Adiós, Barca

This will be brief because I'm leaving for the airport in just over a half hour and I still have to throw the last-minute things (including my computer, which, did you know it's called an ordenador instead of a computadora? I've always heard computadora and the only reason I initially understood what an ordenador was was learning French last summer) into my suitcase.


Things I have learned to do in Spain:

1. Live in a city.  The longest I'd ever spent in a city before was nine days in New York visiting Morgan and Nicole for fall break.
2. Appreciate red wine.  I have probably told you about this.
3. Appreciate visual art.  I have definitely told you about this.
4. Deal with scented laundry detergent for an extended period of time.  No, really, it was a big deal for me!
5. Not get pickpocketed.  It's an industry in Barcelona and I've avoided it entirely.
6. Understand people when they ramble at me in Spanish!  Most of it, anyway.  Of course, now I'm going to have a conversation with someone who isn't from Northern Spain and I'm not going to have any idea what's going on, but baby steps.
7. Speak like a Spaniard.  Pronouncing gracias as grathias feels a million times more natural to me than grasias, and having something approaching a regional accent makes me feel more legit about learning Spanish in the first place.

I'm having a hard time ending this entry in a way that's appropriately not ridiculous so I'm going to give up and go now.  Spain, I love you a lot and you've been great.  Here's to airports.

Manzana de la Discordia

First of all, dear readers, I cannot believe that I'm in the middle of packing right now. I've known all along that this is a really short program and five weeks isn't a lot of time and I don't want to leave Oberlin for a whole semester and that's why I'm doing this for a month instead of four, but I'm not ready to leave. I haven't explored as much of Barcelona as I wanted to and I haven't been to the rest of Spain and I can feel my Spanish getting better by the hour (and my ceceo is getting more pronounced, my eighth grade Spanish teacher Sra. González would be proud) and I do not want to leave.  But fencing awaits me at home, so away I must.

Spain won the semifinal game last night and I'm going to have to watch the final alone in my basement screaming at the TV in Spanish.

Have I told you all lately exactly how much I am in love with my art history class? And my professor? And Catalan art? No?  Okay let me explain.  I have never been an art person.  I've always been bad at museums and I've never understood art and I like it fine when it comes from art rental or from a poster sale, but music and literature have just always been more of my thing.  At least once a day for the first week and a half or so my brain would wonder who on earth let it into an art history class.  I wrote my final paper on La Celestina instead of visual art because I was pretty sure that in four weeks I wasn't going to suddenly be able to write two thousand words about art.  Then I realized that a) I know more than I think I do and b) modernism is the coolest ever.

There were three main modernist architects in Catalunya: Domenech i Montaner, Antoni Gaudí, and Puig i Cadafalch (pronounced poochy cadafall, by far my favorite name in this class).  They all lived in different parts of the city, but there's one block on Passeig de Gracia, which is the expensive street with all the designer clothes and most of the cool architecture, where all three of them designed a house.  It's called the Manzana de la Discordia.

This one time Eris rolled a golden apple labeled "to the fairest" into this party that the gods were having and Athena, Hera, and Aphrodite got into a fairly significant argument about which one of them was the prettiest.  Manzana is Spanish for both apple and city block (fun fact, that's why New York City is called the Big Apple!), so the Manzana de la Discordia is an absurdly clever mythological reference to the fact that the tree main modernist architects are all competing for attention on the same city block.  I can't get over how cool that is.

On the far left is Puig i Cadafalch's contribution, with the Arab and northern European influence, and in the middle is Gaudí's, which is called Casa Batlló.  The Battló family lives there, and I know you are all astounded by the creativity involved in that name.  (Domenech i Montaner's house is at the far end of the block and it's the least interesting of the three.)  There are two possible interpretations of Casa Battló: one is that it was inspired by St. George and his dragon killing, and that the balconies are the skulls of the girls that the dragon ate and the roof is the dragon's back, and the other is that it represents the carnival.  It's hard to see in this picture, but the facade is covered in small dots of color that look like confetti, and the balconies look like masks.

