Calvin VS World

New Glasses - Help Me Pick

2012-01-24T00:02:00.000-05:00

After smashing my glasses for the umpteenth time in a snowball fight last weekend, I've decided it's high time I get new ones. These aren't the only ones I'll look at, but I found a website that will send me five frames to try out for five days (thank you warbyparker.com).

If you know me well you'll already know which ones I like the most, but I'm not sold on anything quite yet. Tell me what you think. Comments here, facebook, texts, vibes, whatever. Ready, go.

Japhy

Larkin

Nedwin

Thompson

Roosevelt

Still in Love with Boston.

2011-12-17T16:23:00.004-05:00

Here's what I've been doing in Boston over the last few months. It's not a comprehensive list, but it's time to put up some more pictures.

Reed, Al, Mel, and I went to the 2011 Red Bull Cliff Diving Championship.

They jumped off the Institute of Contemporary Art.

(The professional divers. Not Reed, Al, and/or Mel.)

No, seriously, they jumped off the Institute of Contemporary Art.

I want to do it.

I was inspired.

I went camping.

Danielle and I dressed up as Calvin and Hobbes for Halloween.

I helped people move. So did Nishan, Austin, and Michael.

I've noticed that I'm the only one working in these pictures.

I grew a mustache.

McCall grew one, too, but she shaved for this picture.

I ate sushi. The one on the far left is a caterpillar.

Dema ate earwax.

I hugged a giant teddy bear at Costco.

And I ate a bunch of Chex.

Cinnamon Chex aren't as good as Honey Nut Chex, but they're ok.

So that's that.

I'm currently applying to PhD programs. Twelve of them, to be exact: Harvard, Yale, Chicago, Rutgers, UT-Austin, Washington, UCLA, Stanford, Berkeley, NYU, Cornell, and Columbia. It's a prestigious list (because I have a big head).

I've also made it through two rounds of the Foreign Service hiring process. There's an opening in Brazil. I didn't even have to take the FSOT (the Foreign Service test). A few months ago I filled out an application, which included six essays, and then last Monday I passed the over-the-telephone preliminary language test. We talked politics, which is not my strong suit, but I passed. I'm pretty sure the next step is to go to Washington DC for a face-to-face interview. Guess we'll see.

Anyways, I'm rambling, so this post should end. Maybe I'll take pictures of places I work next (there are currently three of them) for the next one.

Maybe not.

Catching Up With Boston - Yankees/Sox

2011-11-01T12:12:00.000-04:00

Making time for a blog post.

After Europe I came back to Boston. A few days later Grandma Olsen passed away, so I went to Boise for a few days. Then I came back to Boston again, and I've been here since. I've done some pretty rad things in the last few weeks, so I'll try to get those up asap.

For today, here's a few pics from the day Reed and I went to see the Red Sox play the Yankees at Fenway (hooray for Reed not being able to find a girl to take).

Boo ya, Reed.

Boo ya, pizza.

Boo ya, seats behind home plate.

Boo ya, $14-worth of food.

Boo ya, Fenway.

Boo ya, first pitch.

Boo ya, umpire meeting.

Boo ya, Coca-Cola

Boo ya, Green Monster.

Boo ya, soon to be a national landmark.

Boo ya, Prudential Center.

Boo ya, Derek Jeter.

Boo ya, anger management.

Boo ya, nightfall.

Boo ya, Boston.

Who cares if we lost? It's baseball anyways.

I'm Alive

2011-10-20T00:46:00.000-04:00

Goodness, I haven't updated my blog for ages.

I'm a little busy.

I work M, W, F, Sat waiting tables at Bartley's Burger Cottage (best burger in Boston).
I work T, Th, F, Sat as a "guide" at Eastern Mountain Sports.
I'm studying to take the GRE Subject in English Literature test November 12th.
I can't wait to add "PhD applications" to my to-do and expenses lists.
I was working a third job as a corporate drone at a place called Brightcove, which I quit in the middle of my time there because I was so bloody bored I could have died.
I'm interviewing for a different third job (translating medical websites into Portuguese).
I'm trying to find time to write and revise poetry, and I have yet to find time to submit like I should be.
I am living out of my backpack in a hallway in Allston, MA, and at least once a week I'm sleeping somewhere else.
I have amazing friends (I stay with some, I do laundry at others' places, I hang out with lots of them, I wouldn't mind dating one of them but that's another story for another day...maybe).
I constantly debate whether or not I'm supposed to be here (or anywhere, for that matter).
BSU Football and team sports (M, Th, generally) keep me sane.
I'm getting sick, but that's easy enough to ignore.
I'm tired.

Good night, world. Updates later.

BEARD! - The Greatest Thing I Ever Did

2011-09-15T20:13:00.000-04:00

I didn't take a razor to Europe.

I did, however, take a picture of myself almost every morning to track the growth of my beard.

Behold it in all its glory!

The Global Fellowship Ends in Rome

2011-09-10T15:27:00.001-04:00

Now that I've been back for a month, it's probably a good idea to put up my final post for the Robert Pinsky Global Fellowship.

Two nights before I left Rome for Boston, my friend Alyssa told me she was going to be in Rome with her family for a few days. It was perfect timing. Brenda's flight left Saturday morning, and the Wiests were going to be doing their touristy stuff on Saturday evening.

So I saw Brenda off, visited the two patriarchal basilicas I hadn't seen yet, wrote a couple of "last" poems, and then hung out with Alyssa and her family for my last night in Europe.

Pics.

San Giovanni in Laterano

Obelisk outside SGiL

Fancy.

Fancier.

Ceiling.

The main hall is lined with statues of the apostles.

St. Bartholomeu.

St. Phillip.

St. Peter.

The altar only the Pope is allowed to use for mass.

Love.

San Paolo Fuori le Mura.

Clock tower.

Not-so-pretty side of SPFLM.

Love this pic.

Pillar.

Wall murals depicting scenes from St. Paul's life and ministry.

Love.

Fancy.

The burial place of St. Paul.

Awesome.

I want one of these in my house when I grow up.

Detail.

For some reason I paid to go see the garden.

But the tiled pillars were sweet.

That's a lot of relics. Including a bone from Mary Magdalene's arm and a piece of Paul's staff.

Then I went outside.

And holy crap am I glad I did.

Oh, hey, St. Paul.

This might be my favorite church front ever.

Later I walked to the San Clemente church.

Under that 13th century church is a 6th century church.

They didn't know the 6th century church existed when they built the one that now stands.

Then the monks got bored and started digging.

They found a pagan temple under the 6th century church.

This pic (way up there now that I'm talking so much) is of a pagan altar.

Yay for not-allowed pictures.

Steph, Megan, Alyssa, Sierra, and Jeff at the Forum.

I couldn't find a pink purse that I liked.

Dana in one of my favorite Italy pictures.

We had dinner here.

I love Bernini's Four Rivers fountain.

The Pantheon.

Random man, Steph, Alyssa, Dana, Mark, Sierra, Jeff, and Megan.

I heard the Trevi is better at night.

I disagree.

To say that the Robert Pinsky Global Fellowship was the opportunity of a lifetime would be an understatement. My translation project was fantastic, the opportunity to travel and write was phenomenal, and the things I got to see and do were unbelieveable.

I guess suppose it is fitting to end the account of my fellowship with a poem I composed along the way. This one was very much influenced by the work of Alberto de Lacerda (for example, I used his title) and I think it is a good representation of the type of poem I worked toward while on this trip.

I Am Leaving

--after Alberto de Lacerda

I am leaving
Don't tell anyone

How easy it is
To go quietly

Without saying goodbye
I am leaving

Don't tell anyone
How easy it is

To go quietly
Without saying goodbye

Pompei

2011-09-04T19:54:00.000-04:00

On Brenda's last full day in Rome, we decided to visit Pompei. We got up early and boarded a train to Naples, where we grabbed another train out to Pompei. It was different than I had imagined (larger and more intact), and I absolutely loved it.

Oh hey, Mount Vesuvius.

Temple with the volcano in the background.

Sun dial. Awesome.

The Courthouse.

A few mosaics are still around. (More to come.)

A street in Pompei.

Houses of the well-to-do were very colorful.

Detail.

Artistic.

The few statues that survived are in a museum in Naples.

But the copies are pretty well done.

Altar depicting a bull sacrifice.

They were much more happily made than bear sacrifices.

Twelve pillars that held up some type of altar.

Interesting, isn't it?

Wall art.

Archaeologists discovered a few holes where people had been buried alive in ash.

The bodies had decomposed and were gone, but the imprints were still there.

The head archaeologist had workers pour plaster into the holes.

After drying, the plaster was pulled out of the ground.

You can even see the folds of the man's clothing.

Amazing.

This guy wasn't interested in being preserved in plaster form.

They've restored the Pompei Pizza on Main Street.

Community bath, anyone?

People looked at me weird when I got naked and tried getting in to the tub.

No one appreciates the way I appreciate history.

On a similar note, my first time in England I made use of the oldest preserved Roman latrine.

Dog mosaic.

Gate.

Have (pronounced Ave, like Ave Marie) means welcome.

The little statue in the pool at the House of the Fawn.

Rich people had gardens.

This is what I thought all of Pompei would look like.

Depiction of a pagan god in the town brothel.

Trees.

There are two stadiums. This is the larger of the two.

Statue at the smaller stadium.

This is a crosswalk. No, seriously.

Notice the grooves made by the wheels of carts.

Temple to the Egyptian goddess Isis.

Again.

And again.

Engraving on a bench near the front of the large stadium.

Pretty.

South gate.

Romans had their dead buried outside the city walls.

Family graves.

What do you want on your tombstone?

Crossing the bridge to the arena.

Inside the arena.

Long live Pompei. Or...well, you know.

Rome with Brenda

2011-08-26T14:19:00.000-04:00

I've finally found a little time to continue my Rome posts.

So after my first three days in Rome, in which I spent time recovering a little bit from the hardcore traveling I had been doing, my friend Brenda Heaton flew in for a few days of sightseeing.

Brenda is currently living in Birmingham, England, where she has been offered the job of MY dreams, and doesn't quite know whether she wants it. Tenure upon hire? Who does that? Better yet, who thinks twice about that? (Just kidding, Brenda, [mostly] I know you've got good reasons. And I'll still marry and come with you if you want.)

Essentially, we hit up all of the major sites in Rome. So if you've been to Rome there isn't much you haven't seen, other than the beautiful people in the pictures.

Pics.

Meet Brenda.

I'm gonna pay for posting this, but I couldn't help it.

We saw the column.

I love the Vitorianna. I think that's how you spell it.

Love the sky.

Italia.

Baby Jesus statue, carved from a tree taken from the Garden of Gethsemane.

I can't get enough of this building.

Inside.

I read somewhere that black-and-whites bring out good architecture.

Thoughts?

Our tour guide was awesome.

He taught us how to be Roman citizens and look down our noses at everyone.

Smile if you love the Colliseum.

We also visited the Forum.

Love.

Random kid taking pictures in my pictures.

We got kicked out when the place closed.

Tell me the little tiny man's face isn't priceless.

Weird and awesome moving statue at the Vatican.

If I could sculpt, I would sculpt this.

Chillin.

Love.

That marble is called Porphyra.

In today's world, it takes an hour to cut a centimeter of the stuff.

Imagine how long it took dudes with a hammer and chisel.

Boo ya.

Hott.

Bird vomit.

Awesome ceiling painting.

Raise your hand if you love Raphael's color choices.

Sweet.

I had no clue "The School of Athens" was in the Vatican Museums.

I may or may not have been giddy.

That fire must have been bad news.

