Nikki's Semester Abroad

2010-02-28T13:19:00.000-08:00

After London I went back to Barcelona for 2 1/2 days so I could retrieve my big suitcase and catch my flight back to Boston. I really didn't take advantage of this time. I bought a final box of my favorite crunchy granola cereal and watched movies on my laptop until my computer died.

The rooms as the hostel, Kabul Backpackers in Plaza Real, don't have outlets. If you want to charge something you have to bring it to the front desk and they charge it for you. I just didn't feel comfortable leaving my laptop with someone else. It was just annoying and inconveinent to say the least. I was in an awful mood the entire time I was in Barcelona. I just wanted to leave. I had counted on being able to use a credit card to pay for my room at the hostel so I could then do something fun with the small amount of euros I had left in cash, but I was only informed once I was at the hostel that they only let you use a credit card if your charge is over 100 euros. My charge was more than I expected, but not over 100 euros. The room cost like 50 euros for the three nights, but then there was a 20 euro key deposit. So I basically had to hand over all of the cash I had when I checked in. Why can't places tell you of these policies ahead of time? When I arrived it was pouring rain and the middle of the night. I was really lucky that I had enough cash to cover the charge. So I was left with about 5 euros in cash for my last few days. I didn't want to take anymore money out because of the fees that are charged per transaction and I didn't want to have lots of money left over. So I let that 5 euros carry me through.

It frustrated me that I didn't have a ton of things I wanted to do in Barcelona. Here was my last chance, my time to say goodbye, and I had no desire. I was just done. The city and I knew we were never going to be friends and had accepted that. I still get annoyed that I don't have a ton of happy fun to share stories about my time in Barcelona. I take a lot of the blame for that. I can't change it, but I am not going to lie about it either.

Eventually the time to leave for the airport came. Besides some invasive extra security, seemingly reserved only for those passengers traveling to the U.S., my travel home was unremarkable. I watched a kid's movie with Spanish audio on the flight back and tried to get comfortable. It was pretty much impossible to enjoy the flight given the time difference messing with my head and just the physical maladies caused by sitting in a seat for 8 1/2 hours.

Much to my surprise, I got my bags and went through customs fairly quickly. I was done before my friend had even arrived. My U.S. cell phone was pretty much dead so I was stuck for a little while before she did show up. We took a cab into Boston and talked about the most random things. When I got that glimpse of the Boston skyline just as the sun was about to set I knew that I was home. I didn't have a job, a place to live, or a real direction in life- but I knew that I was finally somewhere I could feel comfortable on a day to day basis.

For about a week straight I was constantly amazed at how much English was everywhere! I caught myself straining to hear Spanish and being overly excited should I find some being spoken. I realized that my mind was craving the linguistic practice that it had started to take for granted. Since then I have joined an intercambio group here where native Spanish speakers help me with my Spanish and I help them with their English. I also attend a social meetup where everyone speaks in Spanish the entire time. It's not much, but at least I'm doing something to try to keep Spanish a part of my life.

The first thing I did when I was alone that first night back at the place I was staying temporarily was turn on the Spanish tv station and listen to the news in Spanish. I couldn't understand every word, but it was still very comforting. It amazed me that the very thing that had for so long made me so nervous and anxious and feel so inadequate and an outsider was now what calmed me. In the 6 weeks or so since that first night my confidence in the language has definitely decreased, but I have not given up hope of being able to keep up the work that is necessary.

I am seriously considering joining the Peace Corps. It is a very huge commitment, but I have a shot at being sent somewhere where my Spanish skills are very useful and I want to make a difference in the world. Right now without a job and a purpose I feel like I am wasting time. This is the perfect time for me to do something somewhat irrational and embark on another adventure...

London Part 4

2010-02-11T11:42:00.000-08:00

I didn’t eat that much food in London that was anything special. However there was a jacket potato place called Spudulike that was kind of awesome. It was a fast food place that only sells baked potatoes. They have a ton of different toppings to choose from: beans, chicken tikka, chili con carne, cheese, coleslaw, cottage cheese and chives, egg mayonnaise, prawn cocktail, & tuna and sweet corn mayonnaise- or any combination thereof. (That’s right, I copied the menu down into my notebook in order to reproduce it here. How’s that for forethought?) I had cheese and coleslaw because I couldn’t pick just one. I knew I wasn’t doing my body any favors as there was an ad for Weight Watchers right on the menu! It was like, enjoy our food and then go take care of yourself afterwards.

Speaking of fast/fat food, I went up to the Camden Markets one day and there was a food cart with the most intense donuts I have ever seen. I walked by on my way into the huge market and the drool was instantaneous. At 2 pounds each though, they were way too expensive for me. The market was gigantic. It reminded me of a flea market with tons of food vendors (meals from every part of the world it seemed like) and off beat little stores. I saw a guy trying to sell Troll dolls for upwards from 30 pounds each! I have collected Trolls since I was a kid, so I was astounded to see that people would pay that kind of money for them. Part of me was angry that I did not have any to sell and yet part of me was angry that the price was so high because I wanted to buy one and have it be the British Troll in my collection! After a little while the snow started to come down and all of the outside vendors rushed to get their products inside and to close up shop. I walked by the donut cart again and he was so desperate to get rid of the donuts that he was selling them 4 for 1 pound! I couldn’t pass that up. I picked out 4 huge donuts that were flavors like black forest cherry and triple chocolate pecan. I pretty much had to eat two right away because the bag broke, and then I ate the other two later on in the week- I think they each served as lunch. Awful, I know. When it came to food sometimes I often ate what was cheapest, which was usually the least healthy. Once my life is somewhat settled in Boston and I have a steady source of income I promise I will join a gym to work off all of my vacation padding.

I tried to get some exercise when I went into Harrods, a gigantic very upscale department store in downtown London. This place made me feel like the poorest person in the world. Whilst walking through the food court a waiter burst out singing Italian opera. In the pharmacy nothing was labeled with a price. I wondered if they were operating on the “If you need to ask you can’t afford it” principle. After some shuffling of my feet and deep breaths, I did actually ask for a price check on something. I actually tried to fake an English accent, thinking that if I could appear to be somewhat of a local I would be judged less harshly. I didn’t want to be seen as little miss tourist, but I probably was anyway.

It was most likely just my own racism acting up, but I started feeling like most of the employees of the store were minorities, mostly Asian and seemingly of African descent. (I almost said African-American, as that is what has been programmed in my head to think when I see a black person. It was interesting to be in London which is much much much more racially diverse than any other European city I’ve visited and see black people and have to remind myself that they probably weren’t African-American.) I think it was my own discomfort with dealing with notions of race and class that made me exceedingly uncomfortable when the black woman bathroom attendant was serving me and a bunch of other white ladies. I don’t like anyone doing things for me that I can do for myself, but in the context of a super rich department store I especially didn’t want someone of a minority race waiting on me. It just felt wrong. I hate feeling white privilege. I look too much into everything. Clearly.

Sure there were great things about Harrods, plenty of insane things to look at and fantasize about one day owning. There was even a section called Pet Kingdom, which had designer clothing for pets and pet sized dressing rooms. I fell in love in The Writing Room where all of these pens were in glass cases just begging to be used to write the next best seller. Pens should be used, not stared at! I wanted to liberate them from their cages! But I didn’t have hundreds and hundreds of dollars to spend on something that probably wouldn’t even functionally work for me as I’m left handed and always smear ink from regular pens.

The environment was just strange to me. London itself seems very modern when you walk down the streets. It reminds me a lot of Boston with the juxtaposition of buildings and parks. The last thing I wanted to feel was more class distinctions and exclusion.

The one thing I knew would make me feel like part of this city would be to find some improv. My withdrawal symptoms had been lessened by the improv in Madrid, but improv in my native language would have to help a million times more. I found a place that was having an improv performance all the way up in Little Venice and decided to give it a try. Again, I was taken aback at how critical I was of the improvisers’ performances. Because the show was entirely in English I could really pick apart the show and recognize both its flaws and successes. It amazed me how even in England when the audience is asked for a style of film the first response is always film noir. Why the hell do people want to see film noir so much? It is my least favorite genre (and that’s saying a lot if you know me, that I’d rather do fantasy or sci-fi than film noir) and in my opinion one of the hardest to keep up throughout an entire scene. In addition, when asked for a location, the audience wanted Montana. It was interesting to see that these folks were just as clueless about how Montana really was as I am. All of those states in the middle of the country just sort of blend together for me. And yet because the setting was Montana, the actors put on their “best” American accents and really amped up American stereotypes. They almost seemed like they were doing too good of a job!

