Guess what I did for the third time in Barcelona?

Busy, Busy, Busy.

I finally was able to figure out when my exams were, no thanks to my professors. AND I had my first discussion group for Art History on Friday, I can’t say I participated very much but I was at least able to understand-I’ll take it! I also I have had no issues finding the movies for my cinemas class online, so far, but this at least gets rid of the time conflict I had with Art History. Ultimately, I am enjoying all my classes even if it is just because they are esthetically pleasing, movies and pretty pictures. I have to say it is pretty cool to be watching the older films that are considered just landmark works, no just in Spain but globally, and I had no idea they existed.
And phew, I finally got my summer course at UMass Boston figured out. I had to get my ID number online by entering in Birthday, last name, SS#. The problem was, I didn’t give them my social security number, if there is anything my father taught me it’s not to give that shit out. Now, apparently I do have to do it sometimes, which I learned when I would just leave that part of job application blank, I mean I’m not going to get my social security anyway, but I guess it can go a little to far. Regardless, I finally got my ID number after e-mailing the silly woman four times and calling once, I guess some universities are as bad with communication as my uni in Barcelona.
I’ve also become much more European—I bought a futbol! (a.k.a. a soccer ball, pshhhh, for all you americanos). I even have sports injuries! I got burn/scrape on my big toe because the usual venue is in my room with out shoes on. On Tuesday Chris and I took a loooong bike ride to good place to play where there aren’t a lot of people, and I again I didn’t have shoes on—ouch!—and I also fell flat on my ass so there was a nice ripe bruise there, ahem. I’ve already ripped the ball up, not that it was exactly high quality. The guy tried to sell it to me for 10 euro, and I already knew I could get a prettier (and better quality) one for eight euro, so I said “No, gracias” and walked out. Of course he said “Better deal for you pretty lady, eight euro”, and I did the same thing until he asked me how much I wanted to pay… “Cuatro (Four) euro”, he said no, seven and then gave to me because I started to leave again. Look at me! I don’t know whether this surprises you or not, but I hate bartering. Mom and Jen know if they remember how inept I was in New York. You see, the problem is that I am incredibly cheap, or I at least love a bargain, a really good one, so I immediately low ball…too low. Anyway, I also bought a set of watercolors, my creative energies are a little cramped, but this is doing the trick even if it is the same watercolors I used when I was three.
Fatty got a package, a package full of treats. Some chocolate, SpecialK bars, saltwater taffy (gone), and best of all—COFFEE! I also did something actually productive—aside from make the most delicious salmon the other night—I did laundry! This marks the third time I have done laundry since I have been in Barcelona. Don’t throw up; I’m just being economical. Somehow I still managed to fit it all in two was loads and one dry load despite having to drag it down the stairs in my top sheet. So presently my room is still covered in laundry. I don’t use the dryer since fresh works just as well, and half the time the dryers wont dry all that I would need to shove in them. I just do towels and sheets, etc. I also cleaned my room, and I mean cleaned. You know its hard core when I though out American magazines. But, here’s the thing…I have a special visitor… MAH MOMMA’S COMIN!!! A romantic weekend in London, starting tomorrow and then fatty’s coming to Barcelona where I will expose her to all the is the beach in Barcelona.

Hasta luego queridos!

Splurge

Had my usual routine today...Historia del Cine from 9 to 11 and tried really hard not to forget my meeting with a prof at 12:30. There were all of 30 people in class this morning, of probably fifty, which isn't unusual. I learned about realism when I wasn't busy wondering at how skinny my profesor is...I swear he and Jake(the bro) are the same size.
The meeting was for the craziness that is my art history class. I met with the TA slash other professor, it's still unclear as she is called Professor Roser Bosch, but they all want to be called by their first name. I avoid it all, a 'Hey You' is quite suitable, because how the hell do you pronounce Bosch, considering all the languages going on here.... is it spanish, is it catalan, is it portuguese....? She was superly nice and I get to write a paper over that I missed. We bonded about studying abroad and art and talked about the art/ceramics/scultpure I do back at home. So the good news is I'm not overly frightened to actually participate in class.
Then we went on an excursion! Jess, Sydney, and I ran to a Tabacs (basically like a tedeschis but much more european and taboccoey), then mailed letters, euro store and a treat! I as usual am enthralled by the euro store and have to be talked out of everything, even doctor's kits. But i did get a tupperware like thing for liquid, a.k.a beach sangria. It is glorious, and doesn't it just make it look fresh and delicious! I used an orange, an apple, like a cup of OJ, shot a rum, strawberries, and a cinnamon stick. Get this, I got 1.75 euro wine instead of .75 cent wine. SPLURGE!!!!!!!!! Then I just went crazy. I took out a new sponge AND a new cutting board. HOLD THE PHONE!!

