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

refugio antibombas 307

(This post is about the bomb shelter I visited yesterday. I apologize in advance if the language sounds odd, I'm translating it from the Spanish I wrote for a school paper. I also apologize if after reading this you think I'm a complete airhead, because after discovering my complete ignorance for something as tragic and far reaching as this I feel a little worse about myself.)

I visited the bomb shelter because I had never seen one in person. I'd only seen bad quality old photographs or films that only show bomb shelters from the U.S. I thought it would be fun to visit the bomb shelter in order to learn a little bit about life in Barcelona during the Spanish Civil War. In my history classes in the U.S. the Spanish Civil War is mentioned in a paragraph or less. I had a lot of questions about the time period.

I imagined the space inside the bomb shelter to be large and comfortable. In some American films, bomb shelters appear to be like normal houses, the only difference being that they are under ground. For example, in the film Blast From the Past, a family lives in a bomb shelter that looks like a palace. The father thought that the world had been destroyed in the Cold War and his family stayed in the bomb shelter for decades without problems. I knew that all bomb shelters weren't like this, but I thought there were similarities, especially in the ability to live in the bomb shelter for a long time without hardship. I thought that all of the bomb shelters were constructed by public services and strong and intelligent architects, and thus were of superb quality. I had never thought of the differences between the decades in which the different types of bomb shelters were constructed, the differences between technology and knowledge during the 30's (bomb shelters in Spain) and decades later (bomb shelters in the U.S.).

It's difficult for me to understand the lives and emotions of people that were alive during the threat of the bombs. I have only seen a lot of documentaries that show the "duck and cover" strategy. Students and office workers would practice the strategy in drills by hiding under their desks and covering their heads. In my opinion, this strategy was hilarious. Because the bombs never dropped in the U.S., the strategy and peoples' paranoia are made fun of often. At least to my generation, it's not a serious topic. I didn't know that there were bombings in Spain. I was not prepared for a sad, serious and disturbing history lesson about bomb shelters in Spain and specifically in Barcelona.

Bomb shelter 307 is inside of a mountain in the Poble Sec neighborhood in Barcelona. In order to get to the bomb shelter you have to climb a pretty steep hill. There is a sign that says "Refugio 307" on a heavily rusted iron gate. Without that sign, you would never know that the bomb shelter existed. It's next to some houses and a park, just another place in the neighborhood. Inside of the gate but outside of the bomb shelter there are signs that tell the history of Catalonia, Spain and all of the world in the 30's. There are also photographs of the people and places that were affected by the wars. The details about the dead and wounded made me really sad. I was scared that I wouldn't want to see the bomb shelter because many people died there, but I knew that I had to see the shelter in order to understand more about Barcelona history. I live here now and I deserve to know more about my new city.

I was lucky that there was a guided tour at the time that I arrived. It was in Spanish, but I understood enough to learn a lot about the shelter and its history. Without a guide, I wouldn't have been able to learn anything inside the bomb shelter because there aren't any information signs inside. There are a lot of things inside that you wouldn't be able to spot or understand the significance of if you weren't familiar with the bomb shelter.

First, everyone had to put on hard hats. I was scared that something was going to fall on me, but the guide told us that the hats were to protect tall people that are sometimes not paying attention and might hit their head on low ceilings. Since I'm pretty short, I wasn't worried.

The entrance was very small and dark. It looked like a cave. I thought there were bats in there! Immediately I knew that the bomb shelter was nothing like the bomb shelters in the movies.

The bomb shelter was almost empty. The walls were well preserved and there were remnants of electricity cables and faucets. The bomb shelter had its own electricity source and running water. I was surprised that a place of bricks and stones would have those two resources. But even though there was light, it still wasn't bright enough to live as if you were in sunlight. Also, the running water was cold at this point in history and there was also no reliable way to heat the water. While light and water make life bearable, life inside the bomb shelter was never comfortable. I couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like to live inside the bomb shelter. I thought that I wouldn't have been able to survive mentally.