I’d have to say the most unexpected experience I had in London was when I went to the Hard Rock Café. The HRC in London was the first, and as such has the most impressive and extensive collection of memorabilia- so much so that there is a separate room for it called The Vault. You can take a free tour of The Vault as they start every 20 minutes from inside the gift shop. It just so happened that a group of Italian tourists were waiting at the same time as me for the next tour to start. The found out that the tour guide was from Italy and pretty much demanded that the tour be given in Italian. The guide then asked me where I was from and when I told him the U.S. he said that he would have to give the tour in English because we were in an English speaking country and not everyone in the tour group could understand Italian. I don’t know why, but I offered up the compromise of having the tour in Spanish and much to my surprise the Italians accepted! They would rather have the tour in Spanish than English- and the tour guide obliged! The tour was given in Spanish and I understood everything. I talked to the guide afterwards and he said that was the first time he gave the tour in Spanish, that he barely knew the language itself but had recited the script so many times that certain words just stuck with him. We had an interesting conversation about expectations of language availability in that the Italians expected to have access to their language even though they were in an English speaking country. It reminded me of my frustration when I was in Italy and there was no English translation of the information for some of the museums. I expected Italy to cater to my language, and yet it seemed different somehow, more ridiculous that Italians would expect to encounter Italian in London. I was happy that my knowledge of Spanish reduced some of the pressure on me as it would’ve been really awkward to have all of the Italians starring at me disapprovingly while the tour was given in English because it would’ve been all my fault. At the same time it made me question the superiority of English as a language. In all of the countries I have visited where English is not the dominant language, it was always available in many venues- along with several other European languages. Yet in London it was very rare for any other language to be present. The expectation that anyone who wants to visit London should learn English is interesting to me, as you would think its proximity to mainland Europe would necessitate a more tolerant view towards a multi-linguistic society.

At the end of my time in London I actually had some extra cash on me. I had taken full advantage of the relationships between Bank of America and Barclays (NO FEES FOR ATM TRANSACTIONS!) and gotten a little carried away with withdrawals. I treated myself to a nice meal at the airport and bought an extra box of strepsils. As I waited for my plane back to Barcelona I knew that my adventure had more or less come to an end. The 2 ½ days I would be in Barcelona would be spent organizing and planning for my triumphant return stateside. There was little I wanted to do in the city. Being away from Barcelona really taught me how much I didn’t like the place. I had no desire to return, but it was a necessary next step in my European adventure.

London Part 3

2010-02-11T11:40:00.000-08:00

It is interesting to think about how different countries report on other countries’ problems and tragedies. I went to an art gallery in which an entire floor of the space was an installation piece depicting each American soldier that has been killed in Iraq or Afghanistan. The artist draws a portrait of each person onto an index card and writes details such as name and hometown. The index cards are colored to match the deceased’s skin tone. So you walk into this enormous room and there are different colored cards all around the room from floor to ceiling. They are currently arranged chronologically by date of death. Theoretically if you knew someone who died in Iraq or Afghanistan you could go into the room and locate that person’s card. However, many of the cards are far above the eye level of even a relatively tall person and since much of the writing on the cards was done in pencil, it was often difficult to read. I don’t understand why the cards aren’t better preserved. I wondered if the families of the soldiers knew that this installation existed. I was angry that a makeshift memorial to Americans killed in action was located in England. How does that make any sense? I feel like everyone in America should see the installation, should see how many cards are up on the walls. Numbers in death tolls don’t mean much until you see a physical representation. Those fallen soldiers deserve to be remembered, but especially remembered by the fellow countrymen that they died in order to protect. (This isn’t the time or place for me to get into a debate about the merits of these wars, much less the concept of war in general, but I just had to put it out there that a representation of fallen American soldiers like this should be made accessible in America. End of story.)

After Madrid I was a bit hesitant to let the weather goad me into spending a ton of time in museums, but the abundance of free exhibits drew me in out of the cold. At most places general entry to the museum was free. Best part about free entry to museums is of course- free access to restrooms! London, you get an A + for the cleanest and most convenient restrooms I have ever had the privilege to use in all of Europe (and most of what I’ve seen in the U.S.). One of my most important tidbits of travel advice is to always take note of where there are free public restrooms available as you are walking through a new city. You never know when the need might strike!

I managed to get to the Tate Modern Art Museum, The Museum of London, The National Portrait Gallery, Institute of Contemporary Art and The Museum of Brands, Marketing and Packaging. That last one was mainly just an odd curiosity since my mom works in the packaging industry. I never knew there could be an entire museum dedicated to the different ways that goods have been packaged (and thus advertised)- such as designs and common motifs. The museum of was arranged by decade. It was very unnerving to see a decade I lived through, the 90s, depicted in a museum with products that I consumed on display like relics. It was the first time that I had a real connection with what was being presented as history. The vision in my head of school children walking through in 10 or 20 years and being perplexed by a Spice Girls thermos was both highly amusing and terrifying.

One of the most interesting things I saw in a museum in all of Europe was actually in the British Museum. The Rosetta Stone was just as impressive as I thought it would be. I felt honored to be able to look at something of such significance. Seeing evidence of the plurality of languages dating back to 196 B.C. is an indescribable experience. It’s just another example of history becoming something more than words in a book. Once you are actually sharing space with a famous artifact, you develop a greater sense of appreciation and wonder for it. The stone itself was a decree from the government and it was written in hieroglyphics, Demotic (everyday Egyptian), and Greek (the language of the ruling government). So as Greek is still a known language, the stone could be used to unlock the code of hieroglyphics after it was discovered in 1799. However, because the stone was only a fragment it took 25 years to decipher the hieroglyphics. Then people could translate all of the hieroglyphic writings that had been found over centuries. The exhibit said that this breakthrough allowed us “to understand the past in its own words.” The importance of language is something that keeps coming up for me throughout my time in Europe. The Rosetta Stone is number one on the British Museum’s list of must see artifacts and judging from how everyone made a bee-line to its case shortly after entering, I’m not the only one drawn to the stone and mystified by its power. There is an appreciation for the different languages of the past. When a language dies out, an entire culture is lost with it. That is why everyone can’t “just speak English” like so many frustrated tourists kept exclaiming on the streets of Spain, Italy, France etc. And as much as Catalan has annoyed me, I must realize that if the people of Barcelona suddenly stopped speaking it- the Catalan culture would be irreparably damaged. Everyone is entitled to their language. It’s not easy to balance the need to communicate with others and the need to preserve one’s own culture. It’s not possible for everyone to know every language. So where is the compromise? I’d have to say that Americans typically don’t compromise at all. We want everyone to speak English so they understand us. We believe that English should prevail because it would be easiest for us.

America and England are obviously two different countries, but there were some similarities other than language that comforted me as I prepared to return to Boston. I missed CVS so much while I was in Spain. Those sorts of pharmacies just don’t exist. But in London they have a chain called Boots that is just like CVS, except better because they have Strepsils, bigger Cadbury chocolate crème eggs and chicken flavored potato chips! I brought some Strepsils back and savored more than my fair share of huge Cadbury eggs and delectable chicken chips. The only other place I’ve seen chicken flavored potato chips is in New Zealand, where a large part of my heart still resides. So I was comforted by Boots on many levels, as it was both familiar in its design but also extraordinary in its product line.

I was most satisfied when I found a place that sells bubble tea. I had been dying for some bubble tea the entire time I was in Spain but no one there even understood what I was talking about. I had a feeling that I might be able to find some when I stumbled upon the Chinatown section of London. Not only did I find a bubble tea place, but they had a flavor that I haven’t tried before! The cashier must’ve thought I was crazy because I was so overjoyed at my culinary discovery. The watermelon flavor was delicious and the tapioca balls were cooked to perfection. At the time it was great, but it sort of took away something that I was looking forward to do when I got back to Boston. Now I didn’t miss bubble tea that much and had to try to find something else small and silly to pin my homeward bound hopes upon.

London Part 2

2010-02-11T11:39:00.000-08:00

My degree is in English literature. I have spent countless hours reading, contemplating, interpreting and writing literature. It is pretty much a requirement for anyone with a BA in English to know and have some sort of appreciation for Shakespeare. Even if you don’t buy into all the hype, you have to recognize that he was wicked talented and his plays continue to have significance in modern times. (All you have to do is take stock of the modern movies that are updated versions of his stories.) In order to graduate from Northeastern with a BA in English you have to take a class devoted to Shakespeare. In summer 2007 I took my Shakespeare class with an amazing professor who tried with everything she had to inspire her students to enjoy the bard. I’ll admit that I needed cliffnotes to clarify some things, but overall her enthusiasm really helped me get over my aversion to Shakespeare. She told us about the Globe Theatre and what a great experience it was for her when she was able to go to London and see the reconstructed theatre in person. Later on in the term, a girl in my class took a random vacation to London and came back with pictures and lots of information about the Globe. I knew from then on that I had to go see the theatre for myself. It was one of those “someday, someday” type of goals.

I can’t adequately explain what it feels like to actually accomplish one of those types of goals. The first real thing I did in London was walk over to the Globe Theatre and take the tour. The walk over was great, as I walked by Westminster Abbey, Big Ben and then across the Westminster Bridge. It felt so good to be walking, even though it was about 25 degrees out the entire time I was there. My only regret is not getting a picture of myself inside the theatre. That’s another drawback of traveling alone, you don’t have someone you trust to take your picture anywhere. I can take as many pictures of things as I want, but it’s not the same as having proof that you were somewhere with your smiling face in the frame.

It was also disappointing that I couldn’t see a show at the Globe. Because it is an open-air theatre, they can’t have performances in the winter. I suppose I will have to find the time and money to get back there in warmer weather.