The Battló family had these friends and they were like, oh cool, that house is awesome, Gaudí should build our house so we can have one that is also colorful and fun! So they contracted him and left him to his own devices and he built them this:

They were not pleased, and Gaudí actually got fined for making a house that was too big.  It's so big that it's hard to get a picture of how cool it really is in person - from the ground it looks like a lot of stone and some iron.  Considering what they wanted - basically, a replica of Casa Batlló - it's not surprising at all that they were upset, but this is one of the few buildings in Barcelona that are more interesting on the inside than the outside.  It's basically a mini city, and it's colorful and gorgeous.  They charge absurd amounts of money to get in, so Alicia took us all and made CIEE pay for it.

My favorite part of the entire thing was the roof.

When we were still inside the building Alicia made some reference to "and the kids would play on the roof" and then we got up and we saw this and I had such extreme childhood envy.  Can you imagine growing up with this roof to play on?

Also, fun fact, George Lucas saw the statues of the soldiers and modeled the storm troopers from Star Wars off of them!

The architects who took over the construction of the Sagrada Familia for Gaudí when he died incorporated similar statues into the facades and I could keep talking to you about how cool Catalan architecture is and I haven't even mentioned Park Güell but I think you're probably done listening to me.  I could go on forever about Miró and how I almost died of awesome in the museum the other day, but we both have better things to do with our time.

Tonight: studying, packing, night in with Angela. Tomorrow: art history final, farewell party. Saturday: home... on Air Canada flight 815. hah. I am more excited than I should be by this prospect, and I have been for nearly two months.

Rebaixe rebaixe rebaixe!

Rebaixe is Catalan for rebajo which is Spanish for sale, and we're talking here about the kind of sale that even puts Black Friday to shame. In July the whole country (continent, really) costs half of what it did in June and it's impossible to walk down the street, let alone try to get into the changing room of a store. It's wonderful. This summer started out cooler than it has in years past - yeah, that changed, and also who knew that the Mediterranean is known for being humid? I definitely didn't - and combined with the crisis económica, they're doing rebaixe different this year.  They usually start with 30-50% discounts and work their way up, but most stores are taking the plunge and marking every single item in the store 50-70% off.

Yesterday I went shopping with Angela, and it was more or less hilarious.  She told me that when her daughter goes shopping without her, she never wears anything that she buys, but when she goes with her mother, she wears everything all the time because Angela is very práctica.  She looked so proud of herself every time she showed me something and I liked it.  We bought the same sweater at Mango, so now I have matching sweaters with Anne and Angela. Everyone else, start working on finding something awesome, because I need to match sweaters with you, too.

One store, Blanco, had signs saying that everything in the store was 50% off except for the new collection, and at one point Angela was looking at the new collection without realizing it.  Then she saw the sign, recoiled, and said, "Ay, ¿por qué miramos esto? ¡Estamos rebajando!" I love that there's a verb. Rebajar, to sale-shop.

We went to a sports store and she was so. excited. about showing me everything, because she thought that tents and sleeping bags were exciting and novel.  She kept telling me that we would find the fencing section, and I kept telling her that there was probably not going to be a fencing section, and then she kept telling me that no, in this store there would be! and then she asked the people who worked there and they stared at her and said no, there was no fencing section. Or skiing section, because it's July.

I'm starting to get worried about the size of my suitcase, which is a new experience for me because it's enormous. I just don't know if it's enormous enough for all of the sweaters I bought for eight euros each.  And the blue suede booties.  And the dresses.

My favorite ridiculous purchase: something called jeggings.  They are jeans that are tight enough to count as leggings.  They're actually comfy and they don't look as absurd as one would imagine and the button in front is really flat so it doesn't show through a shirt and they were ten euros and I'm going to wear them all the time when I am no longer drowning in humidity, but I still hate myself a little bit.  It's just... they're jeggings.  And in case you were wondering the ones I bought are absolutely nowhere near as horrible as the ones you find in a google image search.