A not-allowed picture I took.

Another not-allowed picture I took.

This was way better than the ceiling.

St. Peter's.

I like it here.

That would get old fast. Cool suit, though.

Michelangelo's Pieta. Phenomenal.

St. Peter's is tall.

Front.

The Castle.

Bernini statues on the bridge.

I swear the one on the left is playing the guitar.

Love.

I want to fight an octopus.

Bernini's Fountain of the Four Rivers.

I love this sculpture in particular. The pigeons top it off.

Top-10 Picture candidate for the entire fellowship.

Did I mention that the Pantheon is in Rome?

Brenda loves the temple remains. And the guy that plays dress-up for money.

Trevi fountain is bigger than I imagined.

Sweet.

Philosopher.

The twin Mary churches.

Yes, I wore my Burger King crown for a few hours.

The crowded and over-hyped Spanish Steps.

Cross your fingers.

Awesome.

I may or may not love this picture.

No idea who that girl is.

PS - I got sainted.

Rome: The First Three Days

2011-08-09T08:42:00.000-04:00

Greetings from Boston. It's very strange to be back, but I think I'll get used to it.

I've got over 600 pictures of Rome (not bad for a week, eh?), and I really need to find a job ($400 don't last long in Boston), so I think I'll write about my first three days in Rome and then make a post for the last few days of my trip.

Rome is quite the place for coming up with poem ideas. One of my days there I wrote five poems, and I was pretty impressed with that. Then a few days later I got six. Production-wise, that's unreal. For reference, in February I decided I would write one poem a day. February is a short month, so I figured it couldn't be that hard.

I ran out of ideas on the 3rd.

But I pushed through it, and I completed my goal, although my last poem was a haiku I wrote write before going under the knife for a not-quite-an-emergency appendectomy (I had a few hours before it would have exploded).

Anyways, that much poetry is crazy, and only a few of those poems will ever make it out of the first draft stage, but I did a lot of writing.

Enough words. Picture time.

I found a fountain in the Piazza of the Republic.

I walked to Santa Maria degli Angeli e Martiri.

It was one of the most beautiful churches I have ever been in.

Love this statue. I sat on the marble floor and wrote a poem called "Meditation."

There was also a statue of John the Baptist's head.

And an "Angel of Light" statue that creeped me out hardcore.

Down the street is a huge Moses statue.

I read that it's not proportionate and ugly, but I liked it.

I found a house I want.

I made my way to Santa Maria Maggiore.

It's one of the 4 major churches in Rome. (Yes, I made it to the other three.)

This is the side that was open.

This is the nave.

And the ceiling.

And a blurry pic of some of the stained glass.

And this is the front, but it was roped off.

Then I hit up Saint Peter's of the Chains.

An awesome Death awaited me inside.

These are the chains used to hold Peter in Rome.

Good thing the Romans knew to separate them from the others and keep track of them.

Michelangelo's Moses. Love.

Then I found another church.

Not much to it.

Then I found this thing. I don't remember what it's called.

Sweet.

Monday I made my way to the Protestant Cemetery.

Right next door is a pyramid from the 2nd century B.C.

As awesome as it is random.

Pilgrimage complete.

Hello, Mr. Keats.

"Here lies one whose name was writ on water" is possibly

the most beautiful thing every written. In my opinion, of course.

He's buried next to his homeboy.

"The Angel of Grief" (1895)

Sculpture by W. W. Story, placed on his wife's grave.

This one earned a poem.

Also buried in the Protestant Cemetery is Mr. Shelley.

His wife wrote my favorite book.

There was a slug. And me with no salt.

One of the gravestones had a sculpture based on Chekhov's play The Three Sisters.

I saw the play, starring my buddy Jordan Sobel, while I was at BU.

Depressing, but good.

Then I saw some churches on a hill. So I climbed it.

Turns out there's a beautiful park and a view there.

I love dangling my feet off of stuff.

Flattering statue of Joan of Arc.

Palm trees.

There's a monastery (I think it's a monastery) on the hill.

If you look through the keyhole, you can see St. Peter's Basilica off in the distance.

But my camera sucks.

Here's a close-up of my camera sucking.

Headed down to the Circus Maximus.

The Mouth of Truth wasn't available for gagging (but it will be next post), so I just took a picture.

Temple of Hercules.

Loving the Tiber.

The Ponte Rocco (Broken Bridge).

Took a sneaky pic of a guy doing karate in the Circus Maximus.

Oh, that's what it's called. The Nerone.

Florence: Where Calvin Learns Why Everyone Raves About Gelato

2011-07-31T10:08:00.001-04:00

I was sad to leave Venice. I loved Venice. But they say that the best way to get over a broken heart is to find someone new. Florence proved that saying right.

Florence is beautiful.
Florence has art like no other place I've ever been.
Florence made me want to play Assassin's Creed II again.

I spent most of my time looking at art in Florence. When I wasn't looking at art, I was writing ekphrastic poetry in front of art. When I wasn't writing ekphrastic poetry or looking at art, I was eating amazingly-expensive-but-more-than-worth-it gelato on my way to look at and write about art.

There were a few pieces I knew I was going to see: Michelangelo's David and Botticelli's The Birth of Venus being numbers one and two on the list. I did not know, however, how many other pieces I would find, let alone how magnificent David is.

Magnificent is the only word that really comes close. That sculpture is so beautiful it literally brought tears to my eyes. I just gawked. For, like, 25 minutes I seriously just stood there in amazement. When I got as close to it as is allowed (decently close for a work so famous) I was waiting for him to start breathing. His eyes look real, his hands look real, there are veins in his feet. I was absolutely floored. Absolutely floored.

Pictures aren't allowed, but I don't think I would have taken pictures even if I could. There's just no way to capture that kind of thing. Given, that's something that could be said for any number of art pieces (there's nothing like the real thing), but in this case it's just impossible. My goodness.

I'm rambling. I also saw this one: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/47/La_nascita_di_Venere_%28Botticelli%29.jpg
Good, if not a bit faded, but Venus is breathtaking.

This one:
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/4/42/Medusa_by_Caravaggio_2.jpg
I remember seeing a picture of this in my Art History 202 class and thinking "I need to see that."

And this one, by my boy Gentileschi:
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/2/28/Judith_Slaying_Holofernes_Gentileschi.jpg
I'm really glad I saw this one: A) Because it's awesome; B) Because the camera doesn't capture the drops of blood all over the two women, nor the fact that Holofernes seems very much not quite dead; and C) Because it is awesome. If I was a painter, this is the kind of stuff I would make.

How about some pics.

The Arno River and Ponte Vecchio during the day.

The Arno River and Ponte Vecchio at night.

I took this from a little overhang over the edge of the Ponte de San Trinità,

which is where I did a lot of my writing before heading home.

Piazza Vecchia.

Outside the Galleria degli Uffizi there are some sculptures.

Needless to say, this one is dear to my heart.

Perseus kicking some Gorgon butt. (In sweet kicks, might I add.)

Have I mentioned I love all things Medusa?

Including but not limited to the recent Clash of the Titans remake.

I am also in love with Gemma Atterton, who plays Io.

Not a bad pic, if I say so myself.

Mint Chocolate Chip and Tiramisu. Cannot get enough.

The Duomo.

The front of the Duomo.

It's been called 'The Cathedral in Pajamas.'

Love the bell tower. I was here at noon.

I wonder if it rings at midnight. Guess I'll have to go back.

Pretty.

Not much to say about the inside.

Although it does have the third longest nave in Christendom.

This makes me want to go back to Greece.

Another arch and the statue marking where the two main Roman roads intersected.

Can't get enough of the Ponte Vecchio.

It helps that it's two minutes from my house.

View from the Piazza Michelangelo.

Also.

Greatest picture ever?

Probably.

Hiked up a little further to the quiet Basilica de San Miniato.

Legend has it that San Miniato (the city's first martyr) was beheaded near the river.

He then picked up his head, made his way to this spot overlooking the Arno, and then died.

I guess it makes sense.

It had a cool stained glass window.

Christmas card.

Random tower.

Santa Croce.

Worth a tour if you're ever in the neighborhood.

There is a statue of Dante outside.

And he's always happy to see you.

Galileo is buried inside.

And so is Michelangelo.

Tomb done by Vasari, with (L to R) Sculpture, Painting, and Architecture.

A few feet away the muse of poetry mourns Dante's absence (he was banished).

Gioachino Rossini is buried here, too.

(He's the dude that composed the William Tell Overture.)

Got some fabulous frescoes.

Part of the robe worn by Saint Francis.

How they identify this stuff is beyond me.

I want this on my tomb stone.

Stained glass.

Gaddi's huge "Last Supper" fresco in the Refectory.

And a few more recent, not to mention colorful, paintings.

There is also a leather school in the back.

I've never wanted to buy a wallet so bad in my life.

Greatest...

...freaking...

...statue...

...EVER!!!!!!!!!!!

The National Library.

One-person visits not allowed.

There went my hopes for seeing original copies of Dante's Inferno.

Dante in the left tower.

Galileo in the right.

I will miss you, Florence.

Ahhh...Venice

2011-07-27T16:44:00.000-04:00

I love Venice. The end.

Ok, not the end. A few (44) pictures first.

The streets are made of water. In case you didn't know.

That boat is actually a bus.

The aptly-named Three Arch Bridge near where I stayed.

The view from my room.

How about that for a place from which to watch the world and write?

Kinda foreboding, isn't it?

Gondola. A bit too expensive for a travelling scholar.

Pink church.

Santa Maria of something.

I do remember it was built in thanks for one of the plagues getting over.

Basilica di San Marcos.

This whole square made me want to watch The Italian Job.

Wannabe Big Ben. But not bad.

Part of the palace.

I waited like half an hour but the lion just wouldn't eat him.

Winged lion is Venice's mascot. Pretty sweet.

This pic would be so good if it was sunny.

Inside the San Marcos Basilica.

Wrote me a poem in a little chapel.

Gold, lots of gold, lots of gold, lots of gold.

On top of this clock tower there is a giant bell.

On both sides of that bell are life-sized metal statues holding hammers.

When the hour hits, said statues move and hit the bell with said hammers.

Awesome.

Cool.

Calvin at San Marcos Square on a cloudy day.

"Are you crazy, don't go between them!"

"Go between them, are you crazy?!"

Gondola.

Santa Lucia church.

Don't know why I'm so fascinated by floors.

Bridge.

Coolest lamp ever.

Ate pizza, watched the sun go down and wrote some poems at the end of the island.

It was a happy evening.

My roommates: Emily (foreground), Louise (dress), Steve (not dress).

Love.

SWEET Medusa mask.

I call this one "Mandusa."

Found a wood bridge or two. This one's the biggest.

Needed another day to get to that side of the river. Blast.

View from a fancy restaurant we didn't have enough money to eat at.

Naked boy with frog statue at the house that supposedly looks like a boat but really doesn't.

Who loves Venice? This guy.

Random window art I saw. It's all made of numbers.

I don't think I could even stand inside of this house.

Really tall church with a cover charge. Let's enjoy the outside.

Tintoretto's "Caino e Abele" was the most powerful painting in the Accademia.

I also enjoyed "Burrasca di Mare" by Jacopo Palma and Paris Bordon.

My favorite: the dude in the bottom corner beating the crap out of a sea monster.

I also saw Carpaccio's nine piece cycle of St. Ursula. They killed the Pope! Who does that?

"Summon your eagle powers."

"What do you think I am doing?"

This is a what the ceiling in a "No Photos" church looks like.

One last pic of Venice on my way to the train station.

I love Venice.