Don’t feel too bad for me; I was able to see some Shakespeare in London. Twelfth Night was playing down in the theatre district and I scored a great seat for only 5 pounds (about 9 dollars) as a student rush ticket. I only vaguely knew the plot of Twelfth Night from watching the entertaining but woefully juvenile She’s The Man (starring Nickelodeon’s own Amanda Bynes). However, I had a wonderful time and was just so happy that I had the opportunity to see a Royal Shakespeare Company production. The performances and the set design were dazzling and you really can’t beat the ticket price. It felt great to do something a little geeky that I wanted to do and not have had to con/bribe/beg someone else to do it with me. Could I have seen a Shakespeare play in the U.S.? Of course. But how often would I actually make plans to see such a play, to actually seek out the opportunity and then act upon it when I’m not on vacation? Seeing the play represented me being able to do whatever I wanted on MY vacation. For those two hours or so I didn’t have to think about anything other than the action unfolding before me. My life ceased to exist and I was able to escape… far far away until the play ended and I was shoved into the frigid air…

London cannot handle cold weather and its associated properties. For one, there was a severe shortage of rock salt and thus walking anywhere in the city was often difficult and dangerous- especially across most of the multitude of bridges over the Thames River. I was so disappointed after I walked for over an hour over snow and ice to get to Buckingham Palace to see the Changing of the Guard and it was cancelled due to ice. The city will let everyone walk about town over untreated ice but the guards can’t do it for a few feet?

Somehow I managed to be in London in the freezing cold with intermittent snowfall for a full 7 days and never take the tube. I wanted to make the most of walking around in order to see things. If you spend all of your time on the subway you never get a sense of where things in the city really are. I think I was just so happy to be in control of the map again that I wanted to prove to myself that I could get myself from point A to point B multiple times in a row. When you start out walking each morning from the same spot and walk back to the same place each night, you do get a sense of where you are located in relation to the city in general and feel a certain connection to what very temporarily is your neighborhood. Even though the hostel lost power and water at times (the pipes froze!) I still very much felt at home there. I just stole some blankets off unoccupied beds and relied on my laptop’s battery. The hostel was the place where I could relax after walking for several hours and seeing amazing things each day.

Despite the weather, I did walk in Hyde Park and peruse the Kensington Gardens. I saw the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain and was deeply moved by the memorial to the people who died in the terrorist attack back in July 2005 on London’s subway and bus systems. I felt a little strange going to a memorial for people that I didn’t know, and in a country that I wasn’t a citizen of- but in a way it comforted me to have a place to reflect on all of the innocent people who have been murdered in such awful terrorist acts. I do not personally know anyone who died in the September 11^th attacks, but I know people who know people and I think most people can agree that we were all affected by it just by seeing it happen on TV. I think it is important to have a place to go and remember and reflect.

Madrid has a memorial to the people that died in the terrorist attack on the train lines in March 2004. That was also a place prime for reflection and remembrance. I did feel like an intruder there, that a memorial should not be a tourist attraction, but at the same time I greatly benefited from being able to take a step back from a vacation and think about the reality of the world we live in today. I am grateful that I was able to visit the memorials in Madrid and London and hope that things will get resolved and going on a memorial in New York. As I have traveled to more places and gotten to see the similarities and differences, I realize that the relationship between countries is really complex. The world is getting smaller thanks to technology and improved democratic sentiments but the concept of insider vs. outsider will always remain.

When I visited these memorials I felt like I had masqueraded as an insider in order to receive something that my own group cannot yet provide for me- a physical place of peace. I do wonder what someone who saw me at the memorial in London thought of me. I do not pray, but I did bow my head and close my eyes for a moment as I stood next to the plaque with the names of the deceased. I was careful not to step on the earth that had been built up for the memorial. I treated the place with the utmost care and respect and I hope that those actions make up for the fact that I was co-opting another country’s tragedy in order to process feelings about my own.

London Part 1

2010-02-11T11:37:00.000-08:00

I was absolutely fried when I got to the Madrid airport to catch my flight to London. The flight was delayed by about an hour and I was ticked off because I figured it would be a given that I wouldn’t make the bus I had reserved to get me into London. There is a bus that goes from London Stansted airport into the city itself, and the stop is pretty close to where my hostel is so I figured it was my best choice. The airport is a good 1 ½ hours from the city, that’s why it is cheaper to fly in/out of Stansted than either Heathrow or even Gatwick. If you wanted to get the cheapest price for the bus and guarantee yourself a seat, you had to book online in advance. I thought I had given myself plenty of time to catch the bus, but a delayed flight was not in my plans.

I wandered up and down the halls of the Madrid airport, trying to amuse myself. I realized that I hadn’t purchased a Madrid postcard and was really upset. The one souvenir I allow myself is a postcard from every city I visit. I had got so caught up in doing things in Madrid and then things got crazy busy towards the end that I had forgotten to stop at one of the numerous newsstands or souvenir shops to buy my 50 euro cents or less postcard somewhere in the city. I finally found a shop in the back corner of the terminal that sold postcards and bought the one that I determined was least ugly. Something about not having a nice postcard from Madrid really upset me. It was a little thing that just put my emotions over the top. I kept choking back tears as I waited in line for the flight to board. I was so tired and emotional. I just wanted to be somewhere familiar and comfortable. It was very difficult to get used to being alone again. There was no one to share my frustrations with and no one that could attempt to get me excited about going to a city I have always wanted to visit.

London was the one city that I knew I had to see. There was nothing that was going to keep me from London. Everything else I had seen and done was great, and I am very thankful for all of the opportunities I had, but every other city was just a whim. London was the city that I had dreamed of. I remember when I was in fifth grade I planned my “English speaking countries tour” in which I would visit every country that had English as an official language. The first time I studied abroad I was able to cross New Zealand and Australia off the list, and then two years ago for my birthday I made it up to Canada. But none of these countries had the same mystifying hold over me as London, England did.

I was cranky on the plane. I cried in the bathroom and was inexcusably rude to the flight attendant and the mother and daughter next to me. Well, they probably didn’t think I was being rude, but I could definitely notice a difference between how I usually act and how I was behaving at the time. I flew with Ryanair, which is a low cost airline with not the best reputation. It wasn’t awful, but the seats were plastic, the air conditioning/heat was messed up and even though I’m only five feet tall my knees were squished against the seat in front of me. I was in a pretty judgmental and unforgiving mood. It infuriated me that none of the announcements on board were made in Spanish. How can you operate a flight and not include information in the language of the departing city? The expectation that anyone flying to England would be proficient enough in English actually angered me. It is interesting how your views on language can change after you’ve been in the linguistic minority yourself.

When we landed I rushed off the plane as soon as I could. There was still a chance I could make the bus if passport control and baggage claim didn’t take too long. For once I was happy to be an American citizen as passport control was separated into two lines- one for EU residents and one for everyone else. Me and three other people from my flight went to the “everyone else” line, therefore I got through rather quickly. It took a little while to get my bag from baggage claim, and then there was a long line to get through customs. I was starting to get really nervous that I wouldn’t make the bus while waiting in that line. The area was hidden by opaque walls, so I couldn’t see what the customs process in the UK entailed. In New Zealand, it was a big deal, everyone was interviewed and bags were screened. In Spain, it is almost non-existent- as if you have nothing to declare you just walk right out of the airport. All of a sudden the line rushed forward and I saw that there really was no customs here either, in a few minutes I was in the lobby of the airport and had to find where the busses pick up passengers.

The signage was awful and I went around in circles a few times before I realized that I could easily ask anyone that asked at the airport- as I was in a country that spoke English! I ended up finding the bus stop by myself, but it was interesting that I had the most difficulty finding where I needed to go in a place that shares my native language.

The bus hadn’t even shown up yet. I was there at 6:25 and it was supposed to leave at 6:35. I was initially happy that I had made it, but then got increasingly worried as the time passed and no bus arrived. There were other people waiting for the bus so I knew I was in the right place, but it was still pretty annoying. London was a good twenty degrees cooler than Madrid so my body was in shock. I hurried to find my hat and scarf and was a little taken aback when I could see my breath in the air.

Eventually the bus did arrive (nearly an hour late) and I got into the city and I even walked from the bus stop to the hostel without any problems. (Thank you googlemaps!) The hostel was pretty quiet and empty because it was the off-season. The guy at the front desk was really helpful and I was just so happy to finally have a place to rest. Initially I had booked a 7 person mixed sex room because it was the same price as a 10 bed female only room. But when the guy led me up to the room I saw that there were 5 guys already in the room and the other bed would remain empty for the night. I was offered the option of going to an all girls room and I decided that would be best. It was a 10 bed room but because the hostel was only about half full there were only 6 girls there that night. I met people from a bunch of different countries and was happy that they were the type of people who wanted a quiet place to rest just like I did.

Wireless internet was only 9 pounds for an entire week so I took advantage of that and was on the internet for the next 3 hours or so. I had so much email to catch up on and honestly was so happy to have the time to read CNN and check facebook. I even watched a TV show because it just felt so good to do something normal and low key. When you are traveling for so long at one time your vacation starts to feel like work because you are always pressured to be doing something extraordinary. But now that I was by myself I could do whatever I wanted- even if that was nothing. So my first night in London I ordered some thai food from the bar downstairs and went on the internet. It was glorious. I slept for a solid nine hours and then was completely ready to accomplish my main goal for London- go to the Globe Theatre.