This weekend: finish research paper! It's due Thursday but I want to get it out of the way. I'm writing about magic in La Celestina.  Types, consequences, and historical context.  Thank goodness for the Oberlin VPN, because I can access JSTOR!  I also have to write 500 or so words on medias de comunicación and I have to analyze and present an advertisement and I am not at all a fan of the direction that my Spanish class is going in because I do not care about advertising or any other communication media.

On the 4th of July (tomorrow!) we're going to Montjuïc - literally, Jew Mountain, which sounds like a really exciting amusement park - to watch colorful water dance to pretty music.  We are encouraged to bring cold beverages and American spirit.  We'll see how that goes.

Meta #1: Comer todo.

Dutiful readers (ha), if you recall from my first entry, my first goal in coming to Spain was to eat everything. The only thing I knew about Spanish food coming here was that tapas are considered standard Spanish fare, but I didn't know what to expect in a tapa. Sr. Abadía told us in ninth grade that the small plates were designed to put on top of a wine glass in the middle ages so that flies didn't get in, and that's as much as I knew. I had no idea what to expect from Catalan food.

In the past couple weeks I've more or less fallen in love, so I'm compiling a List Of Awesome Barcelona Culinary Deliciousness.

Pan con Tomate

During the Spanish Civil War, people only had access to bread that was gross and hard, so they decided to be geniuses and rub tomatoes on it to make it softer and easier to eat.  Now pan con tomate is also rubbed with garlic and sprinkled with olive oil and a little bit of salt, and it's a staple at my señora's dinner table.  Pan con tomate is also used as sandwich bread and you can order it at a tapas bar.  It's simple, but no one on CIEE can stop eating it.

Tortilla de Patatas

On my first night in my homestay, my señora made me tortilla con patatas.  It's basically an omelet with onion and potato, and it's another one of those simple things that I can't get enough of.  Angela has made it for dinner three times and it's always a little different - she claims it's because she uses different kinds of onions - and it's always amazing.

Paella

It's more or less impossible to talk about Spanish food without mentioning paella, a rice dish that comes originally from Valencia.  I've somehow only had it once here, but it was such an experience that I'm okay with that.  Paella is a rice dish served with seafood and veggies and sometimes meat, and you can get a paella negra, which gets its color from squid ink.  When I got it in Sitges, it came out to the table in the huge black pan pictured above.  It's the kind of food that's super filling but impossible to stop eating.  Delightful with sangría.

Patatas Bravas

Patatas bravas are fried potatoes with a spicy, creamy tomato sauce and they are invariably delicious. Whenever we go out to get tapas, or even just a couple of beers, someone orders these and then everyone else gets the same idea and soon enough, everyone has a million of them. Different places have different sauces and some of them are a lot spicier than others, and I have yet to try one I don't love.

Bizcocho

My señora is obsessed with bizcocho, which can mean many things but in this case it's a cake.  Seriously, obsessed.  She has a standard recipe that she uses and then she sometimes adds things like chocolate or lemon zest or flavored yogurt.  She never adds sugar, which I think is crazy, but it works (although I thought the chocolate one could have used a little).  It's pretty amazing breakfast food, and she leaves it in the same bowl she bakes it in so it stays moist.  She gave me the recipe (except it'll need some deciphering, what does 200 grams of flour mean?) so I'm going to make it all the time at home.  There's one in the kitchen and it's taking basically all of my willpower to not eat it all right now.

Jamón con... pues, con todo 

This picture perfectly expresses how the Catalan people feel about ham.  All the time and with everything, please.

Clara y Tinto de Verano

Clara is half beer and half Fanta limón.  Tinto de verano is half red wine, half Fanta limón.  Prior to tasting both of these things I was convinced that they would be the weirdest things in the world, but they're surprisingly delicious.  Clara is one of the more refreshing things I've ever had in my life, and tinto de verano comes in a close second.  It actually tastes a lot like sangría, but it's not as sweet.

Things to not eat in Spain: hamburgers.  They usually serve them without a bun, and if you get homesick and order one at an American bar, it'll be well seasoned and delicious but the bun will be sloppy and confused.  Butter: they don't use it here, it's always olive oil. The giant heart-shaped cookies at the bakery by your school: because you'll develop an addiction, which is dangerous because those things are cheap and absolutely incredible.