It was also very cold inside the bomb shelter. After being inside for only 10 minutes I had to put my jacket on. Two people in the group even put on scarves. I didn't understand how people could live in low temperatures for a long time. I visited the bomb shelter when it was 55 degrees out. The worst bombing attack in Barcelona was in March of 1938. The average temperature in Barcelona in March is 50 degrees, therefore it's possible that the people lived in conditions similar to what I experienced (in regards to temperature). I hope that this wasn't true. I know that they were able to build fires, but obviously they were unstable and transient. However, the capacity of the bomb shelter was 2,000 people. Maybe the body heat allowed the people to stay warm. Whatever made the people feel more comfortable was very important.

There were a lot of people that died before they could live in the bomb shelter. The infirmary was located very near the entrance so people could be transported there quickly, but also so the dead bodies could be taken out quickly. Today, you can't see much of the infirmary, only some remnants of the walls and the floor. But I didn't like being in a place where lots of people died. I don't believe in ghosts, but I think the dead deserve respect and the ground with their blood should be more than a tourist attraction. I felt like I was intruding on the memory of the dead.

The only thing I liked about the inside of the bomb shelter were the benches in the meeting point in the center. The benches were reconstructed to appear where and how they were during the war. People would wait on the bench for their loved ones. There were three entrances to the bomb shelter, so it was easy for families to be separated. On the one hand, it would be difficult for me to wait for my family to find me, but on the other I think it is an amazing thing that the designers of the bomb shelter thought to construct something to calm the emotions of the inhabitants and not just everything to ensure physical safety.

I don't want to imagine what life was like for the people in the bomb shelter, the terror and fear. It angers me that civilians were deliberately targeted, as Franco was "punishing" the Catalan people for supporting the Republic (and not his fascist national regime). It is obviously good that so many peoples' lives were saved by this shelter, especially during the March 1938 attack in which over 1000 people died in Barcelona, but I wish that there wasn't a need for the shelter at all.

(Obviously the paper isn't finished and it still needs a lot of work, but these were my first impressions.)

nikki

french. bomb. art.

I think I did a much better job this weekend with balancing schoolwork and enjoying Barcelona.

On Friday after class I went to the Museum of Contemporary Art for a few hours. It was pretty exhausting, but I was very happy that I finally made the time to go see it. There are so many museums of art, but I really am most interesting in things that have been made in the last century or so. I like art that is more three dimensional, that inspires me to be more creative in my own life. One of the featured temporary exhibits was sort of like postsecret in reverse. Instead of tons of people sending postcards to one person, this one person sent postcards out to a ton of people. He made them all by hand and put all sorts of messages on them in different mediums. He used snippets from newspapers and magazines and conveyed so much information and artistic vision in such a small space. The one thing I found surprising and didn't really like was that almost all of the art was made by American or British artists. I assumed that more of the art would be by Spanish artists, or at least other Europeans. In a way it was cool that the artist that did all the postcards was from Long Island, but it was also disappointing that all of the text was in English and the celebrities and events referenced were all from the U.S. In order to flex my Spanish comprehension muscles I had to read all of the explanations of exhibits and pieces in Spanish, which was exhausting after about three hours. I feel like I owe it to myself to utilize my Spanish skills, but sometimes it can be annoying when something that should be enjoyable becomes a homework assignment.

Yesterday I went to the last remaining bomb shelter in Barcelona. It was on the list of things to see that CIEE sent out. I don't think most of the other kids in the program have even looked at the list, but there are actually a lot of things on there that I never would've known about otherwise. As long as my professor approves it, I am going to do my final paper for my history class on the bomb shelter. We have to visit something that is historically significant in the city and write about our thoughts during the visit and then some history about it. In anticipation of her approval, I wrote down my thoughts about the bomb shelter and my motivation for going to see it. The entire paper is supposed to be between 5 and 7 pages and I have about 4 pages of just my own thoughts. I'm not going to start research until I know for sure that I can use this idea. I figured I want to write down my impressions anyway and I might as well do it in Spanish in case I can use it for the assignment. It probably took me twice as long to write it in Spanish, but it is practice that I need. I don't know if people are interested, but I'm going to post a summary of my thoughts about the bomb shelter. I apologize in advance if it sounds strange because I'll be translating it back into English and that's harder than it sounds!