Madrid Part 5

2010-01-14T08:04:00.000-08:00

BECAUSE I WROTE SO MUCH ABOUT MADRID IT IS POSTED IN INSTALLMENTS- YOU SHOULD START READING FROM PART 1 :)

We headed back on the metro in order to catch a bus out to Xanadu, a mall with an indoor skiing/snowboarding mountain. My boyfriend is an avid snowboarder, he even teaches kids how to ride, so he really wanted to check it out. Since the amusement park had pretty much been a failure, we figured a trip out to the mall on our last day in Madrid could possibly salvage some of our time. I have never been snowboarding or skiing before because I am very accident prone. I didn’t think it would be a good idea for me to start now, in a foreign country and a few days after my medical insurance had expired. But I told him that if he wanted to get in some boarding time I could wander around the gigantic mall for a little while. Ultimately, he decided not to board, seeing the course from the outside and snapping some pictures was enough. We decided to grab some dinner in the food court. There was a huge donut stand in the middle of the food court that my boyfriend couldn’t ignore. He pretty much demanded that we get a half dozen. They did look pretty good and there were some interesting flavors. Some of the donuts were called “americano” which apparently means cream filled. Don’t worry Mom, we ate the donuts after we’d already had dinner. I had a banana one, which for some reason didn’t agree with me as about an hour later I threw it up. Perhaps some chemical in the flavoring did me in. I don’t really believe in those claims of something as awful for you as a donut being 100% organic.

The mall was oddly calming. As much as I hate shopping, malls remind me of my childhood as there wasn’t much else to do for fun on Long Island. It amazed me at how there were no differences between the mall in Madrid and the malls from my childhood. Despite the geographical and chronological differences, a mall is pretty much constant. Americans might have the reputation of being overly materialistic consumers, but I think consumerism is a facet of any modern society in the developed world. I did take notice of how every store had signs in the windows advertising their sales. (The signs often had the word for sale in five or six different languages, just in case there was any confusion.) Signs of the economic depression are evident in Madrid, as Spain has an unemployment figure at least three times that of the U.S. So people were shopping, but perhaps they were being manipulated by the apparent money that could be saved by “acting now.” At any rate, the rest of the evening consisted of me waiting outside of stores with bored husbands as my boyfriend shopped around for clothing that he doesn’t need. He has a problem and I enable it.

Soon enough we were back on the bus to Madrid, tired and stuffed with mall food. All I wanted to do was get back to the room, pack and then go to sleep. I knew that we would have to settle out the payment with the hostel that night. We had tried to pay by credit card when we checked in, but we were told to just do it later. Every time I talked to the people that worked at the hostel it was in Spanish. I felt compelled to speak in Spanish because it was such a small hostel and the workers were clearly locals. In the end it probably would have been better if I’d at least spoken a little bit in English. I had been uncertain of their English comprehension, but when an issue with the money came up they clearly demonstrated that they had no problems with the English language. The day before I had asked if my boyfriend could pay for the room with his credit card, even though they had my credit card information because I had booked the room. The woman told me that we would have to pay in cash because the credit card machine was broken. I had read online that she might do this, that they don’t tell you beforehand that they only take cash- and it’s only when you are already there that they tell you the real story. We had spoken in Spanish, but she had been clear- at least in my mind. She said that we had to pay in cash, that it was necessary. I told her okay and that was the end of the conversation. We were ticked off because my boyfriend was pretty much out of cash, but could afford to put the charge on his no/low interest credit card. If he paid for the room we would be almost even with the money we’d spent for the trip. We decided that we would check one last time if we could pay with the card before I went to the ATM and did the massive withdrawal. I really don’t like having that much cash on me at one time, so I didn’t want to take the money out until it was absolutely necessary.

So we came back that last night and I asked if there was any way we could pay by card. I also wanted to make sure that they were going to charge me the correct amount of money, the price they had quoted to me in the confirmation email back in early December. She was very short with me, telling me in Spanish that the machine was broken, that I knew this and that I had to give her the money right now. ¡Damelo! (give it to me) she yelled. I told her I had to go get the money from the ATM and she was like freaking out that I didn’t have the cash on me in that moment. At least there was no argument over the price, but still- she had no right to yell at me like that. I went back to the room and told my boyfriend what had happened. He was upset that she had yelled at me. I asked him to come with me to go to the ATM that was across the street. I tried to take out the full amount but it was more than the ATM’s limit, so I took out the limit and added the rest from the little amount of euros I had left. (Since London was my next stop, I didn’t want to be carrying around a lot of a currency that wasn’t valid.) The second we opened the door to the hostel upon our return the woman shouted “You have the money!” and came running. It was all English after that. I gave her the cash, she counted it and said thank you. I didn’t want to speak with her anymore.

But my boyfriend had things to say. The entire time he had been quiet, barely interacting with the staff- always letting me ask questions and such, seemingly because of the language thing. He told the woman that it was rude not to tell people in advance that they can’t pay by credit card. Of course she didn’t like this. She told him that it was all the same to her if someone paid by card or by cash and that it was my fault because I should’ve told her the day before that we needed to pay by card, that she could have called up the credit card company and asked for a manual charge, something like that. She said that I told her cash was no problem and thus she hadn’t done anything wrong. I didn’t want to fight with her. I just wanted to get out of there, get back to the room and lie down. My head was spinning in anger. It frustrated me that if only I’d pushed a little further we might have been able to use the card and I wouldn’t be out hundreds of euros. (I still have plenty of money, but it sucks to not have money that you were counting on.) I was adamant that she hadn’t told me of any option to use the card, but like I said I didn’t want to argue. My boyfriend had some more words for her, even as I pulled on his arm telling him that we should just leave. Once back in the room I was crying and telling him that it wasn’t my fault. He didn’t think it was, he was just upset that I didn’t defend myself. I guess part of what held me back was the question of whether or not the misunderstanding was because the conversation between the woman and I had been in Spanish. Maybe if I had spoken in English I could’ve pressed harder and found this option of using the card? Eventually I calmed down, but it hurt me a lot that I was being blamed for something.

I stayed up way too late and was overly emotional that my boyfriend and I had to say goodbye again. We’d had our ups and downs together during our time in Rome and Madrid, and I’d just started feeling like we were getting to know each other, how we’d both changed in our time apart. He had to leave early for a train back to Barcelona so we said goodbye at 4:30am and I went back to sleep soon after that. At about 9:30 there was loud knocking and I thought that they were barging in my room because I had overslept and missed the check out time of 11am. But it wasn’t knocking on my door, rather they were doing some sort of construction on the floor upstairs. That made me even more thankful that I was leaving Madrid in only a matter of hours.

After a hot chocolate at a wonderful coffee shop around the corner, I headed to the airport on the metro. I was upset. I felt really burnt out. I started to think that leaving London until the end of my European adventure was a bad idea because it was the one place that I had always wanted to travel to- I can’t remember not wanting to go to London. I had saved the best for last, but I didn’t feel like my mind or body could handle anymore traveling. I was a bit miserable in the airport, especially when my flight was delayed and I realized that I hadn’t bought a postcard in Madrid. The only souvenir I get myself is a postcard from each place I visit and I had forgotten to get one for Madrid. It made me angry. I had to walk all the way to the furthest section of gates of the departures area before I found a newspaper stand that had a few postcards. They weren’t very appealing, but I picked the least offensive one and got in line in order to board my flight to London.

The flight was okay, but I was still overly emotional. I wrote down some random thoughts in my moleskin journal and had that lovely experience of water droplets ruining the page. I was able to calm myself in the airplane bathroom. I even slept a little bit.

I just prayed that I would have a good time in London, that somehow I would be able to regain some energy and get my mind into a good place.

Luckily, that is exactly what happened.

nikki

Madrid Part 4

2010-01-14T08:03:00.001-08:00

Towards the end of the week in Madrid we found some non-touristy things to amuse ourselves with. My boyfriend and I are big fans of improvisational comedy. He’s in a formal troupe and does all sorts of shows. I’m a casual player. I’ve really missed having improv in my life. There is no way I can do improv in Spanish so I’ve been without it for a long time. But we found out that there was an improv show going down in Madrid and decided it was worth it to check it out even if we couldn’t understand what was going on. When we arrived at the theatre we were given slips of paper with an instruction at the top to write a phrase that was appropriate for… well something, but I didn’t know what the last word of the instruction meant! So I wrote a random phrase in Spanish and my boyfriend wrote something in English. We knew that the performers would use the slips of paper as inspiration for their scenes. As the nature of improv is to go with whatever happens, to never question your first instinct, whatever we wrote would be made appropriate. I was very nervous that I wouldn’t enjoy the performance, that my frustration at not understanding what was being said would take all of the fun out of it for me. I didn’t understand how my boyfriend could be excited to see a show in a language he doesn’t know. I saw the show as a test of how far my language comprehension had come, if my Spanish knowledge and love for improv could come together for an unforgettable evening.

Well I definitely passed the test. I’d say I understood about 75% of what was said, and another 10% was understood through the context of the scene and the physical actions the performers employed. For the most part I was able to laugh along with the Spanish audience. My improv critic returned and I could even evaluate the performers’ skills or lack thereof. I could even imagine how I would respond differently in the scene! I was so happy that we had taken the chance on the show. It was a fabulous evening in that I got a taste of a hobby that has long been withheld from me and I was given undeniable evidence that my language comprehension has vastly improved. It might seem at times like I had it too easy in Barcelona, that there was so much English around that I didn’t really have the opportunity to learn the language to an appreciable extent. But I’d have to contend that just having my classes taught in Spanish really helped my language skills. However, being able to do something fun because I “know” Spanish was an amazing experience. It is fantastic to see that what I have been struggling with in the classroom actually has real world consequences. It’s not like calculus or the history of Soviet Russia, where you are constantly asking “When am I going to need to know this?” There are practical reasons for studying Spanish, as it can help you get ahead in the professional world, but there is also the motivation to be included in another segment of the population- even if it is only in a passive way. I need to continue to challenge myself when I get back to the U.S. by watching television shows in Spanish and keeping up with the language exchange group- in general taking advantage of any opportunity that I might find. As frustrating as this process has been and will continue to be, that improv show demonstrated the possibilities of knowing another language, how I can benefit from this knowledge. It made me want to commit further to my language studies so I can continue to enjoy things that were previously inaccessible because they were broadcast in Spanish. Something I need to do is find an effective way to learn vocabulary. You can study grammar all you want but if you don’t know what the words mean, you can’t communicate. I’d say at least 65% of what I didn’t understand was due to a vocab deficiency (or possibly slang that I’m not aware of, which can also be learned).

