Merry Christmas from Rome...

Okay so I'm a little backlogged with entries, it has been difficult to find time to write as well as stable internet connection. Here is what I have written for the past weekend. I will update when possible. Happy Holidays!

So last Saturday night my boyfriend arrived in Barcelona, officially kicking off my month long European adventure. In order to get to the airport to pick him up, I decided to save some money by not taking the 5 euro aerobus and figuring out how the train schedule works. I’d heard that you can get there eventually and only have to pay for a regular metro ride. It was ridiculously easy, which made me feel really stupid for not doing it earlier when I had to travel back and forth to the airport for my trips to Alicante, Paris and Bruges. I could’ve saved so much money! I filed this information away for the return trip and for when my boyfriend and I had to leave Barcelona for Rome and we saved some money that way at least.

When we finally arrived in Barcelona I had no idea what to do with him. We went to La Rambla and ate at KFC because he’s a big fan. I wanted to make sure that I could find something he would actually want to eat. It was weird to act like a tourist in a place that I have lived in for so long. I had to see things in a different light in order to come up with interesting things to do. It was frustrating for me to not have a bunch of places that I would want to show him. We ended up just walking around La Rambla for a bit, introduced him to the awesomeness that is goffres with gelato. We ended up getting back to the residencia at like 1:45 in the morning. I was absolutely exhausted and I have no idea how he was still functioning after so much flying without sleep. This is a little TMI but it was ridiculously difficult to share a bed with someone after sleeping alone for 3 ½ months. He passed out in two seconds and I spent a while staring at the ceiling not really believing that my study abroad experience was actually over.

On Sunday we headed up to Parc Güell, which was nice because the weather held out, and it wasn’t too crowded. I appreciated the beauty of the park more when I had someone to share it with. It was also a great feeling to be able to point things out and explain them to him, to realize all that I have learned in my time here.

After that we headed over to the Christmas market in Sant Jaume I and he bought a tiny keychain of a caga tío. I bought a caganer. You really have to google image it in order to see what it is. Basically, they are these little statues of people taking a poop. They are squatting with their pants around their ankles and when you look at the back there is a pile of poop on the floor. They make them in the likeness of any popular figure, human or imaginary. For example, I saw every player of the FC Barcelona, Obama, Spain’s President Zapatero, the Queen of England, Bart Simpson, all of the Smurfs, Hello Kitty etc. etc. etc. Traditionally, they use the little caganers that are men in simple clothing and floppy hats. I bought one of the traditional ones because I could find a small one that wasn’t too expensive. What they do is put them in the belén (manger) that most familiar make every year. At the market there are all of the things you would need to make your very own manger, but I can’t believe how people can afford to purchase all of the little details.

Then we went to the Picasso Museum because it is free after 3pm on Sundays. I was happy we could take advantage of that! I have been there before so I was a little bored at first, but then there were two special temporary exhibits that I hadn’t seen before. One was a series of photographs Picasso took in the early 1900s, apparently he was one of the first people to own a camera. The other was a mixture of erotic Japanese prints that Picasso owned and ones that he created. It was interesting that what in some circles is considered obscene, sex between animals and humans, is considered art when someone famous and talented creates it. I never realized how sexual Picasso was. One of his quotes that stuck with me was, “Art is never chaste. It ought to be forbidden to ignorant innocents, never allowed into contact with those not sufficiently prepared. Yes, art is dangerous. Where it is chaste, it is not art.” I think I have to disagree there. I’m a fan of artistic sexuality, but I think there are many other forms of interesting and respectful art that do not depict anything sexual. There is so much more to life! I guess I understand now why these prints have never been on display before. His message is controversial at best.

It took us a long time to find something suitable for dinner. I was again frustrated at how many menus were only available in Catalan. My anger was compounded by the fact that I had someone else depending on my knowledge. My boyfriend doesn’t know Spanish really, much less a word of Catalan. Every time he asked me what a word meant and I didn’t know I felt angrier with myself for having so much more to learn. Also, I realized how little I actually went out to eat while in Barcelona. I was always so concerned with saving money and had a severe aversion to going to a restaurant by myself. It can be very depressing to sit at a table alone for so long while everyone around you is engrossed in conversation with their companions. I didn’t have many suggestions on where we should eat, which made things even harder. We ended up eating at this small bar in Born that had quesadillas and interesting non-alcoholic drinks. (It was so nice to be with someone else that doesn’t drink!)

We weren’t exactly full after getting back to the residencia so I made the last of the pasta I had and we watched the Spanish version of “Moment of Truth,” a television show where people earn money for revealing embarrassing facts about themselves and their family. For example, a woman admitted that she would leave her husband if they didn’t have a child together- while her husband was right there in the audience. I was proud of myself for being able to translate what was going on.

On Monday we went to PortAventura, the amusement park about 1 ½ hours outside of Barcelona by train. It rained the entire day, which definitely sucked, but it drove most of the people away so there were no lines to get on even the most popular rides. We are both roller coaster enthusiasts so it was definitely worth it. The first roller coaster we went on goes from 0 to 90 mph in like two seconds, something ridiculous like that, and in my opinion was not the best for a first ride- but it was quite the experience. I have never ridden a roller coaster in winter! My hands were freezing as they gripped the metal bars and the rain hit our faces like bullets, but I screamed my head off in delight the entire time. The second roller coaster has 8 inversions and apparently held the record for the most inversions in the world until 2004. It was a relatively smooth ride, a great one for recovery from the first. Again, it was awesome to not have to wait more than 5 minutes for first car.

When it started to rain harder we headed inside some of the theatres to catch some shows. The first show was a bubble spectacular, this guy made all sorts of different shapes and colors of bubbles. I can only image what the guy’s parents thought when he told them he was going to be a bubble maker to earn a living. He was dressed in Chinese garb, which was strange to me because he was clearly Spanish. The park is broken down into different areas named after different places in the world. Predictably, the bubble show took place in the area named and decorated as China. It was interesting to ponder how a Spanish park decided to represent a foreign culture, what stereotypes were perpetuated and how the experience could or could not be considered informative or having any shred of authenticity.

Later, we went to a Mexican show in which there was a ton of music and dancing. An enormous Mexican flag was the background for the stage and the performers wore traditional Mexican clothing, or at least the garb that I’ve seen in movies to represent Mexican people. Again, I wondered what it must be like for Spanish people to pretend to be Mexican. (I know I’m assuming that they were indeed Spanish, but I really don’t think that the park would recruit people from Mexico just for a show.) The general audience could understand the songs because of the shared language between Mexico and Spain, but the two cultures are very different. I wondered what Spanish people thought about others pretending to be from somewhere that they aren’t. I suppose if you think of it as acting it becomes more acceptable.

There were also a bunch of Christmas themed shows. The first was a can-can musical set in the Far West section of the park in a saloon. The dialogue was in Spanish, which surprisingly I could translate enough to allow him to understand the gist of the plot, but most of the songs were in English. It is still so strange to me that a culture can identify with songs that are not in their native language. Popular Christmas songs are usually in English. For me, they signify the holiday season, I’ve been hearing and singing them since I was a tiny child. Sure, some of their significance is just based on tradition, but I can identify with them because I understand what they are saying. The songs are more than just music. I’m not sure I could feel the same affinity and emotion for a song that I don’t understand the message of.

There was a cute puppet show for children that we snuck into. It was a pretty simple story of Papa Noel (Santa Claus) getting stuck in a chimney on Christmas Eve night and how Rudolph and the family dog helped him. I was amazed at how much of the Spanish I understood. It really helped that the show was geared towards children because the actors spoke slowly and enunciated. I felt included as an audience member, at that was so comforting. That feeling was perpetuated in a few more shows that had Spanish dialogue but weren’t overwhelmingly wordy.