I also walked around Poble Sec, the neighborhood where the bomb shelter is located. I've been trying to visit a different neighborhood every weekend. I just wander around some streets with no destination in mind and hope that I don't get too lost. Most of the time I can always find a metro station as a guiding point and re-orient myself. I take random pictures of weird things that I see. Having my camera in hand makes me really examine what is around me. I am hoping that I can bring this curiosity back to Boston and more carefully examine parts of the city and surrounding suburbs (I'm looking at you Somerville). I definitely have not seen all there is to see.

I think this is really the only way that I get exercise, and I suppose it has working because even though I haven't been eating the best here I still haven't gained any weight- which was one of my concerns about coming here. (In the year before leaving for Spain I lost about 50 pounds and have absolutely no desire to gain any of it back.) I'm trying to make a more concentrated effort to eat healthier, but it's difficult when the foods you are used to eating aren't available and you still aren't sure how to convert kilo jules to calories. Also, I think I owe it to myself to try all sorts of different foods at least once because that's part of exploring a new place.

I was going to go to Tibidabo this weekend but when I went to get cash out of the ATM on Friday the machine ate my card. I thought it was unusual when my mom told me that Bank of America had sent a new card to the house, but I didn't think it meant that I couldn't still use the card that I do have until the new one gets here. I have like 10 euros in cash at the moment and transportation to Tibidabo costs more than that, and since the metro system only lets you use credit cards if you have a pin number I was not able to go. I think I still had a decent weekend though. I reserved my hostel for Madrid and bought my plane ticket from Madrid to London so now all I have to do is reserve the hostel for London and the ticket back to Barcelona. I have a lot of choices for hostels so I'm trying to find the cheapest one that is also nice. I also am not sure when I want to fly back to Barcelona and right now the flights are still cheap. I'll do it soon, but like last time I went hostel/flight buying crazy, I don't want to do it all at once. It will feel nice once all the travel and sleeping arrangements are taken care of. I also need to pay for the three extra nights that I will be staying in Barcelona after the program ends. I was going to do that on Friday when I got cash but now I'll just have to wait until my card shows up. Should be in sometime this week if the U.S. to Spain mail works on time...

Today I stayed in and tried to be academically productive and proactive. I have a test that's worth 50% of my grade tomorrow so I had to study for that. I wrote the aforementioned beginning (hopefully) to my history paper. I read a ton about the director whose film we are going to start watching this week in my Lit and Film class. I am trying to do everything I can so I don't have to worry about any work while I'm in Paris this weekend. I have to leave very early Friday morning and I'm getting back (hopefully) about two hours before class starts on Monday- so I have no time to do work. I sure as hell am not bringing any books with me. Hopefully in the next couple of days I can anticipate any work that might try to thwart my plan. I bought a small guide book for Paris (it's in Spanish, so yay another way to test my reading comprehension) and have a few ideas of what I might like to see, but for the most part I'm going to just see what happens. I'll probably do one of those hop on hop off tourist buses because I'm only going to be there for 3 days. It's just so much easier to have someone else tell you what is important to see! Seriously, I'll be happy with a pic in front of the Eiffel Tower and some sort of weird french meal. (Filet mignon perhaps? not really weird... but still so delicious...)

nikki

sacar las castañas del fuego

This week has given me little to write about. I don't want to bore everyone with my anxiety over midterm exams and projects. I've been very frustrated at all the time I've had to devote to school. It's hard to not be able to do things in the city and enjoy my time here- makes me feel like I should've just stayed in Boston. I feel like I'm wasting time by being so involved in school. There are a lot of kids here who don't have to worry as much because their grades don't transfer back to the U.S., it's just pass/fail, so basically they can do the bare minimum and be fine. But my grades do transfer back and I have this unshakable need to get the best grade possible and have little to no damage done to my gpa. I'm trying not to care as much but it is difficult when you have spent your entire academic career placing a lot of value on grades.

I had two midterms today. I was frustrated because I spent hours upon hours studying and the vast majority of what I studied was not on the test. But after my last midterm I went and got hot chocolate and a pastry (shhhh it was necessary) and walked around the city a bit to clear my head. Today was the first cold day here. I actually had to put the hood of my sweatshirt on to keep my ears from hurting.