We visited el parque de attraciones (literally, attraction park) which is an amusement park in Madrid. It is easily accessible by metro. It was really strange to be able to see the roller coasters from the metro station. The park was pretty small compared to your average Six Flags, but there were a few rides that looked delightful (and by delightful I mean terrifying). We were quick to get in line for the impressive looking roller coaster that shoots you pretty much straight up. My boyfriend had read about the coaster online and was psyched to ride it. Because it was January (cold) and there was the threat of rain, there weren’t a lot of people in the park. Lines were really short, which made us happy because we figured we’d be able to get on more rides in a short period of time. But for this kick ass roller coaster there needed to be 12 riders (to fill the entire car) before the ride would run. I’ve never encountered this before. I’ve been on several roller coasters with just my boyfriend, and even a few just by myself. But the big sign above the room where you wait in line said in both Spanish and English that we would have to wait until there were enough people to fill the car. We waited for a good 15 minutes before there were finally 11 people, and we convinced the ride operator to let it run. It was definitely worth the wait.

If the stupid rule wasn’t in place, we would have gone on again immediately, but we didn’t want to waste time waiting when there were other rides we wanted to experience. The next roller coaster had small cars of only 4 people and he was running plenty of them with only 3 people. Due to the lack of wait, people were going on many times in a row- which just made the cars continue to run. It was a good system.

But the situation was ridiculous when we tried to go on the next roller coaster. We ran to join the line as the car had just pulled into the station and people were getting on. But of course just before us the car had filled up and there were no more seats. We would have to wait for the next car. There was only one other person waiting to ride when the car came back to the station. No one returned to ride again. We were waiting and waiting and finally the ride operator came out, turned his back to my boyfriend and I, and told the girl behind us in line in Spanish that the ride wouldn’t go without a full car- 24 people. I immediately turned around and asked him to repeat the number of people, in case I had heard him incorrectly, but I hadn’t. It also ticked me off that he deliberately only addressed the girl behind us, assuming that neither my boyfriend nor I understood Spanish. I wouldn’t expect him to say it in English. But he should have addressed everyone that the message pertained to! It seemed insane that we would have to wait for that many people to magically come along. It was very frustrating as we stood shivering in the cold as small groups of people would come up to the line, realize the situation and just walk away. If no one stayed, the coaster would never run! It took almost a ½ hour before there were enough people. The guy was a definite stickler for the ridiculous rule as he refused to run it five minutes earlier when there were 22 people. The ride itself was very disappointing after such a long wait. We were in the front row, because we surely weren’t going to settle for anything less after the wait. But as we flew through the air, we were stung in our faces by what felt like bb pellets. It had started to rain.

Once we were off the ride we put up our umbrellas and went back to the first roller coaster because we wanted to get to ride it again before it started to really pour. It took a little while, but eventually we did get 12 people in line and got the ride operator’s attention. He came out and told us that the coaster would not run in the rain. It was really only drizzling at the moment. My boyfriend and I have been on a ton of roller coasters in rain much heavier. The operator said something about the ride not being able to operate if the tracks were wet. Of course he said this in Spanish so I had to translate for my boyfriend, who didn’t take the news very well. We both concluded that it was complete b.s. and tried to go on other rides, but it seemed that they had all closed. Even the damn ferris wheel was abandoned. This really upset me because a ferris wheel can be romantic and I figured it would be nice to go for a little ride with my boy. There is no reason whatsoever that a ferris wheel can’t run in a little rain. The entire park was deserted and we regrettably left the park- after having gone on 5 rides. The entrance fee was 30 euros per person… so you do the math. My boyfriend said that he was still happy that we came because he had really wanted to ride that one coaster, but I knew that we were both a little bitter about the situation. We figured that the park used the rain as an excuse to close down completely for the rest of the day, which in our minds cheated paying customers out of the experience they paid for.

Madrid Part 3 (New Years!)

2010-01-14T08:00:00.000-08:00

So I tried to concentrate on the intangible aspects of our time in Madrid. I will definitely remember what it was like to countdown to midnight on New Year’s Eve in Puerta del Sol! We were actually a little concerned that we had missed it as we walked home towards Puerta del Sol on the night of the 30^th and there were tons of people in the square partying it up. We were confused, but after repeatedly checking our calendars and seeing that New Year’s Eve it was not, we decided to just go to the hostel. As midnight hit we could hear the screams and shouts in the square from our room. We went outside to see what else was going on, but things were dispersing by the time we got out. We had no idea what had gone on until I looked up “celebrations in Madrid December 30^th” in google and was informed of “nochevieja falsa”. “Nochevieja” is often a way of saying New Year’s Eve. Thus the night before New Year’s Eve was fake New Year’s Eve- an excuse for the Madrileños to party two nights in a row. The websites said that nochevieja falsa is pretty much the same as nochevieja except there aren’t fireworks or as many spectators.

The others in our hostel could not believe that we were going to bed before 1am, especially during the holiday festivities. Spaniards usually don’t leave for a night out until after midnight and party it up until 5 or 6 in the morning, usually depending on when the metro starts running again. I don’t think I’ll ever live that kind of lifestyle. Honestly, there wasn’t much for us to do at night because we don’t drink and aren’t willing to pay ridiculous cover charges to stand in a room full of people with music blasting so loud your ears ring for days afterward. It especially didn’t make sense to us to party and go crazy the night before the real thing. Doesn’t doing it twice take some of the fun out of it? I was happy that we hadn’t seen what had gone on that night because it would have taken all of the surprise and wonder out of the actual celebration the next night.

The real New Year’s Eve bash was a little like Halloween as so many people had on crazy wigs in every color and hairstyle you could think of. My boyfriend and I didn’t wear anything special. However, we did take part in the tradition of eating 12 grapes at midnight, one for each stroke of the clock. For some reason, this was different to me than dressing up in a crazy outfit. Even though I’ve never eaten grapes at midnight on New Year’s Eve before, I knew I would do so as soon as I planned to be in Madrid for New Years. Everyone that knew of my travel plans reminded me to eat the grapes and I had been a little worried that I wouldn’t be able to find any in the stores so close to the holiday. Much to my surprise, grapes were actually plentiful. Many stores sold 12 grapes in individual containers marked as 12 uvas de la suerte (12 grapes of luck) for a ridiculously expensive amount and there were people selling ziplock bags of 12 grapes hours before midnight right in the middle of the square.

My boyfriend and I thought that we were being smart by buying a large bunch of grapes in the supermarket and just collecting the 24 we needed ourselves. But when the clock struck midnight we were foiled- the grapes had seeds in them! I’ve never seen anything but seedless grapes in the supermarket in the U.S. so I never even thought of the possibility of seeds. When speed of consumption is the goal, seeds are not advisable! I did my best to chow down on the grapes, as not finishing in time is considered bad luck. I swallowed the seeds and all, but still had three or four in my hand when the clock stopped chiming. I popped the rest in my mouth and swallowed hard, darting my eyes around nervously and hoping that no one else had noticed. But then I realized that everyone was too busy chewing on their own grapes to care about me risking choking in order to finish mine. My boyfriend was still eating grapes and delicately picking out the seeds when the fireworks and light show were going on. The light show was interesting, as the different names and flags of the countries in the European Union were projected onto the building that is called Real Casa de Correos because it was originally built as a post office, but is now the headquarters of the President of Madrid. (Spain’s governmental system is hard to understand and even harder to explain. Like Catalonia, Madrid is an autonomous community and thus has its own leadership.) Spain took over the rotating presidency of the European Union and will hold the position for six months starting January 1^st. I didn’t know that the presidency rotated and am still a little confused about it, in light of the recent election of that Belgian guy as the President of the EU. This website explains a little bit of how important this is for Spain http://www.eu2010.es/es/index.html

So I feel lucky that I got to see this special light show. I recorded a part of it and posted the video on my youtube account (nikkif610) if you are curious. It was really impressive. I found it cool that the names of each country were displayed in Spanish and then in each country’s native language so it was a multi-faceted international education. For example, Denmark is Dinmarca in Spanish and Danmark in Danish. It has always fascinated me how the spellings of places change in different languages. Sometimes it makes sense because of the different ways that letters are pronounced, such as how Philadelphia becomes Filadelfia in Spanish because the ph sound is an f in Spanish. (I actually have issues spelling words like photograph in English now because I am so used to the f being the ph sound!)

I am just so thankful that the weather held out as we all stood in Puerta del Sol waiting for and then reveling in the New Year. Hours before it was actually hailing as we watched the annual New Year’s Eve San Silvestre Vallencana 10km race. The amateur’s run was entertaining as lots of people ran in costumes. There were elves, cows, pigs, elephants and fake police officers. My personal favorite was Pac Man, with SpongeBob coming in at a close second. I can not imagine running with a big costume like that on your shoulders, especially in the rain and hail disgusting mix. I’m sure the crowd and general mood of the race would’ve been better if the weather had been more hospitable, but it was still an interesting experience to witness such a unique race. Streets were roped off to traffic, but there were no barricades to keep back the crowds. People crossed the path of the runners whenever they felt like it. It seemed kind of dangerous. It was so different than the Boston Marathon (the only other large scale race I’ve seen). People take the professional race seriously, but even during that race the crowd was dangerously close to the runners as they tried to keep up pace and pass through the people who should’ve been sticking to the sidelines.