One thing I wish we didn’t do is go on this smaller roller coaster called Tomahawk. If you ever find yourself in PortAventura, please don’t go on this ride. They made us sit in separate rows when really each row was meant for two people to sit next to each other. It was the kind of roller coaster where there is only one lap bar and one seatbelt that go across the entire row. For the entire ride I was sliding from side to side hitting the metal pretty hard. At the end, the ride came to a jerky stop and both of us slammed our knees on the inside of the car. He is significantly taller than me and had less space between his knees and the car so he hurt himself a lot worse than I did. In hindsight, they shouldn’t have let at least him ride because he didn’t really fit in the car properly. This reminded me of how there is some danger at amusement parks.

I didn’t want any reminders, but we were given one more. We went on a drop tower ride, which is the kind that that girl two years ago got her feet severed on when a cable snapped. It brings you up to the top and then drops you wicked fast to the bottom. The first time we went up everything was fine. It went up really high and we got a great view of the park. We fell and it was an awesome rush. We decided to go one more time. They were just about to hit the button to launch us up again when the operator yelled to stop. We were stuck in the ride for about 10 minutes as they waited for a technician to free us! At least we were stuck at the bottom and not at the top, but it scared me to think how close we could’ve been to something going really wrong. It seemed to me like the ride operators were not really paying attention to what they were doing. Not cool. (Also, they were speaking Catalan to each other so I couldn’t really tell what they were saying about how long we were going to be there and what exactly went wrong.) This delay made us late to the last show we wanted to go to, which was a more compact and no frills version of the Radio City Music Hall Christmas show. We only caught the end, but it was a nice wrap up to our trip. J

They were giving out candy at the end of the show and I just assumed that they would be little candy canes because that is how it goes in the U.S. Instead they were these little chewy sugary things, sort of like gumdrops, that were great but not what I wanted. I hadn’t found a single mint flavored candy cane in Spain, just one more thing that made it harder for me to believe that it was really Christmas time. (Although all of the Christmas music in the park got songs stuck in my head that I unconsciously hummed the entire train ride home.)

We went out to dinner when we got back to Barcelona, a place sort of like a Chillis or Unos. It was super expensive but had the kind of food that we wanted. We caught one of the last Metros back to the residencia and attempted to pack. I had to get everything that was left in my room into my backpack. I knew it was possible, it just took some effort. It was very strange to pack up everything in my room and say goodbye to the place that I have called home for the past few months. One of the first things I thought when I arrived at the residencia back in September was that eventually this room would become a place that will comfort me and feel like my own. That totally happened, so it was sad to leave it for the last time.

I only got about 3 ½ hours of sleep before I had to jump out of bed on Tuesday morning, do some last minute packing and check out. I had talked to the front desk the night before to make sure that there wasn’t anything special I had to do because I wanted the check out process to go as quickly as possible. But of course in the morning it was a different story and they tried to make me pay for an extra key that I never received nor requested. I successfully contested the charge (while speaking only in Spanish!) and eventually could leave, but we missed the first train to the airport that I wanted to take. We cut it a little close, but made the plane to Rome and I could finally sleep. I could feel a cold coming on and sucked on a bunch of Strepsils (cough drops with antibiotics in them that aren’t legal in the U.S.) during the journey.

I’ll talk about Rome in another post, as I’m sure this is already much too much to read in one sitting.

nikki

un poco más tiempo aquí

Said goodbye to my intercambio partner last night. Definitely wish I would've made a better effort to meet with her more often (or to establish a relationship with another partner in addition) but I am glad that I did keep up with our language commitment to each other. She is just a good person as well as very patient and accepting. It was nice to hang out with someone that didn't love Barcelona! I didn't feel like such a freak for not being head over heels with the city. I hope she understands how much she helped me to feel more confident about my Spanish speaking skills and that in some way I helped her too. We went to a sushi restaurant for dinner and then stopped at this bakery in El Raval that had all sorts of peculiar pastries. I had one that looked like a bird's nest with chocolate and peanuts in the center. It was delightful. I felt bad, but she insisted on paying for everything. I know that she hasn't been able to find work for a little while and was taken aback that she would want to pay for me. I felt kind of honored that she would put herself out there like that.

The rest of yesterday was just packing, very lame I know. I had some hard decisions to make as to what would go in my big suitcase and stay in Barcelona with a friend while I'm traveling and what I would somehow cram into my backpack to stay with me during my European adventure. I gave my suitcase to my friend this morning, so I really don't have any choice but to take everything that is left with me. It was difficult to decide how much clothing to bring. Winter sucks because long sleeve shirts and pants are so freaking heavy and bulky. But I need to stay warm because I am planning on walking around outside a lot in the next 3 1/2 weeks. Here's my schedule again, as some people have requested:

Rome Dec. 22nd - 27th

Madrid Dec. 27th - Jan. 4th

London Jan. 4th - 12th

Barcelona Jan. 12th - 15th

Boston Jan. 15th - 25th

Florida Jan. 25th - 28th

Long Island Jan. 28th - Feb. 1st

(and then hopefully I will be able to find a job and housing in Boston in a timely fashion...)

Right now I'm just trying to be productive and continue to tie up loose ends until it's time to leave to meet my boyfriend at the airport. Hopefully all goes well and he arrives on time. I hate that he can't contact me in the meantime as roaming charges on cell phones are ridiculous (if his phone will even work here). I mean, I'm part of the last generation that can remember a time without computers being readily available, but I've had a cell phone since I was 14. My mom got me one after September 11th because there was this renewed sense of needing to be able to contact people at all times. I pretty much only used it to call her and my boyfriend at the time, and only for short "hey I'm here" type calls. Landlines were where it was at.

When I was in New Zealand I didn't have a cell phone and at first it was disorientating and a little scary (what if there's an emergency when I'm walking around the city by myself?) but after awhile I liked not being able to be contacted every second of the day. I've had a cell phone in Spain that was mainly to keep in touch with other kids in my program. As such, it basically served as a watch for me. I paid to have a skype in number on my computer with voicemail so people from the U.S. could call me for the same price as a local call. This worked out pretty well, as it basically served as a landline.

When I get back to the states I know I'll be right back on the cell phone, but it is interesting to be a little removed from the technology that everyone takes for granted now. Some people might say that it is better that people are more connected, but I think there are drawbacks as well. Sometimes it's so much easier to just sit in the house on the computer and talk to people that way instead of actually going out and exploring the real world. I'm totally guilty of that at times. I am bringing my computer with me while I am traveling but I obviously won't be on it as much as I have been everyday. I am going to use it as a tool to give my family a call on the holidays and to look up information when I try to go places, but it won't be a distraction. I won't use it as something to pass the time. Maybe I should try to do that more often.

I should see if the supermarket is open tomorrow. It is Sunday, but I have noticed that some places have been open for a couple of hours in the morning on the Sundays near holidays. As Christmas is coming up, maybe there is a chance! I want to show my boyfriend what turrón is and maybe buy some cereal. It's been hard trying to eat everything I have left so I won't have to throw anything out but then there are still things I need to buy for these last couple of days. I guess an abundance of food is not something I should complain about. I will miss having my own fridge and place to cook while I am traveling. I hope I have enough money to feed myself! I mean I do have enough, but I just feel so guilty spending money on food because once you eat it it is gone, whereas memories of once in a lifetime activities will last forever. I can't just eat peanut butter and jelly and muffins though, that's for sure. I'm hoping I'll be able to eat all of the cliched things like pasta in Rome and tapas in Madrid. I'm a little nervous about what things will be closed during the holidays, but I know I will make it work. Just have to find the Jewish neighborhood in Rome and I'll be fine!

I'm trying to cultivate anticipation and excitement. Even though the signs are all around me, I'm having trouble really believing that I'm leaving. I have been looking forward to traveling for so long and now it's about to happen. I'm doing what so many people only wish and dream that they could do after college. I am so lucky. I am going to have an amazing time. I will try to document things as best as I can without taking time away from actually having experiences. Stay tuned :)

nikki

es difícil para decir adios...