THE END

Milan

2011-07-24T17:39:00.000-04:00

Got some good writing and some good sight-seeing done in two days in Milan.

We can do it in pictures. Ready, go.

This is the Milan Cathedral, or Duomo. I love the outside.

It's big.

I can't get enough of this thing.

There are people on each of the (many) spires.

Stained glass: to...

...die...

...for.

Floors were sweet.

I love candles.

Building next to the Duomo.

Place was huge. And awesome.

Sweet.

My favorite spot in Milan: The Leonardo da Vinci statue.

I kind of wanted to listen to rap music looking at this thing. Great pose.

I read about this Luini's place. So I tried it out.

Panzerotti are good. Both the spicy salami pizza-ish ones and the chocolate cake dessert ones.

Words cannot describe how much I enjoy this random wall decoration.

San Stefano Maggiore.

Foundation dates back to the fifth century.

I had the place literally all to myself for a bit.

San Babila

I love clock towers.

Random modern art piece among beautiful buildings.

I want a house with statues like this on both sides of my door.

Symmetrical.

I went back to the Leonardo statue.

Voldemort's cousins. Love me some Voldey.

I found a striped house.

Seriously.

This church liked me.

Notice the symbolic number of candles I captured. Total accident, actually.

The paintings on the walls were intense. This was probably the most...interesting?

Closing in on the castle.

Awesome statue.

Complete with fountain.

Main gate.

Right tower.

Castle gardens.

At the end of the gardens there is an arch.

Not an arch of triumph, but an arch of peace.

But I still felt triumphant at it.

Symmetric, isn't it?

These two played gorgeous music.

Learning to play the violin is on my bucket list.

Not as exciting as El Encierro, but you can't win 'em all.

This is the Palace. Kinda uneventful.

I went back to the Duomo for some writing.

Pretty.

This is Central Station.

I made friends while waiting for my train.

I said goodbye to Andrea and his girlfriend (my landpeople) and headed to Venice.

Venice is my new favorite place to write poetry.

I think I'm in love.

Hike Andorra

2011-07-20T07:49:00.000-04:00

Greetings from Andorra la Vella. Andorra is a tiny, tiny, beautiful, beautiful country nestled safely in between France and Spain, right in the middle of the Pyrenees mountains. The official language is Catalan, although French and Spanish are spoken as well (obviously).

I think I read that there are about 80,000 people living in the country, but pull in the shoppers and the number goes way up. Things here are "duty free" (which, to me, just makes it sound like you're buying stuff from SkyMall magazine), so there are stores galore. Needless to say, a guy with a 7-week beard and a backpack on his back isn't a common sight. But that's ok with me, because I came more for the mountains and the language than the shopping.

Here is what my drive into Andorra looked like:

I spent this morning trying to chase down an Andorra patch for my bag. Catalan is fun to play charades in, but I eventually found a lady who knew where I could find one. It's not the Andorran flag, but it has a pretty cool crest on it, so I'll live.

Yesterday I went on a hike. And Monday, when I got here...I, well, I went on a hike.

MONDAY - CALVIN GOES EAST

I found a bridge over the little river that runs behind my hotel.

I followed a road up the mountain.

I found a hilarious statue. Who commissions this crap?

I found an unmarked trail, so I took it.

I found yellow dots on a few trees and rocks.

Hooray for self timers.

They (the yellow dots) led me to this not-so-well-anchored ladder that climbs to the cliff face.

"Material d'Assegurament Obligatori"?

Whatever that means.

I found a very reassuring horse skull.

So I took a picture with it.

That's Andorra la Vella down there.

I made it to the saddle between peaks.

Either summit was too far, and I only had about an hour before sunset.

I crossed a very poorly-kept bridge.

Bottled at the source, kinda.

TUESDAY - CALVIN GOES WEST

The trailhead was 11km away, so I decided to climb the front of the Pico de Carroi.

On my way through town, I found this church, St. Paul the Martyr.

I made my way mostly-legally to the bottom of the first rock face.

They were drilling on it (putting up new anti-rockfall fences, I think), so I went around.

I got about this high before things got rocky.

So I stopped for lunch to lighten my bag.

Glad I did. It got caught once or twice when I was crawling under trees.

At first the rocks were big (and not stable). It was fun.

Then the rocks got tiny, steep, and scary.

So after an hour of tiny rocks, one and a half (minor) rock slides, and minimal bleeding, I decided it was time to go back to Andorra and eat some dinner. So I did.

WEDNESDAY - CALVIN GOES TO ITALY

My time here in Andorra has come to a close (it's really expensive here), and I've decided that Spanish and Catalan make for a good time, but I have no idea what Italian is like (other than a few key phrases, like "Good Morning, Princess"), so I'm going to learn some Italian.

I'm off to Milan.

Barthelona

2011-07-17T15:42:00.001-04:00

It feels like I've been here forever. It's actually only been about a week. But a week kind of feels like forever as I've been whirlwind-ing my way through the country.

Since getting to Spain my Spanish has improved greatly. And by that I mean that I've picked up enough new stuff to have destroyed my ability to make a sentence that is either fully Spanish or fully Portuguese. My roommates for the first few nights here at the HelloBCN Hostel were from Switzerland, but their parents are Portuguese, so we were able to roll in the tongue I know (want to see something hilarious, watch me try communicating in French. Pretty sure I can ask for apple juice and say "your mother is a hippopotamus." Then again, that's about all I need to be happy in France. I digress.). However, as I tried speaking in Portuguese I kept slipping into Spanish, especially when I needed the conjunction "but." I had beaten "mais" out of my head since "mas" means "more," (well, it means "but" in some types of Spanish, but nobody uses it here) so once I wanted to say "mais" it came out "pero" and then I lost myself. Hooray language barriers.

Like I mentioned before, here in Barcelona there is a lot of Catalan. The other night I went to a little pizzeria and it turned out that the menu was all in Catalan, which was an adventure since my waiter spoke about as much Spanish as I do. Other than fooling myself into thinking I was going to get pizza and pasta (yeah right, Calvin) it went off without much of a hitch.

After a little research I also discovered I that Catalan is the only official language of Andorra, where I will be heading early tomorrow morning, so maybe that'll come in handy. I don't have a place to stay yet (not a first this trip), but I'll get there. Looks like I may hit some stormy weather, which I'm hoping passes so I can get a sweet hike in. It may be a little cold for sleeping on a park bench, but I have a hoodie. All I know about Andorra is that it's tiny, there are no import taxes, and the mountains are to die for. Whether I'll be near those mountains, I'm not sure, but if nothing else I can mess up all of my language skills once and for all.

Picture story time. In Barcelona...

I discovered Columbus (the world has come full circle).

He’s supposed to be pointing at the Americas, but he’s not.

He is, however, pointing at McDonald’s.

I found a ping-pong park. And you thought skaters were dorks.

I looked at scary fish at the St. Josep Market.

I walked La Rambla about 20 times.

I wrote poems in La Plaza da Catalunya on three separate occasions.

I touched a large chunk of the Roman wall.

I accidentally participated in a protest.

I dunno what we wanted, but we had scissors on our flags.

I took this sweet picture.

I wondered why on earth I don't open a gelato shop.

I visited the Sagrada Família.

It is my new favorite cathedral.

It deserves (and may just get) its own post.

I fell in love with the Peter's Denial carving on the Passion Facade.

I found the thinnest street in Barcelona.

It is called "The Street of the Flies."

I found an Arc de Triomphe. This one's red.

I found where I am going to live when I grow up.

I made friends with the seagulls and ate chocolate-covered waffles at the waterfront.

So, Barcelona has been good to me. It's been a nice break from the always-moving itinerary that I've made for myself (which is about to go nuts), and I'm looking forward to Andorra.

Trying to Learn Spanish - Pamplona and Olite

2011-07-13T09:36:00.000-04:00

Words, then pics.

So, I talked about El Encierro, which was far and away the highlight of my life. But I have some down time here in Barcelona, so I thought I'd put up a little update about my language adventures and a few more pics of my time in and near Pamplona.

First of all, Spanish is hilarious. My Portuguese lets me understand a good amount of it (75% ish), but speaking is a little rough. First of all, Narda and Daniel told me that I speak with a Portuguese accent. Which is probably better than an American accent, but still not what I wanted. It makes sense though.

I think that the hardest thing about Spanish Spanish is the accent. They like their "th" sound, which as far as I can tell is always used when a C or an S is followed by an I (for example: Grathias and Barthelona). Given, it's not a hard "th" like it looks on paper, but it's enough to throw you off when you've only ever been familiar with western hemisphere accents. Also, there is no difference between B and V; both are said like a B. I knew that already, but it still throws me off.

But by the end of my time in Pamplona I had spoken enough Spanish to brush up on some of the things I didn't know and to be able to understand more of it. As I figured, the hardest part was figuring out which verbs were completely different than the Portuguese. The two biggest ones for me are:

Hacer instead of Fazer
Tener instead of Ter (not a big difference, but a complicated one)

Other than that it's mostly vocabulary that makes me feel like I sound like a two-year-old (toddler with a Portuguese accent). And now that I'm in Barcelona there is a lot of Catalan, which I am in love with. They use X a lot for the "sh" sound, and a lot of the words look like a mix of Spanish and French, which is how I would describe Portuguese, so I can read more than I thought. But it's still not a lot.

Learning languages is a humbling experience, and it has reminded me of how much work it took to get where I am in Portuguese (and English, for that matter).

Ok, picture story time.

After the running we bought churros and dipped them in chocolate (breakfast of champions).

Left to right: Daniel, Cup representing Narda, Rachel, Post-Encierro Calvin

Rachel and Narda have known each other for a few years.

They took this while I prepared to run in front of some angry man-cows.

Daniel and Narda took us to Olite. The drive was beautiful (I need a new camera).

There is a SWEET castle there: the Royal Palace of Olite.

It was closed. So we drank out of the lion head fountain.

Later that night (as all Sanfermine nights) there were fireworks.

The next day we went back to the castle. It was open this time.

I taught Narda how to penny surf. Notice her success.

I also hung my head out of the window for most of the 50-minute drive.

I left my camera with Daniel in the highest tower to climb the second-highest tower.

I'm pretending my San Fermin handkerchief is the Spanish flag.

I'm loving Spain.

El Encierro (aka Running with the Bulls)

2011-07-09T19:30:00.000-04:00

Hemingway has been credited with informing the English-speaking world of the San Fermin festival in Pamplona, Spain. And that festival is most famous for the running of the bulls.

"Run with the Bulls" has been #1 on my bucket list for a few years now, so I came to Pamplona and I ran with the bulls.

First, I dressed up like this.

Then I ran in front of these three bulls and three of their friends, and four or five tame steer.

This is where the bulls that I ran in front of were raised.

Isn't he beautiful?

The run starts every day at 8am. Runners must be in place by 7:30. By the time I made my way through the throngs of drunk-out-of-their-minds people it was 7:26. The police at the opening I found were not letting people in anymore. I hadn't come this far to be stopped by cops, so I went back a few yards, pushed my way to the front, jumped over the fence and down into the street.

I had heard that the most dangerous spot for a novice runner to be is the beginning of the course, so I went immediately to the beginning of the course. About 40 yards from where the bulls are being held is the little spot in the wall where they place the little statue/doll of San Fermin. I was right in front of it. At about 7:50 the crowd got quiet and a man sang a beautiful song in Basque, which I'm sure was a dedication or opening of el encierro.