My plans for this weekend are to study for my journalism test (50% of my grade ahhhh!), go to the museum that I'm writing my history paper on and maybe start thinking about what I want to write, and go to Tibidabo- the amusement park on the mountain. I've been trying to get someone to go with me for awhile but no one seems interested and everyone has been going away somewhere outside of Barcelona or even outside of Spain like every weekend.

Speaking of travels, next weekend I am going to Paris and two weeks after that (Thanksgiving weekend) I am going to Belgium. I know that once I am there I will be excited and relaxed, but until then I am just anxious. I am definitely looking forward to a little vacation from this. There are a ton of things I still need to explore in Barcelona but I also need to be reminded of what else is out there in the world and take advantage of my proximity to so many amazing cities.

I've set up my travel schedule more or less for the month I'm here after the program ends.

Rome Dec 22 - 27

Madrid Dec 27 - Jan 3

London Jan 3 - 12

Leaving Barcelona and going back HOME to BOSTON on Jan 15.

I just have to buy my tickets to and from London and I'll be set. I wanted to space out the ticket and hostel purchases so my credit card companies wouldn't freak out too much. They are so eager to freeze my cards. I'm trying not to be suspicious, but honestly the purchases I need to make are unusual. I guess I should be happy that they are looking out for fraud, but having to call and beg for my card to be unblocked every time I try to use it can be very frustrating- especially when you are put on hold for a 1/2 before they tell you that it's your fault...

I went to a conference that was discussing the social interactions between American and Spanish students either in Spain or in the U.S. One of the panelists asked the American students in the audience if they had learned anything about the culture in Spain that they would take back to the U.S., something that they thought the Spanish did better here and they would benefit from doing it in the U.S. I couldn't think of a single thing that I have been exposed to here that I would want to incorporate into my life when I get back home. There is nothing that I've encountered that I've enjoyed so much that I would want to continue doing it. I guess part of that stems from the fact that I just haven't experienced that much of Spanish culture. Some of that is because I encounter Catalonian culture and some of it is because I don't put myself out there enough. At this point, I'm okay with that. I'm okay with not appreciating that much of what I've seen. I can accept that there are differences, but I don't think I'm here long enough to start to think that I should change how I live my life. Fact is, I'm going to live in the U.S. and I should continue participating in that culture- however I define it for myself.

I have started to think about whether or not I have met any of my goals for this experience yet, but I try not to let myself ruminate on that because it can be very frustrating. I am starting to realize that my expectations were set too high. I was not being realistic when I thought that this experience would somehow make me fluent in a language and teach me how to be completely independent. Those are absolutes that take much longer than 4 months to even come close to achieving, much less maintaining. So what can I accomplish here? Rather, what do I want to accomplish here? What will make me satisfied, or at least feel good about my time here?

I know that the best time to reflect on all of this is after I am back in the U.S. and can see things from a more objective standpoint. Yet, I don't have that much more time left here and maybe it is a good idea to come up with some sort of small goal for myself. I still have time to think of something that I want to do, not something that I should do or am expected to do- but something that I want to do for myself and only for myself.

I need to accept that I can only go so far in my Spanish language learning here and I'll have to put a lot more work into it when I get back to the U.S. if I can hope to put my knowledge to any use. I need to accept that I'm not going to be able to figure out definitively what I want to do with the rest of my life. Truth is, I don't know where I am headed. I don't have a next step, and I should start to see that as a good thing- that I have many options as I will soon not be constrained to the role of student. I can make decisions for myself.

I'm trying to start making those decisions while I'm here, deciding where I'm going to travel and when without regard to anyone else. If someone should decide they want to travel with me, they need to conform to my plans. This would make sense to anyone else, but it was difficult for me. I always want to accommodate other people. But right now all that matters is me and what I want to get out of this. There is no such thing as what I should do. If all I do in Paris is sit near the Eiffel Tower and read a book- that's perfectly fine. This is my trip, my experience, my life- and I don't care if someone thinks I should be doing things differently.

That came out a lot stronger than I meant it. Time to go eat dinner and maybe take advantage of my new internet discovery of a website that has almost every tv show ever for free...

nikki

p.s. I love how whenever I think I have nothing to write about I suddenly go on some sort of writing rampage...