This morning was the re-entry workshop that was designed to give everyone a sense of closure on the study abroad experience. Most of the activities were of the standard icebreaker mentality, but I am very happy that I went. Being back in the same conference room at the same hotel we were at for our first meeting in Barcelona really brought the experience around full circle. In just 3 1/2 months so much has changed.

It's difficult for me to hear about everyone going home (to the U.S.) right now. Although I am absolutely thrilled to be starting my mini European adventure and will be back in Boston (and then eventually my hometown on Long Island) soon, I feel like I need a break. It is taking everything I have to push myself, to keep being positive and opening up my mind to new and exciting experiences. I am just so exhausted by my time here that I feel like all I want to do is return to some sort of stable monotony.

But then I get scared because I remember that I don't have that to return to yet. When I get back to Boston it isn't going to be the same. While almost all of the other kids in the program have school to return to, an established routine and structure, I don't. It's exciting, all of the possibilities and the freedom, but it's terrifying as well. There is nothing I can do about it right now, I've accepted this, and yet it still takes an inordinate amount of effort to get past it all- to see the good that's right in front of me.

Tonight was the farewell party. CIEE rented out a small club and ordered a ton of dominoes pizza for us. Mmmmm cheap food. I had a good time talking to people and dancing a little bit. We watched slide shows and video of our adventures and judged the photo contest. I was so pleased that people understood the picture I submitted in the "our own experience" category. It's a picture of a street sign where the name of the street is covered by white tape. The title of the picture is "Lost." It's a bit abstract, but I'll stand by it.

I started to regret not having gone out to clubs more, but the remembered why I tend to stay away from that environment when it struck midnight and the general public was allowed into the bar/club. All of a sudden there were sketchy guys everywhere and just too many people in a crowded place. When it was just the CIEE program I was fine. Well, when it was just the CIEE program and it was still early enough that people weren't drunk I was fine. Most of the kids in the program held it together fine, but there will always be those few... But really it was the sketchy guys that I could not tolerate. I have absolutely no leeway in my mind when it comes to guys not taking no for an answer. This one guy would not leave me alone until I physically pushed him away from me. I know I'm not a very assertive person, but I was really clear (even if I was speaking Spanish) about my feelings and he should've stepped the fuck off. I'm not saying that experience ruined my night, it absolutely did NOT, but it did remind me why I have contempt for that atmosphere. Once the alcohol starts flowing and strangers start getting braver...

Right now I do feel like I'm wicked old. After a few hours of dancing to insanely loud music and singing along at the top of my lungs to such lovely classics as I Will Survive and the Grease Soundtrack- my body and mind are shot. (Not to mention I walked to and from the club which takes about 2 hours round trip.) Of course I am also emotionally drained. It is never easy to say goodbye to people, to know that in all likelihood you are never going to see them again and most definitely will never interact with them on the same level. It doesn't matter in many instances how strong your connection might have been. Suddenly I realized that there are people here that have cared about me, people that are going to miss me and I will miss certain things about Barcelona and the people I have met. It's okay for me to have disliked this city and yet still respect the people I have shared it with.

Could I have made a better effort to connect with people here? Probably. But I can't go back and change any of it now. I refuse to let regret take over my life. I have learned and grown as a result of my time here, I'm just not far enough removed in time and physical space from the experience in order to really see and feel it.

And now in the world consumed by facebook, it is easier than ever to stay in touch with people- even if you do it silently by looking through their photos and checking their status updates. Then I guess it's not really staying in touch exactly because the connection in one sided- but it's better than nothing! It is so much easier for me to post on a friend's wall then to call them on the phone. I tend to self-edit a lot less when I type.

I think that's why I like to write so much, it's how I truly express myself. Somehow when I speak the floodgates slow to a trickle and I get so critical of myself that I can't get the most important points across. In the hopes of keeping up the connections I have made here, I will try to update facebook from time to time. Before coming to Spain I was barely ever on the site, but now I check it at least twice a day to stay informed of what everyone is doing because it makes me feel included in the things that are going on in Boston. Now I feel like I'll have to check facebook more often to know what is going on in the lives of these people I have met. Because we have shared this experience we are in a way bonded for life. There's a silent understanding that is implicitly respected.

At almost 4 in the morning I have to stop there and fully intend on reflecting more after at least 8 hours of sleep...

nikki

he acabado la universidad...

No more pencils, no more books, no more teachers' dirty looks! That's the song we would sing at the end of every school year in elementary school. As my classmates and I got older and well more hateful towards the educational institutions that caged us, we added more vulgar verses. But I'll stick to the purity for now.

I am done with college. Maybe I'll go to grad school at some point, but definitely not before Fall 2011. So I've lost a big part of what I made my identity. Even when I was on co-op I considered myself first and foremost an academic. As stressed and unhappy as school has made me at times, it's what I do and what I do well. I learned early how to play the system and get the best grades possible. I'm not saying I'm not smart because I am. I definitely have some innate intellectual talent. But what I've accomplished is more than that. I wasn't one of those kids that could just skate by. I had to put in a lot of effort. I had to write an essay for my Spanish grammar class about what I would do if I could live my life over again (it was for practice with "if" clauses that are about things that are very unlikely or impossible). Si pudiera vivir nuevamente mi vida, estudiaría menos y haría más amigos. (If I could live my life anew, I would study less and make more friends.) I really do believe that. I don't tend to dwell on it, but I occasionally wonder what it is like for people who can look back on high school and college and primarily remember the parties.

I definitely have had fun in college. Freshman year was probably the ultimate just because friendships got complicated after that, but I always found a way to enjoy myself. New Zealand was a total blast and I will treasure those experiences forever. But primarily when I think of my time as a student (not on co-op) I think about locking myself in my room and reading. That's what an English major does when she decides to actually complete her assignments. I wasn't a very balanced person. I couldn't feel free to do things until my work was completed. It was a mindset that I couldn't shake.

But now that I'm free of papers and tests and other such things I might have an opportunity to challenge that outlook. Maybe I can work harder to find a better balance between my future career and social life. All is not lost by any means. I (hopefully) have the rest of my life ahead of me. I am a real person. I've always been independent, but this is a new step.

I guess what is strange is not having other people here to celebrate with. When I graduated high school I was invited to a few parties and had one of my own. There were people near me who had accomplished the same feat and were feeling the same mixture of happiness and anticipation. But no one else in my program (liberal arts) is graduating. (There are two girls in language and culture who are graduating, but I don't know them at all so it's not the same.) I've been congratulated and that's awesome, but it just doesn't feel real.

I'll probably go to the graduation ceremony for Northeastern in May. I think after all of the work I've done I deserve those moments and pictures in the cap and gown. It will feel weird to step back into student mode for a day, but I am pretty sure that in the long run I'll be thankful to have that memory. My parents also deserve the opportunity to come up to Boston and get to be all mushy and proud of me.

I'm sure I'll do a little celebrating when I get back to Boston. My best friend (and really only friend from college that I'm still close with) is graduating this semester as well so we definitely need to acknowledge this event in our lives. It's just not the same. The excitement isn't in the air. People are upset and sick because they are leaving Barcelona and are going to miss everything/everyone. Some are happy to see their parents for the holidays, but I'm generally getting a stressed and sad vibe from most people right now. Great. Just when I am chill enough to try to hang out everyone is upset and I don't want them to bring me down.

I'm just so excited for my boyfriend to get here and to travel! A month from now I will be back in Boston. That seems just about the right amount of time to not worry about anything. Of course I will take a few days to just celebrate and enjoy being back in Boston, but then I have to get aggressive with setting up a new life. But I am not worried about that now. No, I'm serious! I'm really not! For the first time in my life I'm okay with not knowing exactly what the future has in store for me. There is no longer this burden of success.

