And then there were three weeks...

So then Momma Time!

I did some hardcore cleaning before, as you, washing number three in Barcelona. I pretty much spend all day Friday waiting for it to be time for me to go to the airport. We met in London and then on to Barcelona on Monday. The flight was glorious, mind you I am used to flying the cheapest of cheap economy airlines, and this time I was on British Airways. I really showed how classy I was when they offered me a sandwich and I asked if I had to pay for it, I got quite a look, but I still took advantage of the mini bottle of wine I got ‘free’. Well, duh, I ate all of the little dinner/lunch they gave me, but was still totally ready for real food at dins with Momsie. She was ready and waiting with a new friend to take our picture (the one up top) as soon as I got off the plane, so don’t worry…the trip is well documented.



That first night was amazing, yum dinner, nice clean hotel room, and TELEVISION. I don’t think you really understand what it is like not having television, and I am not even someone that watches that much television. If I didn’t take the time to load news podcasts, I would have no idea what was going on in the world, and I didn’t really start doing that until the end of March since it takes so long to download here. My contact with the outside world is NBC Nightly News, ABC World News, and Meet the Press…I might actually be more informed since it is the only ‘TV’ that is readily available. I digress… the next day we went to a gorge flower shower, apparently very famous.Mom abused her new camera while I tried to feed my Pimms cocktail to the gorilla garden statues. I’m not sure how all the 'proper' British gardeners felt about that. The next highlight was dinner and a show. The restaurant, called Sarastro, was loco, carnival/circus/theatre themed. The image only gives a preview how how much velour they really used inside. You couldn’t look anywhere without seeing some random trinket. I saw a spray-painted heal on the edge of the stairwell and little men or ballet shoes hanging from the ceiling fans. Not really little men, but that would’ve been great. Then we saw Wicked at the Apollo (I think) Theatre, it was a-m-a-z-i-n-g, despite extreme difficulty and figuring out where it was. The lack of a sense of direction, teamed with the fact that we were following my cell clock, which was an hour later, made it all very interesting. This might be Mom's favourite picture, she likes to say it looks like I am throwing up, which I might have been. We got there an hour early, but thought we were only just making it, which confused us a lot since no one else was waiting to get in when we go to the theater.

Sunday was my job to plan. Though I was very hardcore tour guide for the whole visit.There are about 10 photos like this of me (here at the palace in London) attending to my duties. I have to say, Mom did quite well keeping up with the psycho-college-traveler-pace. After some English sausage (I don’t want to talk about it, because there is a haunting image Mom took of me in the crisp, white hotel sheets, and it is horrifyingly similar. No, i will not post it on here). The tower was first on the list, and completely fascinating. We didn’t go in, but I’m pretty sure I could be an official tour guide as long as I can use the tour book and Wikipedia on my blackberry. Even though there were crown jewels there, I was far more fascinated seeing the gate from the Thames to the moat where they dropped of the people to be killed. We also saw The Globe Theatre, or a reconstruction of it. Super cool. Mom learned how nerdy I truly am in my love of Shakespeare; I try to keep it on the DL. Mom sucked me in to watching her new favorite movie that night, P.S. I Love You. I recommend it if you want to start drooling over any Irish musician you encounter, not that rare in Barcelona. Ok well, I still consider meeting two good odds.
I was much better prepared for the high-class, pre-packaged sandwich offer I got on the flight home. We were at the hotel by six and it felt great to be back in Barca air. I brought Mom to my favorite Italian restaurant, the have the best pizza. While she was here, Barca’s futbol team (a.k.a. soccer, for you gringas, as my Latin American friends call me) had it s equivalent of the Superbowl, The Champion’s League Cup. FCBarcelona has won each of the three, and I believe only possible, that it had this season. It is truly amazing to witness in a culture that is consumed by its love of this sports. The Boston fans, however intense they are, have nothing on these people. Mom and I went to a restaurant near the hotel on Carrer Princessa, Princessa 23; where they have the only nachos I will ever eat again in my life. We watched most of the game there over dinner, but finished watching in the hotel room so we would be the casualties of amateur celebratory firecrackers. Poor mom who had to leave at five the next morning had to hear all of Barcelona celebrating. Even on my walk home Thursday morning, there where people Barca jersey on and cervesa in hand.





We went to our favorite places in Barca while she was here, Caelum (the monastery pastry café), Princessa 23 (remember? The nacho place), shoe stores, and Buenas Migas on the beach< (really good veggie focaccia pizza and cappuccino). Yes, that's us in love on the beach next to all the topless sunbathers. My favorite new place we went to was El Bosc de las Fades. The same people that run the wax museum own the bar, so you can guess it’s pretty unique own the bar. As soon as you walk in you feel like you are in a forest; chilled, water running, trees and low lighting. Throughout the bar there are little surprises, near our table there was a mermaid in a small pond between two trees with a waterfall. We also went to La Sagrada Familia (Templo Expiatorio de la Sagrada Familia in catalan, Expiatory Temple of the Holy Family), the cathedral by Gaudi. I also played tour guide here. The picture you can see if of the east façade showing the nativity. Then i made her take a nice llong walk around El Raval, another barrio, or neighbourhood, of Barcelona. Raval is on the other side La Rambla from me, and known for an eccelctic culture and population (lots of immigrants and young people there). We also saw these sassy motos there. Gimme. I think Mom’s favorite is still Caelum, I will never forget how good that marzipan cake was the first time, to say nothing of the anillo galletas (ring cookies) made with anisette. We also found espadrilles, a typical Spanish style shoe. My generous Mommy—wink, wink—found an awesome pair, I pretty wear them everyday, so much that I might need a back-up pair. We also found a great guitar group in front of the cathedral, off of Via Laitana. I think we could be satisfied listen to spanish guitar or something like it for the rest of our lives. The group is called Guitarras Nocturnas, and I actually see the two guys on the left at the beach all the time. Then she left me. THE HORROR! But with plenty of coffee to last me ‘till the end of June.

Wait, what? The end of June? As in the 21 days, three weeks end of June? That’s right, my flight is in three weeks from today! Buffalo chicken orgy, here I come!

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)