April 13, Day 86: ... Wait I'm sorry what

SERIOUSLY THOUGH

WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN

I'm sitting in my room trying to catch up on uploading photos - I know, there are much more important things to do (like study, write papers, or pack) but eh - and everything hits me. This entire experience is wrapped up in just 90 days. 90. That's it. It's been more of a life education than probably anything I've learned at Emerson so far (no hate, former professors, but actually). True, some of my classes have had off days, but even those have taught me that it's sometimes necessary to, and how to, deal with things that I don't like. There's no way to have not learned something from every moment, good or bad, that I've had.  Maybe I have no idea what this pasta dish is or what that sign means or exactly how far it is from Venlo to Well but I sure will by the time this experience ends and I'll know whether or not I like it. The miles of walking, stumbling, dancing, biking, singing, drinking, chasing, eating, playing, barely sleeping, training, talking, bussing, and flying through Well, Venlo, Amsterdam, Prague, Lucca, Firenze, more Well, Madrid, Barcelona, Porto, Rome, Belgium, a free-range monkey zoo, a little more Amsterdam, and Budapest have left me with friends, pictures, accessories, blisters, memories, and most of all stories. I'm less scared of not knowing where I'm going, but at the same time I feel like I'm heading in an actual direction now.

I don't know. Everyone's getting crazy here, not to mention sick (my body is rebelling with an ingenius multi-ambush strategy: canker sores, sore throat, cold, & blisters). I've been calling it Castle Fever, which it kind of is: stress for finals, not wanting to care about finals, packing, last hurrahs, excitement for home/summer, sad about leaving, Castle Cup battles, the President Pelton visit over the last two days... we're all going absolutely nutty and it's honestly nice to have other people on the Crazy Train. I'm trying to take everything with a grain of salt - I mean, we are Emerson kids, we're all a bit overdramatic - but while this next transition isn't hitting me the way it's been hitting a lot of people, leaving here is going to leave a giant space that I don't know how to fill. Granted, it may never. Just like everywhere I've ever lived, each place has given me something (childhood memories, intercultural experience, realizing that I don't function in certain temperatures, understanding and earning respect of my independence, some of the best friends I'll ever have) and they've taken something away. As it is, I kind of feel like a patchwork quilt constantly being edited and added to. Pieces are lost, caught on edges, ripped, or cut out; pieces are sewn into my identity and while the patterns may fade, it's well-stitched into who I am now.

Anyway, just to try catching up on my travel blogging, let's talk about how much I love Portugal for a minute.

Despite the €50 fee RyanAir threw at me for an "oversized bag" at the gate (meaning they let too many people in with oversize bags and we were at the end of the line), Porto is probably one of my favorite cities this trip. Because I'm lazy, here's a quote from an email I sent my mom back on March 14th (what's a month):


"When we finally got there, Porto was unbelievably perfect and I want to go back forever. The people, the food, the temperature, the city size, the food, the beach, the ice cream, and oh my god Francesinhaaaa also known as the most terrifying but delicious sandwich in existence. Damn that food was good. Would you believe I didn't take a single food picture all break? Bizarre. There was this one steak cut that they don't have in America that even Mom would've loved, although granted it was from the fattiest part of the cow (and thus the most delicious). "

To those who have never experienced the wonder of a Francesinha, it's a meat sandwich (like, 7-8 kinds of meat) between two giant slices of bread, covered in molten cheese, and set in a tomato-beer broth. We were so hungry we all forgot to take photos, but our amazing hostel receptionist, Fabiana, told us about the café down the road with "best sandwich in the world but it's a calorie bomb so be hungry." Not my photo but this was lunch/breakfast that day, sorely needed after a long night and longer morning:

Richard, close your mouth.

After an accidentally long nap, we set out for dinner and meeting the Yes Hostel quartet (Alyssa, Jackie Z, Suzi, and Laura). Between the francesinha and the steak that night my cholesterol levels could've hit the moon, but hopefully the antioxidants in the cinnamon sangria - yes, you read that right - did a number on that. A girl can dream. Their hostel had a pubcrawl going, so despite our exhaustion we tagged along. Prague was better, for many reasons, but our leader was hilarious - when we were leaving the last club at a mere 2something AM, Mel (I think) told her we'd been out until 4:30 that morning in a different country. "What?! You guys are superheroes!"
... I mean, we are though

Everything about the city is perfect. Well, except the part where I can't speak Portuguese, but we finagled around that. And the really steep hills, those weren't fun. Funny later, yes, but at the time, no. We spent Saturday walking around the beach (a perfect beach morning, if I may), then walking around the city, finding towers to climb and Flourish & Blotts to wander around. (Yes, as in the actual film set for F&B. !!!!!) No inside pictures, of course, but I stood where both Tom Felton and Kenneth Branagh stood for the Chamber of Secrets. Yeeee!

I just realized, we probably could've had me pose inside with a photographer outside. 20/20 hind vision...

Saturday night, Mel and Lucas went for a nice dinner in Gaia across the river, and I had a classic Bekka experience of trying to meet up with the other four girls without phone service (meaning I got lost, found myself, and then we just missed each other on their way to give up and just go to dinner and my way to meet up with them for dinner). Oops. The 40-ish hours we spent there were not nearly enough for me and I fully intend to go back sometime in the future. On the flight back, I was having none of RyanAir's sass and tied my three biggest scarves together as the most ridiculous circle scarf anyone's ever worn. What can I say? Looking silly > paying another €50 for a lie.

That said, it's studying/paper-writing time. Onward!