I feel free to find something exciting in Barcelona to do. Tomorrow I might go to a museum that I didn't think I'd have the time or patience to go to. Then I'm definitely having some patatas bravas. I've only had them twice, several months ago. I can't leave Barcelona without some more of my favorite tapa. Depending on the weather, I'll try to find somewhere nice and peaceful to write in my new moleskin. I love when a notebook is so new that its spine still stiffens and cracks every time you open it.

The weather has turned quite sour over the past two days with some rain and a plunge in temperatures. I just hope that things get a little better for when the boyfriend and I go to Port Aventura! So excited!

Amazing things are about to happen for me. It's so easy to get caught up in what the future might bring, but I am going to try to relax and enjoy these next couple of days of having no concrete plan. I vow to stay outside of my room all day long tomorrow!

Then on Thursday there is a workshop on how to wrap up the study abroad experience and prepare for reverse culture shock. I hope other people go. A lot of people are leaving before then and I'm sure some people think that it will be boring, but I might learn something. We were also promised free food. Then Thursday night is a party put on by CIEE to close out the program. I found out today that they are giving us pizza which is very exciting. The party is at a bar I think. I'm assuming that they rented out part of it like they did with the fancy restaurant at Thanksgiving. Maybe if I'm feeling up to it I'll put on some makeup and find the one skirt that I brought that I never wore...

Friday night I'm meeting with my intercambio partner for the last time. She invited me to dinner which is kind of special. I will miss her because she has taught me a lot and talking to her has really increased my confidence when trying to converse with native Spanish speakers. I would definitely recommend that anyone studying in a country where English is not the dominant language should find a language exchange partner. It's free and very helpful.

So that's it. Goodbye college. Can't say I miss you just yet.

nikki

(And yes, I did listen to Here's to the Night by Eve 6 while I wrote this.)

Feliz Januká

Happy Hanukkah! Except for a blue star cutout on a railing of one building near Placa Sant Jaume I haven't seen any symbol or sign of Hanukkah in Barcelona. This doesn't surprise me at all, I know the Jewish population here is almost zero. But it does surprise me that I miss the menorahs and cheap blue and white decorations. I didn't even know Hanukkah had started until I saw someone's facebook status on Friday morning. I'm not religious. I wasn't raised with any strong instruction and reinforcement in any faith. But my family always lit the menorah together, and read the prayer off of the same photocopied piece of paper whose creases are now rather worn and edges frayed. Since I left for college I'm not there for all of the days of candle week but usually at least one coincides with the time I'm at my parents' house for Christmas. (The dates of Hanukkah change from year to year based on the Jewish calendar, so I'm never guaranteed to be on break for it. For example, next year it will start on December 1st but in 2013 it will start on November 27th, how early!) This year I'm not going to see my family until the end of January, well after the tree has been discarded and all of the candles have burnt out.

There are enough signs of Christmas here, and I'm assuming there will only be more in Rome, that I don't miss it. Things don't feel like the holiday season, but there is a sense of comfort upon seeing Christmas lights and Santa Claus replicas. But Hanukkah doesn't really exist. I miss being able to walk by the enormous menorah on Krentzman quad and just generally being around people who are aware and respectful of the Jewish celebration. I know the religious significance of Hanukkah is minimal, but it serves an important social function. It brings some cheer to the families who have to put up with the dominance of a holiday they don't celebrate. More people can celebrate at more or less the same time. It's a special eight days that children will remember, children that will become adults like me who miss it when it's gone. So I said the prayer to myself on Friday night (the first night) at sundown. I didn't bother trying to find anything resembling a menorah on such short notice. In any case, I'm sure that candles in the residencia are a big no-no fire hazard. But just saying the prayer was comforting. It reminded me of the feeling that family can give you, of not being alone and others wanting and appreciating you. It reminded me of the bonds formed through blood and reinforced through traditions, no matter how small. In the absence of such traditions we need to find a way to find peace in the new and unfamiliar. Otherwise you start to feel like me, a bit lost but trying to take pleasure in the small things.

A week from now I'll probably be at Port Aventura with my boyfriend, hopefully without any cares in the world except enjoying being alive. So as I sit here on the roof of the residencia where only a sweatshirt is needed to protect me from the slight breeze, I take a breath, clear my head and...

... return to homework.

nikki

evaluaciones

Within the past two days I have been asked to complete a total of 9 evaluations, two for each class I am taking and one for the CIEE program in general. I will also need to write my reflective essay in order to get honors credit for this experience and fill out the evaluation required by Northeastern's study abroad office. I am waiting to do these until classes are completely over because I've realized that the evaluations I have completed have been pretty negative.

I don't think my answers have misrepresented my opinions about my experiences here, just might have focused a little too much on my complaints instead of my successes. I know there are things I have accomplished here. I do not regret studying abroad in general. Would I come to Barcelona knowing what I know now? No. I don't know if Alicante or Sevilla would've been right for me either. Maybe I'd have picked somewhere in South America instead in order to still be in a sizeable city but actually be immersed in Spanish. So I had to be honest when they asked me that ever important "Would you recommend this program to a friend?" question. I said no. I think that answer has the most weight because you are judging whether or not your experience is something that you could defend, that you could proudly claim that you benefited from it, that you enjoyed it AND you would feel comfortable telling others to do it as well. I have doubts about that and because of that I wouldn't tell others that they should come here. I certainly don't know what is best for other people and I can't lie and tell them that I had a fantastic time. My mind isn't bursting with recommendations on places to go and things to do. It felt weird to not provide my contact information in order for prospective students to ask me questions, but I had to be honest with myself. Any advice I would give would be tainted with resentment and that's just not fair to the program or the interested student.

It's so easy to remember the negative, to let those alienated feelings stay inside of you. Part of this for me stems from how I tend to write about the bad things that happen. I need a way to deal with those intense and damaging feelings, so I put pen to paper or fingers to keys. I am motivated by the need to purge myself of the awfulness. So when this old woman cut in front of me in the supermarket line today I knew I was going to write about it. The helplessness I felt made me so angry. If I was in America I would've politely told the woman that I was next in line and hopefully she would apologize and let me go ahead. But here I wasn't sure how to convey that sentiment politely in Spanish. She was a really older woman and I was afraid that somehow it was normal for people who only had a few items to jump the line. She seemed like she was in a rush, but she didn't say "perdon" or anything at all to me, just snuck up behind me and put her things on the conveyor belt in front of mine. The cashier clearly saw what had happened and didn't make any move to acknowledge, much less correct the situation. I hate that I was hesitant to speak up, but the language barrier and the nervousness of perhaps being ignorant of a cultural difference rendered me incapable of action. It's just another time when I felt like I was taken advantage of, even though the only person responsible for me feeling that way is me. So I come here and write about it and I feel a little bit better, but the memory doesn't go away. The contempt for those types of experiences, small when taken individually but unbelievably unsettling when taken collectively, is what remains. I associate those feelings with my experience here and thus my attitude is skewed.

It has been difficult to slow down my brain recently. I keep thinking about things in the future and don't realize what is going on right now. All of my things need to be packed up in a week. Next Saturday my boyfriend arrives in Barcelona and two days after that we are off to Rome and Madrid for Christmas and New Years. Then I'll be in London for a week and Barcelona for two days before flying back to Boston on January 15th. Then I'll be around for about 10 days before flying to Florida to visit my little brother and then going to Long Island to see my parents. It will be February before I have a chance to sit down and just live. I am insanely excited for all of the experiences I am about to have, but it is a lot to try to prepare myself for.