The phrase I plan to stop using with such alarming frequency: "una bola de [insert gelato flavor here] en cono, por favor."  I have no regrets about the apple gelato, though. That was incredible.

I'm still alive.

http://www.irishtimes.com/newspaper/world/2010/0625/1224273270363.html

In case you saw that story, which has been mysteriously absent from all US news media I could find, I'm okay.  Somehow almost 30 people decided it was a really good idea to run across some train tracks in front of a speeding train, 13 people died, and they actually had to use forensic evidence to find the remains of one of the bodies.  Everyone here is pretty shaken up about it and CIEE called all of us to make sure that we were still alive and now everyone is obsessed with train safety, which is probably a good thing.

I didn't get run over by a train, so my San Juan was really great! We hung out and drank wine on the beach and watched fireworks. It was insane how many little kids were around in the wee hours of the morning, setting off firecrackers and sparklers and just running around. We all ended up leaving before everyone ran into the ocean, but I'm okay with that. I think 4:30 was a respectable time to get home.

 This is why we decided to go home. We were all a little sleepy. Incidentally the girl who's sitting up isn't on our program, she's a random Spanish girl who told us in confused English that she wanted to go to America and "fix the cows, I'm studying to be vet, vet to be vet, for animals."

A lot of people took advantage of the long weekend to travel so classes on Friday were pretty empty. My Spanish class combined with the intermediate class because there were only four of us total, and we watched Volver, which I loved. I was the only person in art history, so my professor told me a little bit about Modernisme and then we walked around the Parc de la Ciutadella and she told me about buildings and statues. It was amazing.

One of the first works Gaudí ever did!

 This is Alicia, my art history professor. She's Andorran and adorable and she knows everything.

Spain won against Chile in the world cup game! But there wasn't as much celebration here as you would think. This is why:

Graffiti on the wall by the Dalí museum.  The Catalan flag with the Cuban blue triangle and star is an extremist symbol. I'm not really clear on why this sentiment is expressed in English, but it sums up the argument nicely.

To do this weekend: short essay on Spanglish, 500 words of a research paper (ie figure out what to write about for a research paper!), some grammar exercises, watch the USA game in a stereotypically American bar, and shopping shopping shopping. For one thing, Matt and Miriam have birthdays! And I really want a cookbook.

On Sunday: bullfighting? I'm super torn but it's a typically Spanish experience that I feel like I should have. I'm still on the fence.

Fiesta de San Juan!

La Fiesta de San Juan is one of the biggest parties of the year in Barcelona.  It marks the shortest night of the year, the summer solstice, and they have special cakes for the occasion.  I am all for any celebration that gets its own cakes.  Everyone gets a long weekend (except CIEE, we have class on Friday) and on Wednesday night people go crazy.  Angela has basically told me that she will be incredible disappointed with me if I'm back at any point before 6 AM.

Everyone goes to the beach and parties and then at some point everyone runs (naked) into the ocean and the metro runs all night which is a big deal because it usually closes at midnight on weeknights and then - this is what I'm looking forward to the most - everyone eats churros dipped in chocolate.

I'm a little bit in love with the idea of taking a big long stick of fried stuff and dipping it in chocolate.

CIEErs are meeting on the beach at around 10:30 and our plan is to basically do what the locals do (although most of us are bringing bathing suits.)  Angela looked in horror at my skirt and tank top, which I wore to class today, and told me that I needed to wear jeans and socks!  Because it's cold, and there are drogas.  She was trying to tell me that I might step on a needle because apparently people shoot up on the beach (she's a little paranoid) but for some reason she started miming drug use so I thought she was saying that people would try to inject me with heroin.  Which, on top of being freaky, would not be at all affected by my decision to wear socks.

So, dear readers, expect an update about what will surely be one of the more interesting nights of my life!  And rest assured that I will (probably) not be ninja-drugged on the beach.