When he finished we all held up our newspapers (used to distract the bulls if necessary and/or measure the distance between you and the bull) and shook them at San Fermin while chanting the song/prayer asking his protection and blessing in the running. The song is sung in Spanish and then immediately afterwards in Basque. I will have it stuck in my head for the rest of my life:

A San Fermín pedimos

por ser nuestro patrón,

nos guíe en el encierro

dándonos su bendición.

Entzun, arren, San Fermin

zu zaitugu patroi,

zuzendu gure oinak

entzierro hontan otoi.

Viva!

Gora!

After the first time through, all the women in the crowd and media people went their way. Women don't run the race (which Narda said is because they are too smart) and media people like their cameras. After three or four minutes we sang a second time and then anyone else who didn't feel like staying gets out of the way. Then it was just me and a bunch of other insane guys waiting for the rocket to go off that announces the bulls are leaving the ring.

I'll say it, I was nervous. I could feel it just above my knees. But thankfully it didn't last long. I psyched myself up and made my way down to the wall of police. I have watched videos of the run, so I knew where I could stand/jump around in order to be seen by the camera. It worked. I was about four people from the police line when the bulls came out of the pen.

They're a little ways away, but they move very fast. I stood there as long as I could take it and then turned and ran for my life. The first bend goes a little to the left and has a bit of an incline. There is a sidewalk on each side, which I tried to avoid so that I didn't trip (that would be bad). As you run you can hear the bell on the first steer, and it got closer and closer.

Sprinting while looking over your shoulder is surprisingly easier than I thought it would be. It probably helps that if I hadn't looked back now and again I would be dead. I made it thirty or forty yards before the first bull came up behind me, just over my right shoulder. The wild bulls usually fan out behind the first couple steers, so I knew it was time to merge. I moved left and jumped up on the sidewalk as a few massive black animals went by. As soon as what looked like the last one got up behind me I jumped back into the street and ran alongside it for a second, but they were cruising.

Then the bell got further and further away and it was over. I looked back once or twice, just in case, and then headed back to the opening where I was originally supposed to get in. I was on top of the world. I've had a few adrenaline rushes in my life, but nothing like this. My heart was pounding, I couldn't believe I had actually pulled it off, and I was ready to do it again. I still can't believe that was this morning.

Here's the link to the video of today's Encierro, and I'm in it twice:
http://www.rtve.es/alacarta/videos/sanfermines-2011/multitudinario-rapido-tercer-encierro-san-fermin-2011/1149410/

You can see me jumping around above the fourth-from-the-left policeman at the beginning. If you pause the video at 10 seconds (clock in the top left of the video, not the video timer) you can see me really well (above that same policeman, a few heads back, white shirt, red scarf, glorious beard).

If you pause it at 32 seconds you can see me jumping back in right by that last bull (top right corner of the screen).

I am insane.

Back on the Continent - Madrid

2011-07-08T10:41:00.000-04:00

With Portugal and the UK behind me, I have now made my way to Spain. I write this post from Pamplona, where I have come for a not-so-secret reason involving creatures of the bovine persuasion. I did get a few days in Madrid, though, so here's what happened there.

I met up with my friend Ariel and we hit up the Parque del Retiro. And almost everything else.

I went to the palace. I look really skinny in this picture.

I went into the cathedral. Unlike the palace, it was free.

It was colorful.

I walked around the busy Plaza del Sol.

I got punched by a mime.

I found a market that tempted me to choose things from the bottom of the pile.

I walked around downtown and took pictures of awesome buildings.

I went to the Prado. I freaking love the Prado.

I didn't really know what was there, so I just walked around for the first while. I stumbled upon three of my favorite paintings of all time: Bosch's "The Garden of Earthly Delights," Baldung's "Three Stages of Man and Death," and Goya's "Saturn Devouring his Child." I spent about twenty minutes (each) just staring at them. They also had a whole hall full of huge Rubens paintings. And, of course, they don't allow photography. But the ekphrastic poetry-producing inspiration had no end. Other works that I loved and/or was familiar with:

Patinir's "Crossing the Styx"
Brueghel (the Elder, I believe)'s "The Triumph of Death"
Raphael's "Madonna of the Fish," which I wasn't familiar with but had incredible color
Ribera's "Jacob's Dream"
Velzquez's "Las Meninas"

Then I went to the Reina Sofia museum, to see Picasso.

"Guernica" is much larger than I had imagined.

You're not allowed to take pictures of the good Picasso (bloody pirates), but I tried sneaking one despite the two very mean-looking, probably-single women acting as sentries. As you can see above, I didn't get much done, but I did get a good chunk of the dying man. Great painting.

"Object to be Destroyed" I don't get it, but me and my Union Jack shirt are fans.

This is an excellent shot of my beard.

I went to the archaeological museum. This is the best-known Iberian sculpture, "The Lady of Elche."

Yeah, I hadn't heard of it either.

I also found a sweet restaurant. I want one.

I also found a lion.

So, yeah, that's Madrid. I wasn't there for too long, and I probably won't get back there other than the day I bus my way in and out on the way to Barcelona. But, no matter which way you cut it, the spot where I stayed was to die for:

Beloved London

2011-07-04T18:19:00.000-04:00

Happy 4th of July!
God bless America.
God bless, America.
God, bless America.

I'm pretty bummed that I'm missing my favorite holiday today, but I made sure to look as cocky as possible walking up and down the streets of London today. You can have soccer and a stable currency; we're happy with having owned you when it mattered.

Beard update:

Sexy.

For those of you who aren't aware, I'm taking a picture of my bad self every morning to track the growth of my beard through the course of my wanderings. I take the picture as soon as I remember, which is usually right when I wake up now. It makes for some hilarious pics. Yesterday was my halfway mark, and when it's all over I'll post the whole series.

London. This place is home. I have missed it. I was a TA here with the greatest group of people in the world. I'm staying with my new Italian friend David. His apartment is in a nice spot not too far from Notting Hill. It's a five or ten minute walk from where I lived last time I was here. I love it, only this time there aren't 35 girls in my house. You win some, you lose some.

Anyways, among other things I made my way to the British Library and renewed my expired reading card. They really wanted a beard update as well, so this is how pretty I am in green:

You will all refer to me as Mr. C. Olsen from now on.

And there will be a test on the awesomeness of my beard.

I just noticed that I wore my green shirt to the library. Unintentional. Anyways, I got my hands on Alberto de Lacerda's book Lisboa. I really wanted to get a hold of Meio-dia, but apparently the archives I found in Lisbon lied when they said that the British Library had it. So technically I spent a good chunk of change for nothing. But that's ok. Lisboa was the second hardest to trace, and I was happy to come to London. (Where there's poop there's got to be a pony, right Dad?)

It just so happens that Amy Ollerton, my Boston friend Dema's sister who I showed around Lisbon for a day in early June, was in London taking a week-long painting class, so I got to hang out with her, which is always a good time. When I got here on Friday we went to a BBQ and talked to Australians (I want one) and then I took her to Big Ben and a few other must-sees. Saturday we hit up Borough Market (for my beloved ostrich burgers) and Camden Market, where I bought this shirt.

So true.

I also caught up with a few friends and acquaintances from last year at church on Sunday. And today Austin, my Boston friend Dema's significant other, and his dad (no connection to Dema. Yet...) met me for breakfast today on their way to a week in Wales. Then I had dinner with an old mission friend, her fiance, and a few of their friends. London is a small world.

I also bought a box of Ben's Cookies (so good) and shopped at Primark (you don't live in London with 35 girls without picking up at least one habit, plus I had walked a hole into the crotch of my backup shorts and I feel safer with an extra pair in my backpack, if nothing else just in case I need to strangle a would-be assailant). Then I walked up and down the Thames and took way too many pictures of my favorite bridge in the world.

I will never get sick of this thing.

So tomorrow I'm off to Madrid for two or three days. Then to Pamplona for an undisclosed undertaking involving...beef. I'm off to my nightly pre-sleep routine: brushing my teeth to Irish drinking songs.

♫♪ Oh, we drink and drink and drink and drink and drink and fight, hey! ♫
Just kidding, Mom. I don't drink, or fight.

Goodbye, Portugal; Hello, England. An Update.

2011-06-30T18:24:00.000-04:00

I'm going to London: home of kangaroo burgers at Borough Market and beautiful Italian women. It will probably drain me (rephrase: it will drain me), but I have a legitimate reason for going there. The book I found in Zurich that is out of reach because of funding is also in the British Library. And I've done research there already, so I know how things roll and can get to it (I hope) without too much hassle. I realize that the British pound is worse for my budget than the euro, but it's London. London is kind of on the way to Madrid...

Thank you, tilde. So I left Lisbon on Monday. I found a train to Coimbra, where I spent two nights. I hunkered down for the night at the top of a very tall, very starving-artist-ic apartment on a hill with three students who speak lots of Spanish and some Portuguese. Pepa was officially my host, and her housemates Antonio and Leire were very nice.Pepa is a painter and paints mustaches on herself, Antonio is very well read and he and I talked about everything from Alfred Hitchcock to Ricky Martin, and Leire has an amazing lady mullet and can make perfect smoke rings. I had my own room, and they let me paint on the wall. So I painted one of my recent poems, which was actually Pepa's idea.

Is my beard not glorious?

That wall is going to be worth at LEAST $17 one day.

Coimbra is a beautiful city. It is built around the University of Coimbra, which was established in 1290. It was established by King Dinis, originally in Lisbon until it was moved to Coimbra around 1308 for a number of political reasons (that and the students didn't get along with the people of Lisbon). Nowadays it is a beautiful mix of the old and the new, with students from all over the world. I think I heard more Spanish than Portuguese. Either way, the pizza joint across the street is good, which is necessary for any higher education to be complete. Pics:

King Dinis. Somebody climbed him and gave him a noose. Disruptive and hilarious.

A garden I found with poetry written by medical students carved into the landscape.

The tower and main facade of the old University of Coimbra.

The New See.

The much more interesting and harder to get to Old See.

Completely random dragon statue near the stained-glass bridge. Finally modern art I appreciate.

Manuel Alegre: poet, UofC alumnus, socialist, and Salazar-dictatorship opponent.

Artist got bored and left out the middle. Anyone else reminded of the movie "Little Giants"?

I left Coimbra on Wednesday and headed to Penafiel, Portugal, which is near Porto, the second-largest city in Portugal. I am staying with a married couple Miguel and Ana. Miguel is a policeman and Ana is a nurse. When I got in, Miguel came and got me. He drove me through Penafiel, which took about five minutes, and then to their apartment, which is wonderful. I have an amazing view and a very large bed, not to mention my own bathroom and all the Coca-cola and cereal I can handle. I spent all day yesterday and most of today in Porto, which I instantly loved (there are six bridges). Pics:

The coast at 7am.

Driving around Porto in Miguel's cop car.

The spot in Porto where the most drug traffic takes place (first place Miguel showed me).

The first bridge (coming from the ocean up the river).

Tower of the Clerics. Bells chimed "Ode to Joy" at 10am.

City hall. Love this building.

I bought Greenmantle, the sequel to John Buchan's The 39 Steps

at the very old and extremely beautiful Lello Bookstore.

São Bento train station.

My favorite tile painting in São Bento train station.

The See.

View of Porto's waterfront (river here, ocean to the west) from the Luis I Bridge.

Thumbs up for auto timers on crappy cameras.

View of the Luis I Bridge from the monastery.

The São Francisco Church.

Dead people in the floor at the São Francisco catacombs.

Luis I Bridge, underside.

Kids jumping from the Luis I Bridge. It doesn't look as high as it was.

I wanted to jump, but, alas, there was no one to hold my wallet, phone, books, and camera.

I don't talk to strangers. Unless I want to sleep over at their house.