My lack of motivation lately has been astounding. I'm just tired all of the time and like numbing my brain with television shows. I haven't been overdoing it. I've been writing a lot actually, nothing too exciting, but at least I am doing something with my time (even though I should be trying to complete essays and study). I just don't care anymore. There is no sense of "my days in Barcelona are numbered I should go have a kick ass time." I mean, I'm definitely going to go to the festivities CIEE has planned at the end of next week and should someone invite me to do something this weekend I will attend, but there is nothing I'm dying to do here. I thought about it for awhile after my history final today and I couldn't come up with anything que yo tengo ganas para hacer. (that I really wanted to do) I like having some quiet time to myself. I read and write and maybe I shouldn't be shutting out the world here as much as I am, but that's how I feel. I chat with some people from Boston online and that's enough for me for right now.

What makes me excited is thinking about all of the things that I'm going to do once I get back stateside, all of the familiar things that are waiting for me. If someone wants to show that they really care about me they will show up to the airport on January 15th with bubble tea in hand...

I don't think that I'm in a good or balanced place to be evaluating things right now. I need a different perspective, to be in an environment where I can contemplate things freely. And yet as you can see my brain is making judgments and perhaps I just need to accept that they aren't as bright and cheery as one would expect from someone who has had an opportunity as great as I have. I can be thankful without being overjoyed.

I guess I've been shying away from people because I don't want to bring them down. I can't pretend that I'm sad to be leaving and I don't want to complain to the kids that are. I sort of envy the ones that say they've had the best time of their lives here. That's just not my truth, but I don't think I should share that with everyone.

So I write about it here and hope that no one takes it the wrong way. For the next couple of days I am focusing on finishing schoolwork, and then I need to prepare for my boyfriend to get here and pack up my things. Hopefully within that time I will have something else to write in here. However, I do plan on writing about my travels after the program in here so this blog won't end on a sour (or indifferent) note. :)

nikki

Bon Nadal y souvenirs

Barcelona has come alive with the Christmas spirit. At night you can be dazzled and mesmerized by the colorful and sparkling lights draped across buildings and streets. The picture above of the lights is on La Rambla. I took a bunch of pictures to try to get myself in the holiday happy mode, it didn’t really work, but I’m happy I got to see the decorations anyway. My mind still can’t really comprehend that it is December.

I went to the Christmas market next to the Cathedral this morning. It was packed with people haggling over prices for build your own nativity scene sets, all sorts of decorations, Christmas trees, firewood and a myriad of handmade crafts. Little children ran around slamming into strangers as their parents pushed around empty carriages that kept clipping innocent fellow shoppers’ heels (aka mine).

I didn’t take pictures of the handmade crafts as I have a certain respect for artists and don’t feel like I deserve a representation of their art without paying for it. Instead I took a decent amount of pictures of ubiquitous Christmas items that there was no way the seller had made themselves.

You might have noticed the picture of the logs at the top of this entry. Apparently the thing is called “Tío” and all the little kids want one. Tío literally means uncle in Spanish, but it has the slang term of “man” sort of like the expression of “oh man” or “dude” in English. I’m wondering how this cartoonish entity ended up being an icon of the holiday for children. Today was the first day that the giant tío was on display and I got to see it right before they covered it up. Apparently they can’t have it exposed for too long at one time, guess something that big is fragile? Perhaps I could ask my Spanish teacher at some point where the tradition comes from. I don’t have class until next Wednesday because there are two federal holidays at the beginning of the week. Thank god. I need time to get serious about finals and papers.

I also went to the design museum because they are having an exhibition about souvenirs. My lit and film professor had mentioned it and then I saw a blurb about it when I was googling what to do in Barcelona today. It might sound weird to go to a museum to look at souvenirs, but I really liked the exhibit. At the beginning they give you this hand held gadget that looks like a PSP (I think that’s the word…?) and you can click through for a ton of information on every item in the collection. Took me forever to get through because I read all of the available information—in Spanish. That’s why I’m so tired right now even though it’s only about 7pm. Three hours of reading Spanish will do that to you. Even though I didn’t do any schoolwork today, I still feel like I did something by reinforcing my reading comprehension. I guess I am going to miss having those readily available opportunities to practice Spanish when I get back to the U.S. It’ll just take more effort to find them.

The exhibit raised a lot of interesting questions about the concept of souvenirs and their function in our lives. When you think about it, we give souvenirs an insane amount of power. Somehow a magnet that says “Barcelona” on it becomes much more than a magnet- it’s suddenly capable of transporting the viewer back to where they have visited. I take a ton of photos wherever I go, but the souvenir I let myself get at every place is a postcard that I keep for my own collection. It’s more than a picture, because I can hold it in my hand and remember purchasing it in a particular store and area of the city, it has the power to bring me back to that place and for a split second I can feel that rush of adventure. I don’t buy anything else for myself because I see it as a waste of money. I have my memories and pictures, what else do I really need?

The exhibit made me reflect on what my place is in Barcelona. I’m not a tourist but I’m not a citizen. I’m not a native but not a stranger to the territory. I know enough about Barcelona to see which souvenirs make absolutely no sense. For example, there is a baseball cap that has a building in Madrid stitched on the front and Barcelona stitched on the back. It was made in China where I’m guessing no one thought to make sure that the picture was of something that is actually located in Barcelona. I’m sure the shop owner noticed the mistake but knew that ignorant tourists would buy it anyway in order to remember their time in Barcelona. Does it matter that the cap is perpetuating a falsehood if the owner is satisfied with his connection to the city through that souvenir?

Similarly, many stores in London still sell things with the icon of the double decker bus even though anyone that visits London today won’t see one. What does it mean if we buy souvenirs of places we’ve been but of things we haven’t seen or experienced? How does a keychain of a double decker bus supplement our London experience?

Sometimes souvenirs illustrate the cultural ignorance of one society about another. Some shops here sell sombreros and many tourists spend way too much on them in the hopes of owning something that is authentic to Spain. Sombreros are Mexican. Mexico and Spain are not the same. Sombreros have no place in souvenir shops in Spain but the demand is there so they will not go away. I guess some tourists don’t know any better. They are happy in their ignorance of the culture that they superficially attempt to temporarily access.

I try to never take pictures of people that I don’t know. The exhibit compared taking pictures of “the natives in their natural habitat” to hunters taking pictures of their kills. Obviously that’s a little extreme, but when you think of our history of conquering other cultures, it makes sense that we do have that instinct to establish superiority. The other is to be questioned and photographed as different, as curious, as worthy of display- a sort of “Hey look I saw one drying their clothes on the rocks! Just like in the olden days!” – which becomes proof of having accessed a sliver of a foreign culture that members of our society consider odd. I don’t take pictures of people because I try to respect them for just living their lives. I can’t really learn about their culture just by looking. If I want to be able to show proof of contact, I can describe verbally the experience. I don’t think posting pictures of anyone without their consent on a site like facebook is a good idea because you are robbing that person of the right to their image. You’re saying that that person should be objectified as part of the record of your travels.

One thing I do for souvenirs is collect museum tickets, metro passes and napkins- things that have little intrinsic value. But when I chose them as souvenirs I give them power. I don’t like paying for things so it’s easy to use these items as reminders of my experiences. Eventually I accumulate too much and will get rid of most, but for the short term it is satisfying and comforting to have these little reminders. In my mind, these things show what I have done since I have acquired them through my own actions.

The exhibit also talked about how the complexity of a city is reduced to certain icons that are just objects, which can come to represent the trip altogether. In lots of advertisements and movies Paris IS the Eiffel Tower. The entire city is reduced to one structure. When I was in Paris the one thing I wanted to do was go to the top of the tower and then have my picture taken once I was back on the ground. Why did I have this desire? There is nothing intrinsic about the tower that attracts me to it. I don’t find it aesthetically pleasing, and yet I had this desire to document my interaction with it. This is because I have unconsciously subscribed to the idea that in order to visit Paris you must visit the Eiffel Tower, that there is no other way to visit the city. This is the epitome of the tourist mentality, completely discounting the people and culture of a city in favor of one materialistic thing. Anyone who lives in Paris must be absolutely sick of all of the attention that the Eiffel Tower gets. It’s just a structure. I feel that way about a lot of the buildings in Boston, since I see them everyday they don’t hold any sort of power over me. Living next to Fenway Park for four months took away all of the magical mysteriousness out of the place. Working in Copley Square for eight months made it so I didn’t even realize that the Hancock Tower was there. Because I live in Boston I know that the city is much more complex than the architecture or any symbol that someone could create. Those souvenirs of lobsters and beans in Faneuil Hall annoy me because that’s not what Boston is. In my mind it is impossible to reduce Boston to one image, but that’s only because I don’t see the city as a tourist does. I know it as a city, as a place to live, and not as a place to snap pictures of for a few days and then forget about.