The one thing you can say about Barcelona is that it never fails to be interesting.

Excursión is Spanish for field trip.

CIEE Barcelona is obsessed with excursiones.  We go on them all the time in class and wander around the city and listen to our professors talk about how awesome Barcelona is, and we have two planned for the whole group.  Our first was the Cava/Sitges trip, and we just got back from our second, which was advertised as French Catalonia and the Costa Brava.

Naturally everyone on the trip was convinced that we were going to be in France for the weekend. We dug out our passports, busted out the French phrase books, and tried to remember how to ask for the bathroom (ou se trouve les (las? I never know) toilettes, is how Rosetta Stone taught me) to prepare for what we thought was to be our epic French adventure.

Then we got our itineraries and realized that the we were going to spend a grand total of three hours in Colliure, a town in French Catalonia that a kid in the group described as "six inches wide."  So, if I promised you stories of my epic French adventure, here they are: we walked around and saw the beach (so pretty!) and then we got crepes and then I bought earrings.  One kid spent a full hour looking for a soap store he saw earlier and refused to listen when we told him that ALL of the stores in that town sold soap.  It was gorgeous and I loved it but it was kind of a relief when we got back to Spain and we all knew how to speak the language again.  (Apparently that was the point of the excursión. CIEE employs crafty geniuses.)

France is beautiful! Even if I can't communicate with anyone there.

After that we left France and made our way to a town called Palamós on the Costa Brava, which is adorable and tiny even if it does have some questionable architecture.  We stayed at a hotel that normally doesn't allow groups so Lizzie, our "mama duck," told us that we all had to be ninja mice and not make any noise on our way in and out of the hotel.  Needless to say that didn't happen at all, but I appreciated the metaphor.

To get to know Palamós we did a bike tour! And then it started pouring and then we jumped fully clothed in the Mediterranean Sea and it was the best thing I've ever done in my entire life.

Right before the bike tour I walked into a plant and then I bled profusely.  I have lots of painful scratches on my arm because I was mauled by a plant. I'm clearly all kinds of coordinated.

We went to see some Greek and Roman ruins and I had a hard time accepting anything the tour guide said as fact without a clear presentation of the archaeological evidence used to arrive at her conclusions. It was a problem but also kind of wonderful. I got a sunburn.

I wish we'd spent less time at the ruins because we didn't have as much time for the Dalí museum! It was incredible. He spent the last 15 years of his life planning it and it's not chronological at all and he just decided to put things where he thought they were cool. He apparently made a comparison between himself and Don Quixote, but he said that unlike Don Quixote he was capable of coming back from insanity and returning to a sane place.

That being said he used to put honey on his mustache and speak to the flies that landed there.

 Salvador Dalí was very proud of his bigote.

Today we did a pottery workshop in Bisbal d'Epordà, which is the ceramics capital of Catalonia.  We painted pots.  They are clearly extremely beautiful.  They have a really neat crackle thing going on and I really like the one I did, actually.  We also got a bigger pot that we didn't have time to paint but they all have unique crackle patterns and I love the one I picked out. And then I somehow accumulated three other little pots that other people didn't want so now I have four little pots and they're amazing.  I'm going to use them as beverage receptacles!  I'm probably going to give the bigger one to my señora as a thank you for housing me present because I have no idea how to transport it home and it seems like the kind of thing she'd really like.

Not this kind of Bisbal.

After the pottery workshop (at which I augmented my sunburn to a pretty extreme degree) we went to a little town called Pals.  The idea of a bus dropping a bunch of students off in a small town (this one was also about six inches wide) for a couple hours while we explored and got lunch reminded me a lot of American Music Abroad!  And then I got a little homesick.

I got an Agatha Christie book - Asesinato en Mesopotamia - at a store called Happy Books (I'm saving that bag forever) and I'm super excited to read it, but we have midterms next week and they effectively scheduled our weekend so that we would have no time at all to do any homework, so I'm going to be busy in the next couple days.  Still, it's always nice to have a book to read on the metro.

Also, leave me comments and let me know how much you looooove me.