For the most part my boyfriend and I did not have a hard time staying together. Even when it was pouring rain and the sidewalks were packed with people under umbrellas we were able to keep track of each other. But one night we got separated on the metro. They closed the Puerta del Sol station for New Year’s Eve starting at 9 o’clock and it was just about 9 when we were switching lines at the station. The train we wanted to switch to was waiting there when we got to the bottom of the stairs and I charged forth at top speed to make it on because I thought it was the last train of the night. I figured he was right behind me because he’s a runner (ran in last year’s Boston marathon in fact) but when I turned around he wasn’t right there. I stuck my bag in the door as it started to close, figuring it would open back up once the sensors noticed something in the way, but the doors didn’t open! As hard as I and some of the other people on the train with me tried to open the door it wouldn’t budge. I wrestled the bag free and the train left the station, and he was left on the platform alone. I could not understand why the doors wouldn’t open again. What if something more sensitive than a bag was stuck in the door?

I got out at the stop we were going towards and waited above ground for him, thinking that he’d have to walk. It was crowded outside the station as people were getting psyched for a night of merriment and I was nervous that we wouldn’t be able to find each other that easily. There was nothing I could do. The lack of means of communication was frightening to me. Of course we did find each other. It turns out that the train I was on was not the last and after a little he exited the station and we were able to go to dinner.

We went to a restaurant called Foster’s Hollywood that says that it has American food. It seemed like a poor man’s version of Hard Rock Café with the minimal American memorabilia of questionable authenticity on the walls. I’m fairly certain none of the waiters spoke English. It took me a few minutes to realize that they were asking us if we wanted the smoking or non-smoking section. Smoking section? I’m not that young, I can remember when there were smoking sections in restaurants in the U.S. My mother smokes, so our family often sat in that section. I remember people being a little angry when the tougher anti-smoking in public places laws came into effect, but eventually they were accepted and by now are considered normal. I don’t think such laws would ever work in Spain (or many other places in Europe). There just isn’t a demand for change. And yet in the restaurant we were told that we would have to wait to sit in the non-smoking section but there were plenty of tables available in the smoking section. It could’ve just been chance (we were in the restaurant early for dinner- only about 8 o’clock) but I’d like to think that the lack of smokers in the restaurant signals some kind of change towards a healthier society. I will never accept that smoking is part of someone’s culture. It’s a closed minded attitude, I’ll fully admit that. If you smoke my opinion of you plummets. I can’t help it. So it’s hard for me to respect a culture that promotes toxins. I know it’s tricky. Smoking isn’t illegal. People have a right to do it. But I can’t stand when someone else’s decision negatively impacts my wellbeing.

Madrid Part 2

2010-01-14T07:57:00.000-08:00

My Spanish definitely helped us in a variety of different situations. For some reason we were still craving pizza after Rome and went on a hunt for a decent pizzeria. We found a place in a little alley that claimed to be “authentic Italian”. My boyfriend likes pizza but hates tomato sauce, so premade pizzas generally don’t cut it. The place advertised different combinations of ingredients, but also said that it makes them from scratch. So we figured we could ask for a pizza without sauce and with a couple ingredients that we both liked. He pushed me inside the little store so I could work my Spanish magic and order the unusual dish. You see, he wanted potatoes on it- and thus I got the guy to go next door and get some french fries to put on top of the pizza! I doubt he would’ve done that if I’d given him the order in English. I didn’t know that he’d have to go next door to get the fries, otherwise I wouldn’t have asked, but I’d like to think that my ability to communicate this customer’s desires helped create the lovely pizza that we devoured in our hostel room.

There are plenty of other examples of needing to use Spanish to get the attention that we deserved, such as when we needed to purchase a memory card reader. My boyfriend had some pictures he wanted to save on my computer so he could free up space on his memory card and take more snapshots of our travels but we didn’t have the cable to connect his camera with my laptop. We went to super pricey El Corte Ingles because I didn’t know where else would have the gadget. It took a little while as the place was slammed but I did get someone’s attention. (Even though it was after Christmas, people were still buying tons of gifts because El Día de los Reyes Magos (not sure how to translate it into English, literally it is the day of the magic kings) is January 6^th and lots of families exchange gifts at that point. But in between that craziness with gift-wrapping and teenagers whining about wanting the latest edition of an impossibly small digital camera, the saleswoman had a second to answer my questions. We bought one and when it didn’t work we had to return it. I was nervous about returning it because we had ripped it out of the box and attempted to use it. Would they believe us that it didn’t work? Theoretically anyone could buy a reader, use it to download what they want, and then return it to the store. But after a little explanation they had no problem giving us a full cash refund. That was a challenge for me, to fight for something in another language- especially when I would be hesitant to have the same conversation in English.

After that first afternoon, we didn’t have a single day without rain while we were in Madrid. Everyday my shoes would be soaked and I’d whine about being wet on top of being cold in our room. The awful weather made us seek refuge in a ton of museums. Individually they were fascinating, but looking back it’s hard to appreciate it all because it was just too much for the brain to absorb. My boyfriend and I took notes on things we found particularly interesting so we could reflect later on because at the time we were both too cranky on art overload to appreciate what we were doing in the moment. The Reina Sofia museum is free several nights a week from 7 until 9 so we went twice and probably could’ve used another two hour block- it’s that big. The first time we went all I wanted to see was Guernica, Pablo Picasso’s painting in response to the bombings during the Spanish Civil War. I’ve seen reproductions in books a dozen or so times, but I expected seeing it in person to be a moving experience. In general you are allowed to take pictures in the Reina Sofia, but before you go into the Guernica room (yes the painting has its own room, its that large in physical size and reputation) there is a big sign saying no photography or video is allowed. Of course this didn’t stop several people from taking pictures, even when they were yelled at by the museum workers. I guess the work meant a lot to many people in the room. Tons of people just stood there staring at it for a while. I looked and looked but it just didn’t click with me. Even after all the research I had done about bombings during the Spanish Civil War, I just didn’t get it. Maybe that was my problem; I’d seen so many literal representations of the death and devastation that an abstract painting didn’t do the tragedy any justice in my mind. I am still thankful that I had the opportunity to see the painting in person, but it wasn’t an experience like I thought it would be.

We quickly realized that a two-hour block (which was actually less when you figure in waiting in line and then getting kicked out 15 minutes before the official closing time) was not nearly enough to see what we wanted to see. We felt really rushed and I didn’t help anything by tripping off a ramp and slamming the entire left side of my body on the concrete floor. We were both in a bad mood when we left and when the food vendor around the corner from the museum pretended not to understand me when I asked for a potato I just lost it. I was so angry in general, and it was easy to just be mad at this guy. I clearly indicated I wanted a sweet potato, used the words from the damn menu even, and he just asked if I wanted the chestnuts. What the hell? It made me so frustrated that my Spanish failed me. It wasn’t good enough. My knowledge wasn’t good enough. I couldn’t fake being a native. I can’t blend in. I’ll always be seen as different and that just gets so damn irritating. I will definitely not miss being treated as something inferior based on what I look like, that’s for sure. Obviously I’m a bit over sensitive when it comes to this, but I hate how it makes me feel- to be judged on things I can’t control. I try to focus on the positive, on all the times that I did communicate successfully in Spanish and proved that I did know what was going on, but of course it’s the failures that stay with me.

One of which was not for a lack of trying. There was a tourist pass that you could buy that gave you unlimited access to the bus and metro within the city center as well as transportation to a handful of tourist interest places outside of Madrid. I had wanted to do a day trip out to Toledo, which was one of the places included in the deal. All I wanted to know was how to get to Toledo using the pass because the only way I could find was to take a Renfe long distance train, which the pamphlet explicitly stated was not covered by the pass. We went to the bus station that my guidebook said the buses to Toledo leave from and asked at the info desk but the woman just thrust a piece of paper at me with the name and location of a different bus station. I went downstairs and asked the guy at the metro information desk and he said he could sell me the pass but couldn’t tell me any information about it. He had no idea how you would get to Toledo using the metro system. I then asked the guy at the Renfe information desk because Renfe also has a short distance service that would be covered by the pass. He said that the only way you can get to Toledo on Renfe is the long distance- which the pass doesn’t cover. So all I knew was that there was a bus that leaves from another station that goes to Toledo. It frustrated me so much that even asking all of my questions in Spanish didn’t help me to get any information. We didn’t buy the passes, only to find out the next day when we got on the bus that the mysterious bus was part of the metro bus network and would’ve been covered by the pass-saving us some precious euros. I still don’t understand how the bus network is but is not connected to the metro in Madrid…

Toledo ended up being a nice break from the city as the weather was fair and we could walk up and down the streets at our leisure. The town is very old and used to be the capital of Spain back in the 1500s I think. Most of the buildings are thus very old and resemble castles. (See picture above.) I hated how jaded I felt as I walked around the town, as it reminded me of Sitges and Sevilla and a couple of other places that I’d already seen. It frustrated me that my mind was already starting to blend my experiences together, and something that would have fascinated me a few months ago was almost boring to me now. Despite the intriguing architecture and gorgeous views, I was not profoundly affected by our time in Toledo. I had been looking forward to it because I had read about how it was like stepping back in time, but when I was there I realized that I’ve already had that experience, several times in fact as I’ve traveled around Europe. Things are old. I get it. I still took pictures and some video because I know that after I return to the U.S. I will miss that history in the atmosphere. We went to the Museum of Torture and squirmed at the descriptions and physical remnants of torture devices. Outside of the museum, there was a display of a burlap sack over a mannequin that immediately made me think of those pictures of the prisoners from Abu Ghraib, with that whole torture scandal. I guess it is interesting to think of how in some ways we haven’t evolved that much over time. But again, in the moment, it was just too difficult to fully appreciate Toledo. It’s not that I’ve been taking my travels for granted exactly, just wasn’t dazzled by anything physical in Madrid (or Toledo).