Dinner time! Love!

I miss bureaucracy?

Okay, so I just want to talk about how sassy I am. I am so sassy that my family is obsessed with me and they send fatty all sorts of treats. First of all, I was surviving off of three pairs of pants, which I know isn’t all that traumatic, but when you do laundry every two months it can get to be a bit of a challenge. I also go REPAIRED BOOTS. It’s funny how those boots make me feel less American, they just looove boots here. You are un-cool with out them, as in certainly not European at least. SO I had started to feel naked despite the numerous layers I wore like the rest of Spain. They like to wear winter coats as long as possible, and people from Barcelona would certainly not survive New England, or its winters. Pansies. But now I am free, because the Spaniards have decided to stop looking at me like I am crazy when I wear flip flops or a dress without tights. This week I went to the beach Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, then Friday, and now it’s Saturday again…but it’s a bit cloudy. If the weather isn’t nice enough for me to go to the beach and swim, then my other excuse is working out. I run to the beach then work out there (like sit-ups and push-ups) and power walk the length of the beach (Hotel Arts down to the end of Barceloneta and back), then I collapse. And of course I was wearing my bathing suit underneath, so clothes become towel and ocean becomes cool down shower. And if I am lucky my friend Christian who lives here will come too, and Ill ride his bike while he does the whole other end of the beach…it’s a lot, I’ll stick to the bike.
Despite all the class I feel like I have sometimes, I still have time to do beach, mostly because I live ten minutes from it. I finally got my class completely sorted out. It is ASTOUNDING how inept the people at the university can be sometimes, and I never thought I would miss the bureaucracy of BC and the US in general. Bureaucracy can be manipulated, despite how shitty it can be… when people plain don’t give a crap ( which can be said for bureaucracy too, I suppose) and take their sweet-ass time, nothing gets done.
Their superiors don’t care, so you can’t go above them, if you can even figure out who that ‘superior’ is. Just so you know, I took a HUGE role of toilet paper as revenge...mwa ah ah ahhh. Please note how it is as big as my head. Anywho, finally got it figured out, despite missing the first two weeks of one class because 1) They don’t post room assignments online they are on huge boards in one of the lobby, horribly organized and in Catalan, 2) No one responds to e-mail so figuring out who when and where becomes very difficult 3) They put me in the Catalan art history class not the Castellano/Spanish one and 4) they put me in a class with a time conflict, because apparently they really don’t take attendance or have functioning scheduling programs. So, I am at least interested in the topic (or what I understand of what the professor says), now that I can get to the class. It’s funny how such small accomplished make being abroad feel easier, probably because those small things can just be so difficult to get done sometimes. So I may or may not fail this art history course, but at least I finally know how to hassle Spaniards to get results, work the copying machine (since I had to copy a random person’s notes from class), and I have the balls to say “Lo siento, pero no se” (Sorry, but I don’t know) when this intense but nice professor calls on you at random.
Now, I can just come home and do some sassy origami that was sent to me, yummmmmmyyy, and decorate my room with it. Then I can go to the beach until forever, come home and make a delicious dinner—unless I am eating with Christian in which case I am not permitted to handle the pasta as I’ll wreck it ( he lived in Italy for two years so he is an expert), and reeeaadd. That has become my normal day-to-day, plus or minus amounts of beach, homework, and reading. ☺ Smelllll thosee floweerrrsss!

Besitos para todos y os hecho de menos muchisimo!

