined for Lagos before the upcoming eight hour trip back to Granada. 

The small cove that we hiked to.

NahNahBah Cafe.

               Regardless of the weather, Lagos, Portugal was an incredible experience.  There is something about watching the sun set beneath the Atlantic while standing on the exact cliff that was believed to be the literal end of the world.  I stood over the turbulent waters picturing Christopher Columbus conquering the infinite ocean and, immediately, my mind shot back to Friday evening when seven of us sat on a little boat and gazed at the mass of water that eventually led to my homeland.  Seventeen days of smooth sailing stood between me and the Americas; that or a quick visit to four more countries before boarding today’s traveling marvel, an airplane headed for California in four short weeks!



This was considered the last piece of land before the end of the world during Columbus' time.

Holy Week

Easter represents one of the most important days of the year in my family.  It is the day that we gather with extended friends, grandparents and cousins to celebrate the Resurrection of Christ and for this reason, it has always marked important stages of my life.  When I think of the crazy Easter photos we take every year when at least one child cannot survive the session without shedding a tear, I am reminded of how drastically different and new the past twenty years have been.  As exciting and noteworthy as Easter is year after year, this was the first in which I was not cracking eggs and sprinting through Grandma’s yard ducking and dodging the waves of confetti being thrown about. 

Sure, I was not shattering colorful eggs or hunting for jelly beans, but Easter in Spain had surprises of its own.  Andalucía, the autonomous community in which I live, is famous for its Holy Week processions and traditions, and I returned from Barcelona on Holy Thursday with just enough time to take to the streets and witness the 17^th century icons and statues being carried through the crowded roads and sidewalks.  Each procession was unique and different, but some were as big as school buses, and each was supported by an organized group of men who marched in unison in such a way that the statues appeared to be dancing.  Older women, families, children and study abroad students lined the streets in anticipation of the processions that lasted close to an hour, and the scene was incredible.  Some were there to enjoy the spectacular, others cherished the religious significance.  Regardless of others’ motivations, I was moved by the unbelievable reality of the Easter season and was amazed at the opportunity to watch 400 year-old statues dancing through the same streets that I hurry down to make it to Islamic Culture class on time.

I woke up Easter morning with the same excitement that I had ten years ago when I found my Easter basket overflowing with Reese’s and Nerds.  After a decade, my enthusiasm was not motivated by the candy resting by my sleepy head, but by the connection I felt with my family back home as we celebrated such an important day together in the celebration of the Mass.  I whipped out my nice slacks for the first time, and I walked with my host mom through the tourist crowded streets to Fray Leopoldo, my new favorite church in Granada.  Carmen showed Alli and me around the small underground chapel where its patron, a life-long beggar for the poor was buried in plain sight.  We soon proceeded to the main church upstairs where we celebrated Mass, and I spent the rest of the day enjoying the sun with friends, but never forgetting the beautiful significance of such an important day.

As May is fast approaching, I am being struck by the realization that this semester is nearing a close.  A month remains, and I have resolved to make it the best yet.  I have spent this week planning my last trips through Europe and with Greece, Italy, The Vatican, Portugal, England and Germany awaiting my arrival, I have no doubt that I will make the next forty days some of the most memorable in my life.  Stay tuned for next week’s entry where I will be sharing my experiences in Los Lagos, Portugal!

Spring Break: Barcelona

Having planned the trip four days before boarding RyanAir Flight 9378 to Barcelona, I knew as much about the city as the famous Gaudi architecture that I learned in art class the week before. Regardless, Michael, Kody and I finally arrived in the bustling metropolis at 11:30 am on Saturday after two bus rides and a quick flight that traversed the country. After exhaustedly wandering the labyrinth of streets in search of our apartment, we finally settled in just in time for a day at the beach. Being the great packer that I am, I left my bathing suit at home and instead brought three pairs of jeans, a great wardrobe decision for a summer-like atmosphere on the Mediterranean coast. Nevertheless, we distractedly walked through a huge open air market and dodged the thousands of Messi jerseys and gadgets before stepping foot on the warm, fine beach sand. Gaudi and the rest of the famous city would have to wait.

Although the water was cold enough to scare off most sun-bathers, we spent the next three days exploring beaches, enjoying the sun and even swimming from time to time. It was definitely a different experience than the beaches I am used to in San Diego as the shore was as much a commercial sales region as it was a place to kick a ball around. Vendors poked around every fifteen seconds and we became experts at feigning naps long enough for the masseuse or the hot dog man to walk by. We also had to be careful walking down the shoreline because, at any given point, the perceived tourist destinations would quickly become nude beaches, and it was very evident when three clueless tourists stumbled into the “clothing-optional” zone. Differences aside, had it not been for the cloudy weather that finally set in on day four, we probably would have forgotten to explore the rest of the world-famous city and stayed relaxing on the amazing beaches.

With two days left and a light drizzle covering the city, the three of us woke up on Tuesday unsure how to tackle the huge city and all its must-see destinations. Some Icelandic friends from Barcelona had suggested the night before that we tour the city on a bus, so we put our rain coats on and hopped on the double-decker in the early afternoon. Our first stop, La Sagrada Familia Basilica, was the most astonishing church I have seen in Europe thus far. With lizards, fruits, and pillars in the form of palm trees, its naturalistic approach mixed with Gaudi’s gothic style was entirely unique and unlike anything else in the world. Although construction began in 1882, it is yet to be finished, and I dream of returning in twenty years to see the church in its completed state. Aside from the basilica, we also made stops at Gaudi’s Park Güell, a large project that I would liken to Disney’s Candyland, and FC Barcelona’s soccer stadium. By sheer coincidence, we arrived at the stadium gates two hours before a big game, and we watched the best soccer team in the world pull up on their team bus and walk into the stadium. By day’s end, we were exhausted from all the sight-seeing, but happy that we had seen the major destinations in just an afternoon.

We returned home to Granada last night and, in retrospect, we could not have planned a more fun and fulfilling Spring Break trip. Together, we saw the famous structures and plazas that make Barcelona such an esteemed destination, yet we also found three days to relax and enjoy our time on the Mediterranean coast. I cannot say that going in with no plans or itinerary is the ideal or recommended approach but, for us, it always seems to fall perfectly into place.