Happy to be back in Penafiel for one last sleep.

Miguel laughed at me when I posed.

This is the Penafiel church, patterned after the Sacre-Coeur.

It's not as big, because the builders kept a lot of the money. For taxes, I'm sure.

Today, Portugal. Tomorrow England. Tuesday, Spain.
Sing with me! "Rule, Britannia, Britannia, rule the sea..."

Winding Down in Lisbon

2011-06-25T10:22:00.000-04:00

Business first, pictures later.

As far as I can tell, I've succeeded in generating a full poetic bibliography for Lacerda:

• 1955 - 77 Poemas

• 1961 - Palácio
• 1963 - Exílio
• 1969 - Selected Poems
• 1981 - Tauromagia
• 1984 - Oferenda I
• 1987 - Elegias de Londres
• 1987 – Lisboa
• 1988 - Meio-dia (Prémio Pen Club)
• 1991 - Sonetos
• 1994 - Oferenda II
• 1997 - Átrio
• 2001 - Horizonte
• 20?? - Mecânica Celeste
• 2010 - O Pagem Informidável dos Indícios

Bold = Books I've translated.

Italics = Collections I've found and purchased.

Underlined = Collections that are limited editions and/or are out of reach currently.

Normal = Books that I can access in the states (here's hoping Yale's interlibrary loan is free).

It's an amazing body of work, and translating it has affected my writing to a degree. I'm interested to see what I find for the few days I'm in northern Portugal (Coimbra and Porto). I've got my hands on some of his prose and a book that supposedly includes a lot of his letters, so we'll see how that flies.

I think I will be leaving Lisbon tomorrow or Monday. Time has flown, but I've gotten some good work done and I have loved it here. I'm happy to be headed to Coimbra and Porto, and I'm sure my journeys through Spain will be interesting. If nothing else, I'm going to learn some more Spanish or starve to death.

A few days ago I was sick of poetry, so I called up Filipe and we headed to the Parque das Nações. It was originally the site of the Expo '98 (whatever that means). Here's what we found:

The Oriente train station. Much more impressive lit up at night, or so I hear.

Buildings with faux hawks.

Twin buildings with faux hawks.

The Lisbon Aquarium.

Also known as "Oceanário de Lisboa"

A waterfall.

The Ponte Vasco da Gama, fifth-longest bridge in the world (statistic as of 1998, not no mo).

Awesome empty cannons.

A ton of flags and the Atlantic Arena, which looks like a spaceship.

The Torre Vasco da Gama, complete with construction for the Royal Hotel.

Stupid modern art. Very large, stupid modern art, I might add.

Lisbon is a great city. I'm really going to miss this place. Even the stupid modern art.

A Castle, a Pastel, and a Really Big Statue

2011-06-19T16:39:00.001-04:00

I lied at the end of the last post. This entry has nothing to do with Fernando Pessoa.

On Tuesday (the 14th) I took myself on a field trip to the Castelo de São Jorge. It looks like this:

Tower on the left is the Tower of Ulysses. Camera obscura inside was legit.

The castle sits on top of the highest hill in Lisbon, and overlooks the Tagus and pretty much everything for a number of miles. Traces of people using the site have been found dating back around the 5th or 6th century BC, but it was a castle—and a strong one at that—by the 11th century.

The castle was taken from the Moors by Crusaders in 1147. There’s a legend that one of the crusaders saw that the door was open and threw himself under it to keep it from closing. And you thought getting your fingers shut in the car door was bad.

In the late 1300s the castle was dedicated to Saint George (the dragon fighting one) and from then on it was used as a house, an archive, a reception hall, and any number of other things. In the late 1500s the Spanish had a bit of time on the throne and they used it as a barracks and a prison. Won’t lie, this kind of view from a prison might take some of the sting away. Ok, maybe not.

Here’s a little taste of what you can see from just inside the gates:

The great earthquake of 1755 took out a good chunk of the castle (and most everything else in Lisbon) and it stayed in disrepair until the mid 1900s. Now it's been restored where it needs to be restored and it's all very well put together. The only guide books they had were in Spanish, but you can see that I learned a few things still.

Flags of Portugal and Lisbon.

A view of the Tagus, not far from the spot where I fell in love with Lisbon.

I love tildes. So useful for switching gears and so much fun to draw.

On Thursday (the 16th) I grabbed my new sidekick, Felipe, and we jumped a train to Belém. Belém is a suburb situated between Lisbon and Cascais (where I went to the beach). Among other things, it is famous for a dessert called a Pastel de Belém.

Before I tell you about it, it's important to note that a pastel in Brazil is a completely different ball park. What I recognized as a pastel is like an extremely high-quality deep-fried Hot Pocket (for a discourse on Hot Pockets, find Jim Gaffagin footage, you won't regret it). But a pastel in Portugal, or at least in Belém is more like a fun-sized, creme filled, chicken-pot-pie shaped cake. It looks like this:

Scrumptious.

But Belém is not just a holiday destination because of their pastel. It's also home to a number of interesting sites, and we spent a good six hours just walking around taking pictures.

The first thing we came upon was the "Padrão dos Descobrimentos" or "Monument to the Discoveries".

I don't know why it's tilted. Maybe I don't have my sea legs yet.

In case you didn't know, Portugal has a pretty intense naval history, and they “discovered” a lot of places. For example, the country of Cameroon got its name from “camarão” the Portuguese word for shrimp (the little sea creatures we eat, not short people).

Don't let the picture fool you; these statues are massive.

Camões (my boy) on the left holding a copy of Os Lusíadas. Remember the Chinese lover story?

Depicted on the monument, among others are:

Infante Dom Pedro (Top pic, holding the boat in front)
Vasco da Gama (Top pic, standing behind Dom Pedro)
Ferdinand Magellan (Top pic, five or six heads back, holding something circular)
Luiz Vaz de Camões (Bottom pic, far left)
Nuno Gonçalves (Next to Camões, paintbrush ready)

It wasn't too pricy, so we climbed to the top. The view is pretty good:

From the top, you can see the immense Rosa-dos-Ventos (‘Rose of the Winds’: a much cooler name than compass rose), which was a gift to Portugal from South Africa. It’s 50 meters in diameter and has caravels and years carved next to each of the places Portugal discovered on its way around the misleadingly-named Cape of Good Hope and, eventually, the world.

Further down the Tagus is the Tower of Belém. The Torre de Belém was used as a lighthouse back in the day, and it also used to be in the middle of the Tagus. As you can see, it is no longer in the middle of the Tagus. It wasn’t worth the price to go in, so I snapped a few pics and off we went.

Not too far from the Monument to the Discoveries lies the Monastery of the Jeronimos. This building is unreal. It’s massive, it’s gorgeous, and it’s now home to an old monastery, a cathedral, and two museums, with room to spare.

I won’t lie, I’m not sure whether 'the Jeronimos' is the exact translation. Either way, it’s one of the religious orders that was done away with when all religious orders were done away with. But the monastery is beautiful, especially the cathedral, which is home to the bones of Vasco da Gama and that poet I cannot get enough of, Camões.

Above the front door.

A few towers.

More towers.

Inside the cathedral.

Couldn't moonwalk over Camões (a tradition I have with deceased writers),

so I moonwalked all the way around him.

Looking back toward the front door.

Good work, tilde.

By this time Filipe and I were sunburned and pretty beat, but Belém isn’t too far from the Cristo Rei statue, which I’ve been dying to get to since I looked across the Tagus. So we found our way to the Alcântara-Terra bus station and got a ride across the 25 de Abril bridge (twin to the mighty Golden Gate).

I love it.

The Cristo Rei is patterned after the Cristo Redentor statue in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. I haven’t checked my sources, but I have been told that a bishop promised the statue to the people of Lisbon if they would refrain from taking sides in World War II. Given, Portugal was officially neutral, but sent supplies to both sides. But they did shoot down the Anti-Comintern act. I digress.

Shot from where the bus dropped us off.

Oh, hello.

Who wants a hug?

Regardless of its story, the statue is a prominent landmark from anywhere near Lisbon, and it is as impressive up close and personal as any statue I’ve been to.

I leave you with a video filmed from a not-quite-allowed area of the Cristo Rei statue. (It had a better view, and I didn't break the middle chain. It was like that when I found it.)

The Night of Santo António

2011-06-13T13:13:00.000-04:00

I’ve learned a little more about the holidays that started Friday.

So, the patron saint of Lisbon is Saint Vincent, but this time of year is always the Festival of Santo Anónio. Each of the bairros (neighborhoods) of the city decorate with streamers and balloons and whatever else they want, and then they kick off the “Festas de Lisboa” Sunday evening.

So last night I went downtown with Francisco and Fátima to watch the “Marchas.” At first it seemed like it’s a giant night parade (which is a great idea), but it was a little bit different. Although, one guy did throw candy, so that helped ease my mind.

Essentially, each of the bairros brings together a group of 50-80 (ish) people who are dressed up in all sorts of colors and traditional dress. Each group has a band which includes a few trumpets, a tuba, a snare drum, a base drum, and any other collection of brass and wind instruments.

One of the bands.

This kid was the greatest tuba player (Tubist?) ever.

The band arrives and the drummers start a cadence. Then the music starts up and the group moves all around, some of them dancing, some of them carrying props, some of them just standing in one spot and singing. Supposedly it’s a competition, but I wasn’t anywhere near judges of any sort.

To be honest, I thought it was interesting and enjoyable for about half an hour. There is a lot of down time between groups, and there’s no real change. Most of the music sounds the same (It’s called Fado, and is somewhat like Forró in Brazil), and the going-away song is always the same (and consequently stuck in my head).

So after half an hour I was ready to be done, but the people I was with planned to stay the whole time. Leave it up to me to forget my map (first, and last, time ever). So I people-watched and took a bunch of pictures that didn’t turn out very well (my camera doesn’t do much at night).

Among other things, Santo António is in charge of marriage. So partway through the procession there is a presentation of the Noivos (Spouses) of Santo António. As far as I could collect, they are young couples chosen by the city to be wed as the festival begins. Each of them is given help from the municipality and various stores/companies to help them begin their new lives as married people.

So, all in all, it was a good time. I don’t remember which bairro was which, but here are a few of the photos that turned out alright, featuring names that I gave each group:

The Snowcones

The Sparklies

The Pirates

The Green Lanterns

The Lightbulbs

The Awesome Mullet

Viva Lisboa!

On another note, happy 123rd birthday, Fernando Pessoa. You are one of my literary heroes. (More on Pessoa next time I post.)

Cascais - A Day at the Beach

2011-06-11T17:56:00.000-04:00

It's a holiday weekend here in Portugal. Friday was Camões/Portugal day and Monday is the Holy Ghost's Monday.

I'm pretty sure you've heard of the Holy Ghost. But if you don't know Camões, he's the nation's most famous poet. He wrote some amazing things, but his obra prima was Os Lusíadas, which is an epic poem, much like Virgil's Aeneid or Homer's Iliad and Odyssey.

If you want a reason to love Camões, here's my #1: While living in China (after running away to not pay his debts) he was working on Os Lusíadas and was shipwrecked near Cambodia on his way to answer some accusations. Get this: he managed to save his manuscript, but not his lover. That, my friends, is dedication.

On that note, here is a statue dedicated to him:

I took this pic on Thursday when Amy Ollerton, older sister of my friend Dema Ollerton, stopped by for a few hours during a layover on her way to Rome. Good times.
Today I celebrated by going to the beach with some friends. And I made a few new ones along the way. We grabbed a train at the Cais do Sodré station and headed as far as it would go. Which puts us in Cascais, Portugal, a beautiful little city with lots of beaches. We chose the Praia dos Pescadores (Fishermen's Beach).