Madrid Part 1

2010-01-14T07:55:00.000-08:00

I love Madrid’s metro system. It reminded me of Paris’ subway, with all of the pretty colors and big informative signs everywhere. It was super easy to get from the airport to our hostel as the metro connects them both. My only complaint about the metro is that you have to pay an extra euro per ticket if you are coming from or going to one of the airport stations. The ticket machine did not do the best job in explaining this charge, so I asked the man behind the info desk so I knew I had it right. One euro per ticket plus another euro as the airport supplement fee. Wonderful. My conversation with him was the first time that I used Spanish since before Rome. I was surprised at how quickly I switched to what is slowly becoming my second language.

Our hostel was in Puerta del Sol, which is considered the center of the city by some. The Sol metro stop is where several of the different lines meet, so it was a little crazy when we first got off the train. When we finally emerged from underground, we were in the middle of a bustling little square with people, food and shops everywhere. After a little fiddling with the googlemap I printed out, we figured out where to go and found the hostel. The main door to the building was pretty fancy. There was a security system, so we buzzed the floor of the hostel and I must’ve been out of it from no sleep and traveling because my boyfriend heard a response and before I knew it we were buzzed in. The lobby of the building was impressive, as was the staircase leading up to the second floor where the hostel was. My hopes for the quality of the hostel went soaring. But then the door to the hostel opened and I had to quickly adjust my expectations.

It wasn’t awful. We had our own room as promised, which included a sink and small shower. The shower was literally in the room, something I’ve never seen before. It was freestanding with faulty glass doors that took some finagling in order to close properly and prevent water from spraying onto our belongings. We discovered that we had a little balcony, as an entire wall of the room was really a gigantic door that could be opened to expose the entire room to the elements. The amazement at the view (we could see the center of Puerta del Sol down the street) quickly wore off as we realized that pretty much any heat we had in the room would be lost through this opening. Even when the door was completely shut and bolted, you could still feel the breeze from outside. It didn’t help that the two small radiators in the room barely worked. I was cold whenever I was in our room throughout our stay. At night I slept under three blankets as well as sweatpants, long sleeved shirt and sweatshirt. With all of this and my boyfriend’s body heat it was bearable. I never considered myself a cold person, but for some reason the situation did not agree with me. The other unfortunate side effect of the balcony set up was that there was no natural sunlight when the door was closed (which it needed to be because it is freakin winter). It was very disorienting to wake up and have no idea if it was the middle of the night or noon. It made it hard to get out of bed because I wasn’t receiving any sort of natural signals that it was indeed time to start the day. I’ve always had some sort of window in my bedroom, always took this for granted. But now I realize just how important and beneficial windows are!

After all of the rain in Rome we wanted to take advantage of the clear sky in Madrid as long as it lasted. We walked randomly throughout the city, using a map only when deemed completely necessary. There are similarities between Madrid and Barcelona. Anyone could tell that they are in the same country. But Madrid felt colder, harder, more impersonal- which is saying a lot since I never felt comfortable in Barcelona! What struck me the most about Madrid was how much I had to use my Spanish, or rather how often people accepted that I spoke Spanish and responded to me in Spanish.

Usually in Barcelona (and also in Sevilla and Alicante) people don’t want to talk to me in Spanish because they can tell I’m not native and presumably don’t want to have to search for what I’m trying to say in the middle of grammar mistakes and mispronunciations. But in Madrid I always spoke in Spanish and I’d say 95% of the time people spoke back to me in Spanish. Everyday I had to communicate and use the language that I had just spent 3 ½ months trying to improve. I know for certain that I could not have communicated in Spanish like I did if I had gone to Madrid in the beginning of my time in Europe. I felt like I was constantly translating for my boyfriend. I’m sure some people spoke English, but I did feel like most were not comfortable with that language.

That first day we went into a sandwich/wrap place and were staring at the menu on the wall when the guy behind the counter asked us in Spanish what we wanted. When we didn’t respond right away he asked us in broken English if we knew Spanish and said that we probably knew Spanish better than he knew English, but he’d try to translate items on the menu if he could. I thanked him for his help, but it was awkward. I didn’t know how to explain that I “knew” Spanish but might still have vocab issues. What does it really mean to “know” a language anyway? It is so difficult to truly be bilingual. There will always be deficiencies in my Spanish knowledge. My New Year’s resolution is to do as much as I can to retain my Spanish skills and keep working at becoming more efficient and comfortable in the language. I don’t really know what “fluent” means anymore, as it seems an unattainable goal. All I can do is keep my knowledge up to date by practicing and seeking out more information. It’s not the race to a finish line I thought it was. I’m never going to get to the top of the linguistic competency mountain; I’ll just keep climbing higher and further away from ignorance.

A Roman Adventure

2010-01-04T16:47:00.000-08:00

It’s unfortunate, but the first thing I will think of when I reflect on our time in Rome is rain. Granted it was very warm for December (warmest Christmas I’ve ever experienced) but I would’ve taken 20 degrees cooler if there had been clear skies. There was never a period of 24 hours without showers. Turns out my shoes are not ever remotely waterproof and the dampness did not help me recover from what was probably a mild sinus infection. (The last day or so in Rome I did start to feel better and I didn’t let the ickiness prevent me from doing anything during the journey. Thank god for Strepsils and two random doses of Tylenol cold and sinus that I found in the bottom of my bag.)

I have to say that the Rome airport was really dirty and depressing in the arrivals area. It took forever to get our bags and then the signs were confusing as to what train we had to take to get into the city. All of a sudden I was so shy and scared of talking to anyone because I know about three words of Italian. My boyfriend had no such tentativeness and slowly I learned to take his lead and just hope that whomever I was talking to understood English. Most of the time there was little misunderstanding as we stuck to the more touristy attractions.

That first night we went over to the Trevi Fountain and fought our way past the massive amount of people who were practically worshipping it despite the downpour. We did the whole I’ll take your picture if you take mine thing with another couple and got a decent snapshot without our umbrellas. We made 1 euro cent wishes in the fountain, which I thought was funny because it shows that we don’t believe too much in luck because we were only willing to part with a miniscule amount of money.

We wandered around for a long time trying to find somewhere to eat. Most places were not open as we were still operating on the American timetable for meals (much, much too early for Europeans). We found a stereotypical Italian restaurant with pizza and pasta that looked reasonable and ordered two relatively cheap meals. Bread was on the table and the waiter mumbled something that apparently was I’m going to bring you water if you don’t say no right now practically before we sat down. I knew that the water wasn’t free but by the time we realized that he was going to bring it, it was too late to say no. I wasn’t sure about the bread, but my boyfriend wanted it so I let it go. When we got the bill we were ticked off that the water (one small bottle) was 4 euros, the bread was 2 and there was a mysterious 4 euro charge. The bill was handwritten with clear numbers but then scribbles that supposedly identified the charges. I had to go up and ask the waiter (who was completely ignoring us by chatting it up with the bartender) what the 4 euro charge was and apparently most if not all restaurants have cover charges, no matter what you decide to eat you have to pay an extra charge on top of that. They make you pay for deciding to eat at their restaurant! What the hell is that about? This was on top of the 15 percent service charge that was explained on the menu. Needless to say we were careful to inquire about such hidden fees wherever we ate after that. What was worse was that the food wasn’t even that tasty or hot enough to thoroughly enjoy.

The room we booked was pretty classy for a budget hotel. It was in a decent location right next to the main train station. We got breakfast every morning delivered to the door and we didn’t have to worry about any loud parties from other guests keeping us up at night. I felt really comfortable there, which was great after getting back every night soaking wet. I’ve never appreciated the comfort of a private bedroom and bathroom more in my life! My boyfriend was mystified by the bidet and thought that there were two toilets. I still don’t quite understand the usefulness of the thing and did not try to use it. It makes me wonder why Europeans find it necessary and what it says about a culture that has an entirely separate machine to clean themselves. I think perhaps America is a little too sensitive about certain bodily functions and doesn’t like to design things related to them.

Because of the weather, Rome was mostly a museum fest. We went to the Pantheon, Vatican Museum, St. Peter’s Basillica, Roman foro, Musei il Roma, Roman Colleseum, Palatine Hill, Contemporary Art Museum, Macro Future, Zoological Museum, Surrealism Museum, and a couple other small exhibits. We are both creative people and enjoy thinking about other peoples’ creative outlets, but it was a lot for only 4 ½ days! Add to that the frustration of many descriptions only available in Italian and things did get tense from time to time. It annoyed me that in order to understand what we were looking at sometimes we had to spend more money to buy an audio guide in English. I guess I have no right to be angry that something was in the language of the country that I was in, but the inconveinence seemed ridiculous when you consider the percentage of international travelers that visit the museums. I think that a city that relies so heavily on tourism like Rome does should be obligated to provide certain services in English. Yay for my ethnocentrism returning. Although I will admit that there were times I could get the gist of what was written in Italian based on my Spanish knowledge. A lot of the words have the same Latin root and are thus similar in the two languages. At times I was successful in transmitting the message more or less to my boyfriend and felt satisfied enough that I got the idea of what was going on.