Sometime I found interesting was what the exhibit called the “souvenirization of pain.” An example of this is how you can buy a piece of what once was the Berlin Wall. The wall represented the hardship and pain of many people, and now some tourist can spend a few bucks and have a piece of something that served such a horrible purpose. I think that in a way it’s like someone taking part of what was the World Trade Center in NYC. These artifacts should be treated as a part of history and not made available for the public. I think that having a souvenir of the Berlin Wall makes a joke out of it, that it suddenly becomes fashionable to own a symbol of turmoil. Worse still are the pens that are sold in Sarajevo in the shape of the unique bullets used to kill many innocent civilians. Since when do we allow instruments of death to be happy reminders of a vacation? An outsider owning something for their amusement that would never amuse someone from the place that it was sold is a travesty and I hope that I never fall into this trap. After all, I have been and will continue to be a tourist in different places in Europe until the middle of January. Maybe when I am in Rome, Madrid and London I will think more carefully when I look at the souvenirs. Even if I don’t buy something (which I probably won’t) just the act of accepting something as a souvenir, thinking that it is cool or in some way reflects the city I’m visiting makes me complicit in the creation of the souvenir and holds me responsible for what it might represent to others who actually know the city. If tourists didn’t want souvenirs of pain, they wouldn’t be made. It is scary how we can detach ourselves emotionally from the suffering of others.

Obviously I’ve taken a lot of pictures of Barcelona. I’ve done some touristy things. But I don’t feel like I have the tourist mentality. Because I have taken classes about Barcelona and have been able to see the variety of what the city has to offer, I do feel like I am not susceptible to the efforts of the shops on La Rambla to put Barcelona in a nice, neat, easily digestible box. I don’t know everything, but I can be of the opinion that anyone who thinks bullfighting is emblematic of Barcelona should reevaluate themselves posthaste. As my time here increases, my tolerance for the tourists decreases. Part of that might be because I am mistaken for a tourist on a daily basis, but it also shows a general frustration with the attitude that Barcelona is a place for fun and not for living. That is something I think most of the kids in my program believe, that Barcelona is where you should come to party. Reducing the city to that just seems wrong.

Barcelona isn’t just the nightlife. Barcelona isn’t just the architecture. Barcelona isn’t prepackaged frozen paella and watered down sangria. There is more going on here than I will ever realize. That is what frustrates me most of all. I am going to leave here without really having a complete sense of the city. I can identify what the city is not, but can’t really articulate what it is. I think I’m at peace with that limitation.

In two weeks my boyfriend will be here and shortly thereafter I will be leaving Barcelona. While most of the other kids in the program are really sad, I am actually feeling relieved. I cannot wait until classes are over and I can just travel and truly relax. I’ll be back in Barcelona for two days before my flight leaves to return to Boston and I think that until then I won’t really be able to begin to understand what my time in Barcelona has meant to me.

I’m trying not to think too much about all those big pictures things. I have school stuff to finish and I need to start packing up the things I don’t need anymore. But like I said, I’m exhausted right now. Time for some food and maybe another Six Feet Under episode…

nikki

Bruges and Brussels

So late last night I got back from my weekend excursion to Bruges and Brussels (Belgium). I had a great time for the most part and am really happy that I decided to make such a random trip. Bruges is such a peaceful city, and it's like going back in time when you walk down the streets and think about how old every building is. I needed to go somewhere where I could appreciate the silence and Bruges was just that place.

However my travels definitely did not start out calmly. I had to catch a train from the Brussels airport out to Bruges. The directions I had gotten off the internet (a site that looked legit) said to take a train to Brussels Zuni/Midi station and switch to a train that was going towards one of four cities, one of which was De Panne. But when I bought my ticket I thought the guy behind the counter said that I wouldn't have to change. I figured I would just ask the conductor after I got on board but of course no conductor walked through. I started to get really nervous. I didn't know what to do. The train wasn't crowded at all and I was too nervous to ask the group of rough looking men speaking Dutch (maybe?). When we got to Zuni/Midi I looked out of the train and saw that the board said that the train I was going on was going to Le Panne. I breathed a sigh of relief and stayed on the train. Just like the directions said, the next stop was Ghent and then after that should've been Bruges.

But it wasn't.

Panic really started to set in. Should I wait and see if a conductor comes through? Should I get off at the next stop and hope that someone there can help me? The next two stations were very small and I didn't see an office of any kind to ask for info. I wasn't going to get off the train and be stuck in middle of nowhere Belgium. I was debating just staying on until the end and figuring things out then when finally the conductor walked through. He knew some English and took pity on me, seeing the tears starting to form in my eyes. He let me ride through on my incorrect ticket and let me know where I could get off to switch trains to Bruges. When I got to that station I ran to catch the next train and nearly twisted my ankle on a particularly slippery set of stairs. (Did I mention that it was pouring rain? Yes, pouring rain, crazy wind and low temperatures throughout my entire stay in Belgium- definitely didn't help anything.) The conductor on that train didn't speak any English but he understood what had happened and just gave me a smile.

(Did you catch the mistake I made? De Panne is NOT the same as Le Panne. I looked at the directions from the website too quickly and paid the price for my failure to pay attention to detail.)

I made it to Bruges about an hour behind schedule, but it didn't matter much. I was just happy that things had worked out. I had kept myself from the point of being hysterical and I know that no matter what happened I would've figured out a solution.

My main problem in Bruges was having the fuck it all attitude necessary to speak English in a foreign country and worry if people understand you afterwards. I had thought that I could get by on my little knowledge of French (left over from Paris) but they actually speak Flemish (a dialect of Dutch) in Bruges. French was a second language on things like menus so that helped a little bit but it just didn't make sense for me to use a language that I barely know to communicate to people that didn't use that language as their own.

I just felt so insecure about what to say that I was silent until someone asked if I spoke English. Obviously it's not very productive to rely on hand gestures and smiles, but I just got so shy. It felt wrong when I spoke English, I felt guilty for being yet another foreigner. Bruges is a nice small town that has been flooded with tourists. The people there must get so frustrated to see people all the time taking pictures and remarking about how quaint everything is. I felt like I hadn't had the common courtesy to learn some of the basic words in the native language. I was worried that merci/pardon etc. (french) would be worse than not saying anything at all, like somehow they would know that I was a foreigner pretending that she knew the local language- and was sadly mistaken. Looking back, I'm pretty sure they didn't care and wouldn't have even noticed if I spoke English because you hear it all the time there.

The parts of Belgium that I saw seem to be very flexible with language. In a short train ride you go from one dominant language to another to another. The announcements correspond to the geography of the moment. I can't imagine what it would be like if regions of the U.S. each had their own language. We are such a monolinguistic society, it's awful. I know that Spanish proficiency is increasing, but there is definitely a prevailing attitude that to be an American is to speak English and that our concept of identity is so wrapped up in language that we often don't give the respect to other languages that they deserve. I wonder if it will be a relief or a total mindfuck when I go to London and have (little to) no language barrier. I know that there are still a lot of cultural differences to explore, but somehow it doesn't feel like the same intensity of adventure.