It looked something like this: (note: the Brazilian guy at the very end of the clip is my first mate Filipe, who needed like ten minutes of coaxing to get in the "cold" water)

Spent some time jumping off the docks. It was nothing high, but it was fun.

Can't visit Portugal without at least one day at the beach.

Praça do Comércio

2011-06-09T14:04:00.000-04:00

Update on my work: I have completed the digitalization of Alberto de Lacerda's collection Palace. It is now a Word doc (111 pages, 7,666 words). I have also located and ordered six other collections and two books about Lacerda's work. Got a few more to find, but I'm on top of things.

Update on my blog: I officially love videos. So I made a new one today, complete with commentary. I will be the first to admit that I sound weird.

Huzzah.

My First Video

2011-06-06T20:21:00.000-04:00

Today I took a day off of translating. My brain was happy for the chance to rest. I was going to go to the Cristo Rei statue across the Tagus, but I changed directions when I saw it was cloudy (I want to be able to see the April 25th bridge [the Golden Gate's twin] and Lisbon when I go).

All in all, my day included

6 hours of walking
Two rain storms (with no jacket)
98 pictures
1 leak taken in public
2 offers of hard drugs on the street
16 oreo cookies
This video of a lookout I stubled upon. Say "Olá" to Lisboa:

Sorry my $60 camera sucks, but a Canon Rebel T3i just isn't a good idea when you live out of a backpack. Although I didn't know I get sound...

You Learn a New Weird Word Every Day

2011-06-05T15:23:00.002-04:00

I've officially been in Lisbon for one week. It went by pretty fast and I got a lot of work done. I've translated Alberto de Lacerda's second poetry collection (both the second one he published and the second one I've translated) and I'm currently putting it into digital form (aka a Word doc). After that I'm not quite finished, but you get the idea.

I've also been working to find Lacerda's other books. Turns out there are a lot more than I had previously imagined. I knew there were four for sure, and I had found a few others in library catalogs, but according to my newest sources there are at least ten collections of poetry, and that's not counting collected-work anthologies or his prose. I know a few are out of print and some others are all but gone, but I think I can get my hands on a few of them.

That's a lot of writing for not having a picture. Here:

Francisco Sá Carneiro Square

Who is Francisco Sá Carneiro, you ask? Well, apparently he founded the Social Democratic Party in Portugal in 1974 (which, interestingly, was also the year of the Portuguese Carnation Revolution...whatever that means). He was elected Prime Minister of Portugal but after less than a year he died in a plane crash. Conspiracy theories abound. All I can really say is that my favorite part is the floating head in front of the workmen statue.

The same day I took this picture I walked down the picturesque Avenida Gago Coutinho (say that five times fast). Here's proof that it's picturesque:

Anyways, the other thing that I've been doing is learning continental Portuguese. Let me tell you, it's an adventure. Throw in the facts that a good chunk of my new-found friends are Brazilians and the people I live with are from Cabo Verde (see previous post) and I've got all sorts of dialects bouncing around in my head.

For those of you who don't know, I learned Portuguese as a missionary in Goiás, Brazil. I was there for two years exactly (July 14, 2004 - July 14, 2006), during which time I had contact with blue-eyed English-speaking people for all of 21 weeks (out of 104). In case you were wondering...

Goiás is here:

and it looks like this:

Seriously.

I could (and just might) fill books with head-sized-spider-finding, cockroach-hockey-playing, dengue-fever-getting Brazil stories, but I digress. Let's talk about language.

My personal verdict is that continental Portuguese is prettier and more formal than Brazilian Portuguese, but it is also much harder to understand, much like the difference between Spanish Spanish and Spanish in the Americas. Here, s = sh, they stop saying a word about one third of the way through it. Plus, they don't speak as loud (they're much more introverted). But all in all I enjoy it, even when I'm a little lost, and my language skills are on the up and up (for example, I remembered the word for onion the other day). (It's cebola.)

Instead of telling you all the vocabulary that is different, I'm going to make you a non-comprehensive list of words that are different in Portugal than they are in Brazil. You're on your own for pronunciation. Here goes nothing:

English            Brazilian       Continental Portuguese
Cell phone           Cellular             Telemóvel
Refrigerator        Gelador             Frigorífico
Fire                         Fogo                  Lume
Bus                        Ônibus              Autocarro

Ok, ok, it's not like I'm learning Chinese (go Sophie!), but when you've learned a vocabulary word and used it full-time for two years and part-time for five, change comes slow. But the look on people's faces when they figure out that I speak their language is still priceless. Even if they have no idea where I put the leftovers.

Winging It To/Through Lisbon

2011-05-30T18:53:00.000-04:00

So...I'm here. And it took me no time at all to find an awesome monument:

I didn't write down what it's for, but it was in the Praça da Estrela (Star Square) where I took a nap on a bench while I was looking for a place to sleep. Throw in not being able to sleep on a plane and the backpack I've got with me, and I was a pretty awesome homeless-looking travelling scholar

The trip over was pretty uneventful. I spent four hours in the always-beautiful Philadelphia International Airport and seven hours later I was in Lisbon. It was 8a.m. Sunday morning. I decided to go to church. I took the airport-to-Lisbon bus as far as it would go and walked a mile or three. Inside I met William, who gave me a tour of the chapel and introduced me to Paulo, who introduced me to Cleber, who helped me look for a place to sleep after the meeting.

Cleber is pretty cool, just got a new job, is roughly my age, and helped me till we found one place. It was a crappy hostel that cost too much. The only room smelled like smoke, had no view, and was on the top floor in the far corner of an unlit hallway. Don't get me wrong: I'm no wuss (I survived undeveloped Brazil for two years), but I figured I could do better. So I let Cleber be on his way, pretending that I liked the place so he wouldn't feel bad, and set off on my own. I got to know

I didn't find anything I like, but I did find an awesome restaurant:

It was closed. So I met up with Paulo near the church and he and I bartered with an old lady named Rita. We couldn't get her down to €12/night for three weeks, so I hitched a ride to another church member's home. So I'll be sleeping in the at Francisco and Fátima Bettencourt Tavares's house for the next three or four weeks. They offered it for €40/week and I offered them €50. They accepted.

Both Francisco and Fátima are both from Cabo Verde (Cape Verde, which is an island country off the Northwest coast of Africa). He was born in Praia on the island of Santiago and she was born on the island of Fogo. Here:

The reason they speak Portuguese in Cabo Verde is because the Portuguese took over and used the country as a port while sailing around Africa. On an unrelated note, shout-out to my cousin, Kyle, who is there right now. For you to get a feel for what it's like there, the capital is Praia, which means Beach, and three islands go by the names Fire, Salt, and Angry. Pretty awesome.

She's in her late 30s, he in his early 40s (I think); they are both talkers, which is nice because I'm still getting back into thinking in the language; she works keeping house for a doctor/lawyer couple and he works at a furniture place; they've been married for about three years; they make sure to keep up on their soap operas; and, in short, they're both very accomodating and I love them already.

After walking and walking all day I was pretty beat. So I went to sleep. Woke up today at noon, still tired. I translated about 40 pages of Alberto de Lacerda's book Palace, which I brought with me, checked out options for what I'm going to do during/after Lisbon (all up in the air still, except for a certain festival in Spain the second week in July that is still very much in order), and headed out to get to know the part of the city where I live.

Oh, I live at Calçada dos Barbadinhos (Sidewalk of the Little Bearded Ones...fitting) #70. I don't know what neighborhood I'm actually in, but I'm somewhere in between Alfama and Bairro Lopes. Here's a link to a map for you:

http://maps.google.com/maps/place?ftid=0xd1933f35d74b4cf:0xa30bc9b3ea6b7d4&q=Cal%C3%A7ada+dos+Barbadinhos+70,+Lisboa,+Portugal&hl=pt-PT&sll=38.720395,-9.122182&sspn=0.006295,0.006295&ie=UTF8&ll=38.724509,-9.131806&spn=0,0&z=16

The river you can see on the map is the Tejo. All I know is that it's really pretty and Lacerda wrote a number of poems about it. My neighborhood is pretty cool. I tried going to the Cemitério do Alto de São João, but it was closed, so I decided to walk off the map. Literally, I walked until I was off of the Lisbon map that I have. Here's what the end of my world currently looks like:

Looks like a great and spacious building to me. After walking back onto the map the only place I could find was a Chinese Restaurant whose name I won't even pretend to remember (Hun something?). I got the Massa Chinesa com Três Sabores (What three flavors you ask? I don't know. One was chicken, though). If nothing else, the setting was worth seeing:

I hope you like pandas.

Portuguese Coca-Cola. Not as good as American and definitely not as good as Mexican.

So my first un-completely-lost night in Lisbon was a success. And to top it all off, INT beat PAL 3-1 in the Italian Cup. Take that, PAL. Next time try not wearing pink jerseys.

Anyways, I leave you with two pics I took on my walk home:

Random street. Actual color (I didn't shoot it in Sepia).

Random government building.

I forgot to buy toothpaste.

Master Calvin

2011-05-24T08:55:00.000-04:00

So, I graduated on Sunday. It was pretty awesome. I didn't feel like going to Commencement, but I did go to the English department Convocation. Pretty straight forward. Walked in, sat down, listened, crossed a stage, shook a hand, sat down, listened, ate, and left.

Only six of the Master's degree candidates walked: three of us poets (Ashley, Lisa, and Yours Truly) and three of the MA students. We got first-row seating and when we originally came into the Metcalf Auditorium Ashley (who was leading everyone) took a wrong turn for a second. It was hilarious.

So, yeah, I have a master's degree. Pretty crazy. Pics:

We did a lot of clapping.

As Lisa put it, "Mormon boy meets Jewish girl.The rest is history."

Couldn't resist.

The random man we asked to take our picture has a hard time with point-and-shoot cameras from Walmart.

An amazing, terrible, and amazingly terrible picture of me and Ross. We have hat hair. Master's hat hair.

The traditional Olsen heel-click pic. I love me some 236 Bay State Road.

Trying to figure out how to wear one's master's hood. And still don't get the danglies on the arms.

I figured it out. They don't call me Master Calvin for nothing. Harry Potter, anyone?

I Googled Me

2011-05-16T19:22:00.000-04:00

My pet dinosaur, Morgan, in a pic you'll find by following the links I've included.

So my friend Jenne the other day said that she Googles herself from time to time. She said that she does it to make sure she doesn't need to "do any damage control."

Honestly, I have no idea what she means. But I Googled myself anyways. Not a whole lot comes up unless you know what you're looking for (which, surprisingly, I do). So I thought I'd take a second to share with the world a few places I've carved out a niche for myself on the internet.

Here's what I'll be doing in about two weeks (click on me, bottom left):
http://www.blogs.bu.edu/world/2011-global-fellows/

Here's the collaborative blog I'm part of. (You can ask what days I'm not a big fan of).
http://www.thesevenblog.com/

Here's my hilarious bio for the first poetry reading I ever gave (I'm at the bottom. Best for last):
http://www.breakwaterreadingseries.blogspot.com/2011/01/friday-january-21-brookline-booksmith.html

Here's the first poem I ever published. (Two disclaimers: (1) it sucked in the first place and has become beautiful, and (2) they screwed with my line breaks [To use an understatement, Inscape is a joke].)
http://inscape.byu.edu/fall2009/poetry/olsen_elk.php

Here's a dating blog contest I took 3rd place in. (Shoulda won. Politics.) Julia now writes full-time for the website, and I'll admit that her stuff is good.
http://www.mormontimes.com/article/2112/Blogger-Brawl-Calvin-Olsen-v-Julia-Shumway

I wonder if any of these will be around forever. Probably.