Malaga, moths, and moving

Oh, Malaga…such an interesting place. Laurel and I were SUPER pumped because it was our romantic last weekend (Laurel left Barca the Tuesday after). So, everything was romantic, including how sweaty I was after power walking all the way from my residencia to the Passeig de Gracia Renfe stop. Loco. We found also on our way there that our hotel was complete crap. The other girl we were meeting up with got there the day before and almost died of asphyxiation it smelled so bad. Then there was the fact that it was forty minutes outside of town, no small thing if you’re a student and you don’t want to pay for cabs. We spent a lot of time at the beach, and saw a ton of the town, but weren’t to down for paying for museums, as we needed to do things like eat. There was a real cool cultural fair going on at the same time (apparently Malaga wants to be the most culturally diverse place in Spain, and maybe even Europe). I bought nothing but the smells were glorious. We also got to see quite a show at the fair stage. There was quite an interesting (and fit!!!) 40 yr old man, maybe older, instructing Salsaaaaaaaaa. Very sassy. But, aside from this mans…ummmm…. intriguing pelvic thrusts, the other entertainment were the locals—of all ages, shapes, and sizes—following his directions. There was the very rouunndd boy who was working the other 9-year-old ladies. Then there was the teen that thought she was IT! but she was confused with the difference between a stripper video dancer and salsa. It was very sassy and as soon as Laurel loads the photos I’ll post it. That night we stayed chill, as the night before I slapped someone (let’s just say we are at times a bit overly careful with our purses and if we feel someone touching it we GRAB, including each other).
When we got back to our room there was someone there! Or something. I learned about laurel’s huge phobia of moths. I also learned how much noise three girls could make (ahem, even if the other two are observers) killing a moth. Don’t worry, Laurel took a video of that too but I have to edit it since my pants kept falling down since I was jumping on and off the beds and running around. The funnier part was that it disappeared and the real action was when I finally nabbed it the next night. It was very traumatic, for the moth and maybe Laurel who may or may not have peed herself. We also encountered some NAVY MENNNN, YUMMM, minus the fact that they were complete bros, and for those of who don’t know what I mean ask my Mom what a jughead is (i.e. dope). They were on the DESTROYERRRRRR NATO catching pirates, and he didn’t even get it when I said “Arrr, maty we be walking” when he asked what we were doing that night. How is he gonna catch pirates, I mean… they talk like that, right? Wink wink
We also had a special relationship with the hostel staff. They were clearly all family, we just couldn’t quite figure out what they’re roles were. There was Philippe, the little brother. He was pretty docile and sweet and always got us what we asked for… pretty much just ice, haha. Well, also a secador del pelo for Laurel and he LIED and said he had one, but it never turned up until two nights later. Oh, Philippe, how cute. Then there was Dad, and he was just a nice Daddy—super nice, opened the doors for us, and nicely told us to be quiet. Then there were to women. One cutey pa-tutey that would speak lots of Spanish with me and chat about the weather and this huge woman. The woman, we decided was a sister-in-law from Eastern Europe and that is why she was a bit colder and gruff, and HUGE, like a tower…think Julia Childs. The Bitter Brother, he was all mine. He wanted to tell us where to go (not in a creepy way) and had this running conversation with me—gleeech—about all the accents of Europe. We think he was just jealous of how darling Philippe was, and he was stuck talking to me because I was the only one that could really speak Spanish, Yayyyyy… So, now that you know about the family dynamics in the hostel, I think you can truly see how wonderful a trip it was, ahhaa.
Laurel and I caught a 3 o’clock flight and were at her place in Barca by 7-ish. Laurel packed (wahhh) while wrote a paper and we moved all of her crap to a hotel she was going to stay in for two nights with her mom, and one night with me! Now Dad, do you remember moving me into Edmonds? That’s sort of what it was like moving Laurel out of her dorm. Imagine two girls with bazillions of plastic bags, two large suitcases, a small one, and a number of full tote bags hailing a cab to go, essentially, down the street. But the hotel was glorious; I wish they had wifi so you (being my family) could stay there when you came. So we get in and Laurel checks in while I load the luggage cart-trolley thing, dropping a lot, as it’s hard to put huge heavy items on surfaces with wheels when you are also lacking a height advantage. The desk man said we could leave or stuff there and he would bring some up, we waited an hour, then we got a call in the room saying we should come down soon for our luggage, what? We also went out to a romantic dinner that night… well romantic as in Laurel bought me some pasta for moving her out and we were there with a bunch of friends who were leaving soon, too. Laurel and I watched a plethora of romantic comedies while I painted my nails and she straightened out all her luggage, including a care package for me! The spoils I got were: a hairdryer, two towels, two Tupper-ware, some plastic cups and silverware, Advil, the printer card for our university (I know four months in and I’m only now figuring it out), socks and a shirt. Laurel said our farewells over chocolate and churros with her wicked nice mom, and now we send loving voice notes to each other via bbm.

And then, yuck, ‘real life’ with classes and all.

As soon as Laurel posts photos they will be yours!!!

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HERE I FOUND IT

Per order of the queen I have found the photo of ALLLLL the crap she lugged over from the states for me. And yes mom, I also put it in the apropriate blog post, but I thought you would like for it to be at the FOREFRONT of todays 'news'. Im going to the beach, slick with SPF thirty. TAKE THAT SPANISH TOPLESS SUNBATHERS.

You asked for it.

Per order of the Princess and Queen (a.k.a Sister and Mother)