Overall it was interesting to see how different language can co-exist in the same country. In Brussels (about an hour by train from Bruges) everything is in Dutch and French. It truly is a bilingual city. Everywhere you look things are written twice. Barcelona could learn a thing or two...

I can't believe how much awful for you stuff I ate this past weekend. Apparently what we call french fries were actually invented in Belgium. Bruges has a fry museum, so it must be true. So I had to try some fries with the traditional mayonnaise sauce. Combined with my indulgences into the other two "foods" Belgium is known for, chocolate and waffles, I'm really surprised I didn't puke at some point. I wasn't out of control, but I also didn't want to spend a lot of money on food so besides having some of the treats all I ate was the free breakfast at the hostel which was corn flakes and rolls. After not having any real food for three days I had to make pasta the second I got home last night/early this morning. I need to reassess my distaste for spending money on food while traveling. At least the hostels for Rome, Madrid and London have kitchens, as the one in Bruges did not. I can cook some cheap stuff in the hostel and not have to feel guilty about going out all the time. I am probably more concerned about money than I should be, but it is frustrating to have to spend it on things like food when there are all of these once in a lifetime experiences I'm trying to have that are of course expensive.

I've been feeling a little nostalgic about my past lately. Of course I miss Boston, but I've also been thinking about other phases in my life and how I haven't done much to keep in touch with the vast majority of people that I used to have some sort of connection with. In most cases nothing happened that couldn't be resolved in someway. About 10 days or so after getting back to Boston I am going to Florida to see my little brother and then to Long Island to see my parents and hopefully my other two brothers- all of whom I haven't seen since last Christmas. I've been entertaining the thought of finding a couple of people from high school that wouldn't mind going to a dinner or something with me. I need to have some NY food, but I also feel like I could benefit from a little reconnection and reaffirmation that I have affected people in this world. Being in Spain has made me feel very isolated despite all of the lovely advances in technology. (I cannot imagine surviving here in the times before computers, having to rely on a phone call every once in a while with the people that you miss the most.) From this perspective I can see how important it is to have connections with others and since it is difficult for me to form such connections I shouldn't keep severing them without any good reason other than the lack of physical proximity. I can't exist alone, no one can, and I don't deserve to.

nikki

Tibidabo y hace buen tiempo

I finally made it to Tibidabo! It took a little while to get there (had to take two different metro systems, hike a little bit and then a funicular) but it was worth it. The view was amazing. It was cool to see all these little kids running around having the time of their lives in an amusement park on top of a mountain. Initially I thought I'd want to buy the 25 euro ticket to enjoy the entire park, but after looking at the map/list of rides I realized it really wasn't worth it. I really would've only gone on two rides (most of them were either really not to my liking or too childish) and seeing as I'm probably going to Port Aventura in about a month I'd rather save my money for the real amusement park. I guess I really am a roller coaster snob. As cool as it would've been to ride a roller coaster that is built on a mountain, 25 euro was just too much (there is only one roller coaster and it doesn't even go upside down).

Luckily you can walk around a lot of the park without purchasing a ticket. I explored for a bit and took way too many pictures of random things. There is a church on top of the mountain right next to the park (as evidenced by the picture). The juxtaposition between religion and fun was very amusing. The church rests on the highest point of Barcelona, so now I can say I climbed to the top of this city! It was nice to have the time to just sit around and enjoy my surroundings. The weather was gorgeous, although it was interesting to me that it was 10 degrees (F) cooler on top of the mountain. It makes sense, it was just weird to adjust once I made my way back down. I definitely prefer a little chill in the air. 70 degrees at the end of November is just too much for me! At night it gets a bit cooler, so I always have to wake up and put the heat on, which I don't mind at all because the heating/cooling system in my room is perfect. I am going to miss having a thermostat that actually responds to what you tell it to do. In the majority of my previous apartments I didn't have a thermostat, just a knob on a radiator that was pretty much useless when trying to adjust the temperature. The choice of freezing cold or boiling hot can be a tough one to make.

I still have no idea where I am living when I get back to Boston and I won't really be able to know until I am actually there to start seeing places I guess. I emailed a few people who had ads up on craigslist, but they are pretty adamant about meeting the potential new roommate in person before agreeing to anything. That totally makes sense, and honestly I don't know how comfortable I am with agreeing to live somewhere without seeing it in person. I'm sure that due to my limited means (no job prospects...) wherever I do end up won't have any of the amenities of my current place. As weird as it will be to switch to having roommates, I think it will be beneficial for me. Forced social interaction. Good times.

I'll admit I haven't been doing much with other people lately. I've been keeping to myself because I'm just tired of working so hard and not getting anything out of it. I'm only here for another month (exactly one month until I leave BCN for Rome!) and I know I'm not going to make any friends in that amount of time. It's probably better that way. At least I won't have anyone that I'll miss.

I'm not miserable or anything like that, I just feel like I'm done with this experience. I just want to travel for a little while and then get back to Boston and start setting up my life. I don't know exactly what I thought Spain would be like, but it wasn't this. Things could've been worse, but I'm not going to pretend that this experience has been overwhelmingly positive. I share a lot of the blame for that I'm sure. My game plan is to take it easy for the next couple of weeks, do little things here and there in the city and try not to freak out about final projects and tests. Before I know it I'll be leaving for my multi-city adventure and I'll feel free.

I do feel trapped in Barcelona. There are too many limits on what I can do because of the culture and language barriers. I don't have any fight left in me. I'm going to do what I can do and that's it. I don't have any more big idealistic goals. It has taken the pressure off. My focus is on relaxing. I can't handle anymore challenges for a little while.

nikki

sellos y dinero (quizás no en esta orden)

This morning I bought some stamps at the tobacco shop around the corner. I asked for three to mail to the U.S. and she gave me the 78 cent stamps that I had used during the first few weeks that I was here. I suddenly realized that the person who sold me stamps about two weeks ago totally took advantage of me. He had given me 1 euro stamps and I assumed the price had gone up. But no. Still 78 cents. What I sent with those 1 euro stamps better get to where it needs to go now that I know I over payed.

Why would someone do that? Sure, it's possible he was mistaken, but isn't it his job to know which stamps are for which countries? Maybe I'm wrong for going into "oh my god I was persecuted" mode, but that's usually my reaction when shady things like this happen here. Ugh, this is the same guy that gave me a Turkey coin in place of a 2 euro coin. I didn't realize until I was two blocks away, and when I went back to the store there was a really long line so I didn't try to get him to correct his mistake. I figured that as I hadn't noticed it wasn't really a 2 euro coin, whoever I tried to give it to wouldn't notice either. No such luck. I've tried to use it three times now and each time the cashier treats me like an idiot for trying to use a foreign coin, like I don't know what a euro is. It's annoying because the exchange rate is so bad right now. 2 euros is 3 dollars! That's a lot to lose because someone else made a mistake. I am not going to miss having to carry all of this change around when I get back to the U.S.

I guess the main reason why I have so many coins is because I always use cash around here. Lots of places don't take cards and the fees that the companies charge for overseas transactions are ridiculous. It will take some getting used to to start using my cards again, but I like that way better. I always get nervous having cash on me. You can cancel credit cards if your wallet gets stolen or you lose it, but you can't get back the cash. (That's another downfall of the exchange rate, ATMs here often give out 50 euro notes, which are now worth $75. That's a lot of money for just one bill! I'm not used to that at all since American ATMs generally give out $20 bills.)

nikki

Paris!

I know I haven't written in here for a little while. Honestly, before I went to Paris (got back only this morning) not much happened. I had class. I watched South Park. I did homework. I watched more South Park. I did a lot of work during the week so I wouldn't have to worry about anything in Paris besides having a good time.

And it worked! Paris was amazing. I never had a moment where I was bored. There were a few pangs of jealousy whilst watching couples make out on the top of the Eiffel Tower, but I survived.