Chad is Married.

2011-05-15T14:01:00.000-04:00

Nuff said. Pics:

Groomsmen

Yay, Aunt Tammy!

Chad and Kristy Olsen. I may never get used to saying that.

I got the pre-kiss but saved you from the actual thing.

Kristy made that dress herself. And, um, I made Chad's suit.

Baby brother hug. Kid is huge.

Lee likes to rock the party. And if none of y'all have eaten Hmong egg rolls, you haven't lived.

Sacramento LDS Temple

I can't tell you how happy we were when pictures were done.

KC, Gage, Chase, and Lee. All still single. For some reason.

Esto Perpetua: An Olsen/Anger Production

2011-05-14T13:15:00.000-04:00

A book I helped make. Read on.

Over the course of the semester each of us poets were randomly assigned an artist from the visual art MFA program. We all made collaborative projects with our artists, and last Monday (May...9th) they unveiled their final projects and we got to see them.

My artist was Kyle Anger. How about that for the coolest name in the freaking world? Here's a very poor picture of both of us:

Kyle decided to use a few of my Idaho poems and he responded to them with ink prints that illustrated/interpreted/made awesome the subject matter I had chosen to include in my work. He made the cover out of dirt (dirt! so rad) and each of the poems is followed by one or two of his ink prints. Anyways, here's the pics I took of it.

"Geography"

"Amalgamated Sugar Company"

"Cascade"

"Timber"

"Lightning"

Esto perpetua, my beloved Idaho.

Low Brow, High Brow

2011-05-14T13:01:00.000-04:00

Layover in the Denver airport. Time for today's second update.

Last Thursday (May…7th) was my low-brow/high-brow entertainment day in Boston.

In the morning, I was bored and sick of thesis-ing, so I sent out a mass text to see if anybody wanted to go to the Red Sox game with me. Two church friends answered the call/begging for company: Brad Huggins and Mary Nielson, two of my favorite people.

My boy Dustin Pedroia

I wanted to hit up games for all of the professional sports teams before leaving. I’ve been to a Celtics game and a Bruins game, but not a Sox game. Technically the Patriots are New England and not Boston, so they don’t count. Which is good, because ticket prices are through the roof and their stadium is built in the middle of nowhere.

I bought a flat-bill hat (my first) and Brad and I got some $7 Polish sausages (so good) while we waited for Mary. Mary decided it was a good idea to drive (it’s not) and had walked in the wrong direction for about half a mile, but she we got in just in time.

Polish dog in a flat-bill

Our tickets were legit. We were behind home plate about, oh, 25 or 30 rows back, which meant that we were under the overhang. Being under the overhang is a great idea, especially when the game has a two-hour rain delay after the second inning. Lucky for us, it didn’t get rained out completely. Anyhew, we beat the Minnesota Twins 4-0 and it was a grand afternoon.

An easy reason to make fun of baseball

The game was over at 6pm, then it rained pretty hard. I took the T home, showered, changed into my dress clothes, and headed to the Boston Symphony Orchestra. I probably should have taken a date, but it was easier to take TJ, who is prettier than most girls anyway. We met there.

Warming up

So I guess a cool rich dude decided it would be philanthropically assertive to subsidize Boston Symphony Orchestra ticket prices for patrons under 40 years of age. I decided to take the cool rich dude up on his offer, so our seats were $20 and legit. They played Berlioz’s Romeo et Juliette. The music was beautiful, with a full orchestra and a solid 80 or 90 person choir. I’m glad I remember some French, because the English translation they had in the program sucked (TJ thought so, too, I’m not just uppity).

My surroundings at the Symphony

Anyways. We were in like the third row, but since the stage curves we were just about as close as you can get. I could have stood up and bit the violinist playing in front of us, and I made a game of staring angrily at the second-chair cello-ist (is that a word?) who could just barely see me out of the corner of his eye. I don’t know if I threw him off, but he noticed me a few times. Hilarious.

Random old dude who did nothing but came out and got some flowers anyways.

After that we went next door to the Symphony Eat to watch the Celtics game and, well, eat. Then I went home and went to sleep.

Good day.

My Friend Tiff and My Baby (No Relation, Fortunately and Unfortunately)

2011-05-11T16:10:00.000-04:00

It happened a few weeks ago (April...19th I believe), but my dear friend Tiffany Jones came to see me for a day. I took her to a few sweet places, including the Holocaust Memorial near Quincy Market—powerful to say the least—and as usual, the freedom trail. Here's my favorite picture from the trip:

So that post has been waiting to happen for a while. Tiff's on her mission in Washington, D.C. now and who knows when the next time I'll see her is? Not too worried about her, though. I’ve been so busy lately it’s not even funny. Ok, it’s kind of funny now that it’s passed.

Who would have thought that finishing up your one-year masters program early would be so much work? Not this guy. Here’s the beautiful thing I created over the last eight months:

I swear it looks just like me.

So, yeah, my thesis has been approved by two of the most (perhaps the two most) famous and decorated living poets in America and is officially in the hands of the Boston University Graduate School of Arts and Sciences. Took a lot out of me, but I’m done.

I turned the thesis in on Monday, and yesterday I didn’t really know what to do with myself, so I went to campus after waking up and compiled all of the translations I did. For my translation course I needed to translate five to seven poems for my final project. When all was said and done, my translation of Alberto de Lacerda’s poetry collection, Exile, weighed in at 91 pages. That’s a little more than twice as big as my thesis. Talk about a project. I loved doing it, and I’ll spend a lot of my time in Europe translating the other book of his that I was able to get my hand on.

So I’m done with my first shot at grad school. Getting good vibes that my grades will rock, and I’m off to Europe on the 28th.

End.

One Month Later

2011-04-27T23:20:00.000-04:00

Been a while since I updated. I'm sure some of this will be repeats from things I talked about before, but I don't care.

First things first: a map. One month from tomorrow (the 28th) I will be leaving Boston for here:

Boo ya Iberian Peninsula. I received a Robert Pinsky Global Fellowship. I'll be doing some translating, some out-of-print document location, and a bunch of sight seeing. I'ma start in Lisbon, then move to northern Portugal, then hit Madrid, (hopefully) run with the bulls in Pamplona, spend a few days in the tiny, tiny country of Andorra, then Barcelona. I pulled strings to fly out of Rome, so Italy is on the list as well. I'm half tempted to put a change of clothes and a camera in a backpack and just wing it for ten weeks, but we'll see. To use an understatement, it's gonna be epic.

That up there is a fancy tilde-denominated section break, if I do say so myself.

Tonight after our weekly student-only poetry workshop Danielle Dobson and I went to Snappy Sushi to eat some, well, snappy sushi. She told me her tradition is to get a few things that sound disgusting. I highly approve of that idea, so we got two: octopus and sea urchin. Octopus didn't taste like much and I kinda thought it was fun to eat (really gummy). She wasn't a fan of the texture. And sea urchin, well, that's somethin' else. Basically, it looks like crap and tastes like the ocean smells when it's at its worst. In other words it's highly disgusting, but totally worth trying because now I can say I ate sea urchin and I never have to do it again. We washed it down with lots of ginger and then got ice cream.

Yet another sweet section break brought to you by the shift key and its partners.

So...since all but shaving my head a few months ago, I have decided that I want to try growing my hair out for a year. I've trimmed my neck once or twice (gotta do that) but that's kinda it. It's to the point where I have to deal with it, which I'm not a fan of, but it also wings around the back of my trusty BSU cap (Go Broncos) so I'm a little bit okay with it. I haven't grown my hair out long enough for it to be curly for a while, so we'll see how long it lasts. Maybe I'll tell people that I want to grow it out long enough to be able to donate it. That makes it charity (which never faileth). I'm also thinking about not shaving while I'm in Europe, which will make me look amazing by the time I get back. I'll be an all star.

I think this tilde thing is gonna be my new thing for a while.

I'm nearing the end of my semester, and consequently nearing the end of my time at BU, which is absolutely insane to me. It's amazing how fast time passes, but I'm ready to not be super-worried about writing and school for a little bit. I've compiled everything that will be going in my thesis, and I've revised about 15 of the 35-40 pages to the point that I'd like to. I have met one-on-one with both of my professors now, which is probably something I should have started doing before the last two months of my program, but I think it's for the best. A few Sundays ago I dropped by Robert's house (I still am amazed that I kick it with Robert Pinsky...and I'll never get sick of name dropping) after church to go over a few poems. It was a good experience. I met his cat, Bobo, who is a beautiful but sheddy animal. We chatted for a while and then went over three of my poems. As usual, he had some great insight. He told me that he finds that one of my characteristics he sees in my poetry is deflection. He said that I deflect seriousness with my wit, which might be more true in my life overall than I'd like to admit. Either way, I did write down my favorite thing he said word for word (mostly). He told me, "My reaction to your work is always admiration, followed by a burning desire to force you to be more serious." I took both as compliments.

I have a feeling you'll get sick of the tildes well before I do.

So, yeah, things are progressing nicely. Chad gets married two weeks from this Friday, I taught my last day of class with my creative writing kids this afternoon (we acted out their one-act plays: hilarious), I rocked my second-ever poetry reading last night at the Boston Playwrights' Theater (hooray for the Writers at the Black Box series and my 25+ friends who came just to see me), I can almost bench 2/3 of my weight again (boo surgery), my thesis is getting where it needs to be, and I have no freaking clue what I'll be doing with my life come August 7th. But I'll burn that bridge when I get to it.

Life is good.

East Coast

2011-03-23T23:54:00.003-04:00

So much has happened since I wrote last. I didn't cover much or any of Mom's visit, so here's some bullet points:

We roadtripped in Massachussets. First we went to Salem with Melanie. We saw the House of Seven Gables, the birthplace of Nathaniel Hawthorne, the Phippen House (I'm descended from Phippens, but the gov't owns the house as part of the city of Salem, so we didn't go in), the memorial built for the 17 people who were convicted of practicing witchcraft in Salem and hung (or pressed to death), and some cool houses.

We roadtripped North. Mom wanted to visit Joseph Smith's birthplace in Vermont, and I wanted to see if Maine exists, so we rented a car and went on a roadtrip. First we went up the coast of Maine. We saw Portsmouth, Rockport, Rockland, and some other places. The best lighthouse was Nubble Light in York, ME. We visited Bowdoin College in Brunswick, where we found the only gargoyle in the state of Maine and visited the arctic museum. After some good time in Maine we decided to try and make it part of the way to VT. So we took off heading west. It started to snow really bad in the White Mountains of New Hampshire, so we stopped at this place called the Town & Country Motor Inn Resort. The old guy at the desk talked and talked about his old days in Boston and the place was actually really nice. When we woke up we heard about the tsunami that hit Japan. Keep praying for those people. We woke up and drove to Joseph Smith's birthplace right by Sharon, VT. We had the place to ourselves other than the nice missionary lady that gave us a tour. It's quite the place and the obelisk is gorgeous and has an incredible how-I-got-here story.

Nubble Light - York, ME

The only gargoyle in the state of Maine - Bowdoin College - Brunswick, ME

My favorite inuit artpiece.

We roadtripped South. The day after we got back from VT we piled in a car with Allison 1 and Mel and went to Newport, RI to look at some mansions. The mansions were freaking huge. Some people just have too much money. My incision was acting up by the end, but I couldn't not go see The Breakers (one of the mansions). The gate and the inside reminded me of the Palace of Versailles, which it turned out to have been based off of. The billiards room was the coolest. Absolutely crazy.

The Breakers

Captain Morgan pose in front of the awesome tiger-killing-crocodile statue

Allison 1, Me, and Melanie in RI

We stayed in Boston. Mom's last day here I took her to Bartley's for my Boston hamburger experience. She got the Oprah and I got the Viagra (best burger in Boston, so far).

Now Mom is home and I miss her. Especially when I had to do my own dishes. I'm glad she came. Totally saved my butt.

Since Mom left I've done even more. More bullet points!

The opera that Robert wrote had its American debut. He got me two free tickets to the full dress-rehearsal the night before it opened. Danielle Dobson came with me. It's called Death and the Powers: The Robot's Opera and was all sorts of craziness. There were robots controlled by MIT people who look exactly like you'd expect MIT robot-controlling students to look like (geeks), a part where the poor and starving attack the main character's daughter (it was a total zombie-esque scene and really well done), and even a man that sang super high and sounded like a woman. All in all I'd say that the words were fantastic and the music was just okay. But overall it was a good time.
I went to Boston Restaurant Week. Essentially, it's a week when restaurants make special menus so that you'll go try their stuff. Nishan, Rich, Daniel, Darin and I went to an upscale steakhouse called Mortons. It's down on the waterfront. The waiters all wear tuxedos and the cheapest steak we were shown was $68. Enter restaurant week: big chef salad with anchovies, filet mignon with broccoli and mashed potatoes, and desert. All for $35. It was the ultimate man night.
I went to Block Island, RI. Block Island is a tourist trap about an hour (by ferry) off the coast. It was me, Nishan, Danielle, Mel, and Dianne. Turns out it was still off season, so the place was deserted. Lucky for us we're all pretty chill, so we made an adventure of it. We walked around till we found a guy to ask for directions. He sent us to the grocery store (only thing open) where we got some food. Danielle found a number for a guy who rents out cars, so he came and picked us up in a Buick and we did some paperwork. Then we went all over the place. We walked out to the North lighthouse, had a picnic on the beach, skipped rocks, visited the anti-climactic "painted rock", checked out the South lighthouse, walked down to the bottom of the cliffs, and went to opening night at the one soon-to-be-open restaurant. We also found a human bone and talked a bunch about how much living there would be like an episode of The Twilight Zone. Dianne is a great photographer and got it all documented really well. Overall it was a blast.
Rich, Nishan, Reed, and I went to Joshua Tree to watch the BYU game the other night. My bracket is so freaking screwed up (freaking Rick Pitino), but BYU is doing pretty well. As usual, I am happy that we win but don't care when we lose. Jimmer's pretty amazing though. If we beat Florida (not a chance) I might root for us for a game. Don't cross your fingers.
I saw a racoon in Allston the other night. That was cool.
Last night Dan called me up and told me that he had discounted tickets to the Bruins/Devils game at the TD Garden. His roommate was supposed to come but had bagged out. I'm busier than I ever have been in my life, but I really like hockey. So I went to the game with Dan. Dan's from New Jersey, so he was in a Devil's jersey. The guy behind us gave him so much crap. It was hilarious (to me). The Bruins won 4-1 and I was a happy camper. Although there were no fights, which was super disappointing. After the game I had to pee, so I went into the bathroom where there were lines to every stall. The guys there were so drunk but they were making fun of each other and it was so funny. My favorite was the jab at the guy that had his hand up on the wall and the dude that suggested we unzip our pants early so that we saved some time. Gotta love hockey.

So, yeah, that's an update. More has happened but I think that's the big stuff. I'll try uploading pics again later; the computer is being stupid as usual.

As Nacho Libre would say: My life is good. Real good.

How to Have Your Appendix Removed

2011-03-08T18:38:00.000-05:00

Check it out!

Isn't it beautiful?

So, last week I got my appendix taken out by Dr. Hackford at St. Elizabeth's Medical Center near my house. Sunday night I went to bed around midnight with some pain in my stomach. It wasn't like a stomach ache, but actual pain. That never happens. So I decided to sleep it off. At 2:30am I woke up and it still hurt, but a lot of the pain had moved down right above my belt on the right side.

I got up to get a drink of water and the thought popped into my head Maybe I have appendicitis. So I got on WebMD.com (never fails) and looked up the symptoms. I had all of them except a fever, and I don't really get fevers, so I decided to call Melanie, since she lives the closest and is a nurse. While I was waiting for her, I got bored. So I made my bed, tidied up my apartment, and paid my rent downstairs. Then I got in Mel's car and we drove up Beacon Street and then down Washington Street to St. Elizabeth's.

The guy at the emergency room door looked bored and kinda bummed when I walked under my own power. I told the lady at the front desk that I thought I had appendicitis and gave her my insurance stuff. A few minutes later a large, scary nurse came out and took me in to question me and take my temperature, etc. Our conversation went like this (she talks first, then we switch off):

Do you smoke?
No.
Drink?
No.
Never?
Never.
Ok.

Little did I know that I would have that conversation 800,000 times before they ripped out a part of my body and let me go. So they gave me a bed and Melanie came in and sat with me till 7am when she knew when my surgery would be (she's a trooper). The next lady came in and we had this conversation (same format as before, with her talking first):

Do you smoke?
No.
Drink?
No.
Never?
Never.
Recreational drugs?
Haha, nope.
What do you do?
I play basketball.
Oh.

She was my favorite. Later a girl doctor came in and poked me a bunch and then set me up to go get a CT scan. One of the sweetest movies ever, The Patriot, was on TV, but I didn't get to watch hardly any of it because the doctors and nurses would all come in right as it started up and ask questions and poke and prod and then they would leave right as the commercials started. Then the next one would come in right as the commercials ended and stay till the next commercial break. So I saw Mel Gibson be sad a few times and wave a flag. Still good, but not what you want from The Patriot.

Next I went in for my CT scan. I like that they call it a "cat scan". My radiologist's name was Jaime and she was a few years older than me and had some cool piercings in her right ear. She told me that I would need to fill my bowels with dye so the cat scan could see my innards. There were two options. Option 1, I could drink the dye, wait for two hours and let my appendix throb, and then get the cat scan. Option 2, she could "fill me up in reverse."

Being the adventurous type, I went for Option 2. Now Jaime is the woman that knows me better than any woman on Earth. She filled me up backwards and we talked about her 5-month-old and how funny it was that there's a balloon at the end of the tube she was using to keep it in place. I didn't feel much (I'm good at relaxing) so it wasn't as horrendous as I thought it would be (given, I don't ever want to do it again, but you know what I mean). The cat scan made lots of cool noises and I watched the green lights spinning around and around.

Then we were all done, she drained me (forward?), and then I got a new hospital robe, which was shorter. Sexy. Jaime wheeled me back to my room in the ER and I asked her if I could see the pictures. She told me that they'd show me later, but we were buds, so she said she'd see what she could somewhat-illegally do. A few minutes later she came in with a CD and told me that it had the software I needed to see my guts and to hide it with my stuff so they didn't take it away or charge me for it. So I gave it to Mel and she put it in her purse for safe keeping.

Then a new doctor came in. He was a few years older than I was, too, and didn't like to make eye contact. He showed me my guts and saw that my appendix was blocked halfway down instead of at the opening where it hits my intestine. He said that was different but that if he had been told that I was young he would have treated the symptoms and set me up for surgery without having ordered the CT scan (toss up...I never would have met Jaime, but I never would have been filled up backward either). So he set up my surgery for noon and left Mel and I to the closing credits of The Patriot.

Mel left and a few hours later I was wheeled up into the recovery area. They took my glasses and my iPod, so I was bored and blind so I asked Carol (my nurse) for a urinal and something to read. She gave me the urinal first. It looked like a wide-mouth water bottle and I filled it up almost to the brim (but didn't drink any). Then she could tell that I was bored and brought me one of those stupid celebrity magazine. I gave her my best I'm-not-an-idiot-,-are-you-? look and she laughed at me and went to find something. She came back with an outdated Time Magazine. I read it cover to cover and right as I was finishing one of my doctors came to meet me. He looked and sounded exactly like Jeff Bridges. Unfortunately, I was not in a movie, but it was still awesome.

Jeff Bridges-Kinda and I had the smoke/drink conversation. Carol and I had it. Then some new guy that was really cool but didn't stay long asked me all the same questions. Then I met Dr. Hackford who looked very extinguished. He asked me all the questions and then poked me harder than anybody else had poked me. Then he drew a line on me with his pen and said "Ok. Let's go." So they wheeled me into the operating room and gave me some gas and told me to breathe.

Next thing I remember is Carol's voice asking me if I can wake up. It took a long time, and I was really mad that she kept asking me if I could roll left when I just wanted to sleep. Eventually I came out of it. It was 4pm. I stayed there for a while until I wasn't quite so groggy and then they sent me to my room. I got the window side.

My roommate's name was Carl. He was 32 and had been in the hospital for a long time. He had something wrong with his large intestine that nobody under 50 ever has and instead of following protocol and removing the entire whatever-it-was they only took out half. But he was still sick and knew a few doctors here in Boston who told him to come here and work with a specialist. So he did. He hadn't eaten in like 9 days and was set to get a pick, which is, as far as I gathered, a giant IV that fills him with milkshakes or something.

Then I had visitors. First Kelly Welch, Katie Thornton, and Austin Walters came to visit me. They had just come from FHE and had missed me. It was sweet to see them and I learned how much visiting someone in the hospital really does help their spirits. Then I called Mom. She was on her way to take care of me. I told her not to, but I'm really glad she did. Then I watched the Bruins game. There were lots of fights, which made me feel better. I did my best to not get riled up and I resisted the urge to throw off my IV and start punching Carl. Resisting that urge was the hardest thing about surgery.

Then I texted Allison Mitton and asked her to come get my keys and then go to my house and get my iPod charger so I could continue playing Solitaire for hours. So she stole a car from one of her roommates and did just that, but it was late so the nurse gave her a hint that it wasn't a good idea to stay long. How rude. I am thankful for good friends. Huge, huge, HUGE blessing. I got calls, texts, and emails from worried people and Chelsea Ashton had some chocolate covered pirate-themed brownie suckers sent to my house from Sheri's Berries. Hooray for good people.

Then I kinda slept. Every two hours Carl's machine would start beeping so he could get more medicine. It would wake me up and I had to pee every time, and getting out of bed was a process (the urinal was fun, but not that fun). It felt good to get up, though, and my calves were really sore from the little air-filled braces they put on me during surgery and recovery that squeezed my legs every few seconds so I didn't get a blood clot (not worth it).

Then it got light. I asked the nurse for breakfast. When it came we had to convince the lady that I was Calvin and Carl was Carl. Nobody really wrote down that I was at the window, so they just assumed the food was for him since they had seen him for a while. I kinda felt bad when one of the nurses came in and handed him a menu and told him that he was allowed to eat and I had to tell her that I was Calvin. Then the brunette doctor I didn't remember very well came in and told me that I was free to go whenever I wanted. Mel was picking up Mom at the airport so I decided to try and get dressed. When I was mostly done they showed up and I slowly made my way out of the hospital.

So now it's been a week. My cut (seen above) is healing nicely. I'm not allowed to lift anything heavier than 15 pounds for a 4-6 weeks and I have to take it really easy, but I can eat whatever I want. I'm officially out of Percocet so I am enjoying my Advil and this morning I finally put on my own socks. Mom is here for another week since she had limited flight options for medical emergencies. It's been nice to have her here and she's seen some of Boston, but our adventures can wait since this post is forever long.

So, yeah. I am now appendix-less and trying to get back into the swing of things.

The End.