I don't know where to begin! I guess in general the one thing that stuck out was that I kept thinking in Spanish while I was in Paris. It sounds strange, but it makes sense. Every time I'm out and about in Barcelona I try to rely on my Spanish to function in the world. Whenever I interact with someone who is not a kid in the program, my instinct is to speak in Spanish. I never assume that someone here speaks English.

I know about four words of French. I brought along a little cheat sheet with things like numbers and colors translated into French so that helped a little bit. But overall I was frustrated that I knew how to say things in two languages, neither of which fit the situation. Even though it was apparent that a lot of people spoke English, such as shopkeepers and waiters, it did not occur to me that I should just speak English first and find out if they understand me later. That just hasn't been my approach to things. I can't tell you how many times I said "gracias" and "si" for thank you and ok. At least the word for excuse me is about the same in Spanish and French because I had to say it like a billion times in order to get people to move out of my way. Silly American, always so pushy!

It was also interesting to experience what it's like when people can't tell that you don't speak the language just by looking at you. I blended in with the public in France. There were plenty of people that looked similar to me. Maybe my bulky winter coat gave me away a little bit, but as far as my skin color/facial features etc., I was indistinguishable as long as my mouth was closed. This was nice in that I never felt like I was being stared at, but also unfamiliar as many people would speak French to me and ask me questions in the street like I was a local! I was ashamed to have to say that I didn't speak French. I felt bad about speaking in English, so I relied on hand gestures and such. I was never frustrated when I was misunderstood, but was very happy when I did get my point across!

I was most proud of myself when a Spanish couple approached me on the street and asked for directions. The said "hola" and immediately without thinking I spoke to them in Spanish. They could probably tell that it's not my first/best language, but I could tell they felt comfortable hearing their own language. By dumb luck I knew where the building was that they were looking for so I'm pretty sure I helped them. I wonder how many people in Paris that work in touristy areas speak Spanish. There are a surprising number of tourist attractions here that have people working that speak French. In Paris, Spanish was the third language that many signs and menus were in. I'm assuming that the physical proximity between the two countries is what makes it logical to have some linguistic overlap. It was amusing to hear people singing Spanish in the metro and Spanish music playing in museums. Every time, it took me a few seconds to realize that what I was hearing was unique!

One thing I liked about Paris was that I heard people speaking a ton of different languages, especially waiting on the ridiculously long and numerous lines in order to get to the top of the Eiffel Tower and back down again. I'm pretty sure I heard German, Dutch, Italian and Russian at least. I wonder how difficult it is for someone that doesn't know French, English or Spanish to navigate their way around Paris. I was nervous about it and I speak the second most common language there!

I loved the metro in Paris. The colors were bright pastels and everything just looked so clean. The walls inside the stations (on either side of the platforms) were made of bright white tile. I felt very safe in Paris. I don't know if this was just a side effect of being enamored by a foreign city, but it really seemed like the people were nicer and less suspicious looking. I was still careful with my belongings at all times, but the fear wasn't there...

...except for right around the base of the Eiffel Tower. My first night I went to the tower to go up to the top. That was really the only thing that I absolutely 100 percent had to get accomplished. There are a ton of guys stationed throughout the ground underneath and around the tower that try to sell cheap gifts to the tourists. Most of them would make their offer and stop when you told them "No merci." But there was one guy who literally chased me down. He kept offering more and more of the stupid Eiffel Tower keychains for a cheaper and cheaper price but I wanted nothing to do with it. I pretty much screamed NO! and ran away. I felt threatened at that point and was pretty pissed off about it.

That's the thing about being a woman and traveling alone, there are certain things you have to watch out for. It's sad, but true. I was pretty vigilant at night in the neighborhood around my hostel because it's a little secluded from the rest of the city. I didn't have to worry too much because I never stayed out past 11:30. My philosophy was to go to bed relatively early and then wake up early (7ish) so I could be one of the first people to grab some of the free breakfast at the hostel and quickly get started planning out my day- getting outside as soon as possible. Except for the Eiffel Tower, everything I wanted to do was only open during the day.

As lonely as it can be to travel alone, I loved being able to decide what I wanted to do whenever I wanted to do it. I didn't have to worry about anyone else's desires. I did some things that I probably couldn't have gotten other people to do. I have no shame in that :)

I took a free walking tour that skimmed over a ton of the most famous attractions. I felt that was sufficient for a lot of things that a lot of guidebooks say are most important. I hate when someone/something says that "You can't say you've been to Paris if you don't...." I think not. I think that if you're traveling you should do what you want to do and the hell with what some book tells you. Guidebooks should be just that, a guide, and it is necessary to satisfy your own desires with whatever time you have.

For example, instead of going to the Louvre (huge museum with famous art such as the Mona Lisa) I went to the Museum of Contemporary Art. I absolutely love contemporary art (as evidenced by my trip to MACBA) and get so much more out of that then staring at a bunch of paintings of Jesus. There was so much to see at the museum! They had three special exhibits in addition to the main collection. It took me about four hours to get through the whole thing, and that's with skimming over a few sections! One of the exhibitions was all different kinds of art made by only female artists. I'm not a big feminist or anything, but it was inspiring to see an entire floor of a museum full of art made by women. There was a piece by Yoko Ono that said 0 + 0 + (-1) = my work. For some reason that made an impression on me.

I tried to give myself both an experience tailored to my interests (Museum of Eroticism hell yeah!) but also something to give me a taste of French culture. Everything was so expensive, but I promised myself I would have one real meal. So last night for dinner I went to this tiny restaurant off on some side street and ate a three course meal (the typical Menú del día, but at night). I had snails! I was intimidated by the instruments provided to extract the snails from their shells, but figured it out eventually. I really liked them but they were drenched in butter and garlic, so I can't see how they could've tasted bad. I also had tartiflette which is some amazing bacon, cheese and potatoes combination of yummy goodness. Then for dessert was blanc manger which tasted like raspberry cheesecake and flan- amazing! And yet what made me most happy was the fact that bread and water were free! (Take that Spain!)

* sigh * I wish I had a European passport. In Paris you can get into almost any museum or monument (except the tower) for free if you are under 26 and have a European passport. I got discounts on many things, but that's a lot different than free tickets! Also, if you have a European passport you don't need a visa to work in a different country within the EU (or at least that's what I was told). I don't have any immediate plans to work in Europe, but it would be awesome if it was such a feasible possibility, none of this having to prove that you'll contribute financially to the country's entire economy.

It was interesting to see the difference between traveling within the EU and traveling from the U.S. to other countries. Even though I traveled internationally, I did not go through customs and did not have to fill out any sort of paperwork about the length of my stay. And here I was so worried about having trouble traveling on my student visa! The only downside to this is that you don't get a passport stamp :(

So if you find yourself with the opportunity to go to Paris and are wondering what you should do, here's a list of almost everything that I accomplished in about 2 1/2 days:

Eiffel Tower, Pantheon, Museum of Eroticism, Dali Museum, Centre Pompidou, Museum of Contemporary Art, Arc de Triomphe, Sacre Coeur, Jardin du Luxumbourg, Latin Quarter, Notre Dame, Moulin Rouge, Obélisque, I Love You wall, Montmartre, Pont Neuf, Champs-Elysees, Picasso's studio, Van Gogh's house & The Artist's Square

And you have to try a macaroon! These aren't the light brownish/whitish lumps that I thought were the only kind of macaroon. Oh no. These come in a ton of different flavors and they just melt in your mouth from the second they hit your tongue. Mmmmm. (For my Boston readers, all two of you, you can find these kind of macaroons at a little shop next to the Cambridge Center for Adult Education on Brattle St. in Harvard Square, but they aren't of quite the same quality.)

So now it's back to the Barcelona grind. I have a lot of just life stuff to catch up on that I have no motivation to do work right now. I'm now looking forward to Tibidabo this weekend and Belgium the weekend after that!

nikki