It was interesting to be in Rome at Christmas time. We visited the St. Peter’s basillica the day before Christmas Eve which ended up working out nicely because we beat a lot of the crowds. We saw all the tombs of the past Popes and I was surprised at the gathering of mourners at the tomb of the last Pope. His tomb was completely roped off and it was difficult to continue through the room. I saw a couple of people beg to touch the headstone and one of the security guards partially obliged by touching the stone and then allowing the people to touch his hand. It’s difficult for me to understand the significance of the Pope as I lack pretty much any religious background, but I did try to be respectful of something that so many other people hold dear.

We did return to St. Peter’s basilica for Christmas Eve mass. In order to go inside you had to have a ticket, but anyone was allowed to stand outside and watch the service on the big screens. We expected the crowd to be enormous and were convinced that we wouldn’t even be able to get in as we arrived at about 9:30 for the 10:00 mass, but apparently the rain and the time switch kept the crowd to a minimum. Unfortunately (in my opinion) they did not show the Pope getting knocked over on the big screens. All we saw was the security guards booking it down the altar and the camera quickly zoomed out. We didn’t know what happened until we woke up Christmas morning and turned on BBC news. Pretty freaking crazy, and yet no one outside suspected anything like that because the Pope was so composed during the two hour ceremony. I’d never seen a mass like that before so I was able to stay engaged more or less. I took some pictures and had to ask my boyfriend (a lapsed Catholic) some questions about what was going on, but in the end I was happy that we went. We wanted to go to the speech he gives on Christmas Day but ended up sleeping in too late. We watched it on TV but it’s not the same obviously. Of course the weather for the speech was wonderful, while the downpour as the clock struck midnight bring in Christmas was awful. It took two days for my jeans to dry after that.

There was one main Christmas market that we found that was pretty entertaining. There were this little witch figures everywhere and small brooms decorated with fake fruit and sparkles. Apparently the witch figure factures into Italian Christmas somehow. Two people explained it to me but I still don’t really get it. What I’ll remember the most about the market were the huge donuts that were sold at the end of every row. We had to eat one and even though I only had half I was impossibly full afterwards. Sugar overload! Combine that with all the pizza and gelato we had and I pretty much had to roll myself out the door and to the airport when it was all over.

Christmas Day started out fine as we slept in and watched the news. Around 2pm we went over to our hotel’s sister hotel where we were told we could use the internet for free during our stay. We had gone the day before to check our email quickly and had no problem. We both wanted to say a quick hello to our families for the holiday. We went over to the hotel, climbed up all the stairs and entered the room only to find the hotel staff having a little party and they told us that we couldn’t use the internet because it was a holiday. They said it was not working all day but you could plainly see that the computers were functioning. We were really ticked off, and reluctantly started our search for a connection. I had seen that there was free wi-fi internet in the main train station across the street so we tried to go there first. After much frustration and confusing we finally realized that we couldn’t connect to the internet because you needed an Italian cellphone number. So then we walked around in search of a place where you can pay to go on the internet. Finally we found one and they required a scan of your passport. My boyfriend was weary of this, but I offered up mine. So after wasting a couple of hours we finally were able to talk to our families through Skype. It was nice to say hello, but it also felt really weird to be away for Christmas. It just didn’t feel like a holiday without any special celebration. It was nice to be with my boyfriend and I am very happy that I wasn’t traveling alone at that point.

We did go somewhere relatively nice for dinner and I got the eggplant parmesean that I had been craving. We walked around for awhile looking at all the different offerings and found the Rome Hard Rock Café which was amusing. There was no way we were eating there because the food is just like what we can get in America and it is wicked expensive. Nevertheless, it was fun to walk through the restaurant and look at the random music related memorbilia.

We found a pastry shop/gelateria and I tried what was called a traditional sicllian cake. It was green with something like gingerbread or cinnamon and frosting inside. I liked it a lot, but felt silly justifying eating yet another sweet simply because the menu called it traditional. Oh the joys of being a tourist. They know just how to manipulate your desires.

The one thing I was really happy about was that there were so many shops and places to eat that were open on Christmas Day. I was so worried that the entire city would shut down after about mid-day on Christmas Eve, but it was still buzzing throughout the holiday so we didn’t feel too isolated. I have some great pics and video of Rome and once I am somewhere in which I can reflect on it I know I will have more positive things to say. I am so glad that I had the opportunity to go and will remember it forever! It was such a random place to go. I’ve never really wanted to go to Rome before, but it just seemed like a good place for Christmas.

The five days kind of flew by. We kept ourselves busy as Christmas Day was the only day we slept in. Despite the rain we soldiered on and never really got lost because the city itself isn’t that big and the metro is ridiculously simple (only two lines that cross in the middle- the station right by our hotel). The only time we did get lost was trying to find the last museum on our trip the very last night. For some crazy reason the museum was open until midnight so we put it at the end of our list of things to do and didn’t get out there until after 10pm. The location was off the map we had and suddenly we were in completely sketchy territory. However we found someone who spoke English and he gave us directions. They were difficult to follow, but in the end we found the museum and enjoyed it a lot. There was an exhibit about the 20^th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. It was interesting to see how other countries represent history, but I was pretty frustrated that the texts were only in Italian. It just makes me realize how much history I don’t know. In history classes in high school you never really make it all the way to the present and the cold war just sort of gets glazed over. There is so much about this world that I do not know as much as I should or at all. That’s what I’ve learned from traveling. Whenever I’m bored I should just start doing research about something curious I’ve seen and try to make myself a more globally informed person.

It was pretty late by the time we got back to the hotel after the museum due to a little confusion and trouble finding the metro station in the pouring rain. Maps really shouldn’t show the metro stop symbol in the middle of a park if the stop is actually two blocks over. We slept for maybe 3 hours and then it was off to the airport for Madrid. Our flight was really early so we had to catch the first train out of Rome at 5:52 am. We made it to the station at 5:45 and ran with all of our stuff to the second to last platform, making it into the last car with about a minute to spare. They recommend getting to the airport two hours before your flight when you are going within the European Union but I’m always paranoid about something going wrong and missing the plane. But we were again pretty fortunate with no travel delays or big airline snafus. Despite the incident with the guy trying to blow up the plane from Amsterdam to Detroit on Christmas Day (only two days before our flight) there really wasn’t much security. No matter how many airports I go to in Europe I’m still amazed at how laid back security is. What a shock it will be when I get back home…

We landed in Madrid on time and easily figured out the Metro in order to get to the center of the city, Puerta del Sol, where our hostel and all the New Year’s parties were…

Merry Christmas from Rome...

2009-12-25T07:14:00.001-08:00

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

2009-12-19T02:21:00.000-08:00

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...

2009-12-17T18:15:00.000-08:00

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...

2009-12-15T05:39:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-13T05:56:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-10T09:21:00.000-08:00

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

2009-12-05T11:07:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-30T13:06:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-22T09:31:00.001-08:00

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)

2009-11-20T11:45:00.000-08:00

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!

2009-11-16T08:00:00.001-08:00

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

2009-11-08T12:24:00.000-08:00

(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.

2009-11-08T11:36:00.000-08:00

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

2009-11-05T11:55:00.000-08:00

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...

a weekend of treats...

2009-10-31T11:40:00.000-07:00

(author's note: this entry is full of hyperlinks to photos that I believe are a helpful addition to my text, they are taken from google images but they are pretty much identical to the snapshots that i took)

Happy Halloween!

I never thought I cared much about this holiday until now, when there really isn't any way to celebrate it. All I've wanted for the past few days is some of those tiny pumpkin candies, they are like candy corn- equally bad for you- but I love them so much! I'm sure they will be heavily discounted starting tomorrow, so if anyone had the heart to send me a package...

Instead of Halloween, there is All Saint's Day (which is actually tomorrow). I know that it exists in the U.S., but it's different here. People have parties and eat traditional yummy treats. The older generation also goes to the cemeteries and cleans the crypts of their family members. Usually there is a lot of celebration, but it won't be the same this year because the holiday is on a Sunday, which is the day of lets-not-do-anything-and-just-enjoy-regular-quiet-life day here in Spain.

Nevertheless, I did find panellets in the supermarket yesterday and was pleasantly surprised at their quality. They are these little round pastry balls of wonder. The traditional ones are sticky balls of dough covered with roasted and sugary pine nuts (they are the ones in the first and last column in the pic). I've seen all the different kinds in the pastry shops here, but they were way too expensive. But of course I bought the smallest package at the supermarket, a dozen, and ate them all last night. I just couldn't stop! Castañas (roasted chestnuts) and boniatos (sweet potato) are also popular for this holiday. I haven't had a chance yet to try these, but I do know of a street vendor that is selling them both not too far from where I live. You can't really get the sweet potato in the supermarket because you want it to be all prepared and hot and ready for munching...

Today I went to the Museum of Chocolate and I was absolutely astounded. The history of chocolate wasn't all that interesting, but they had a lot of 3D sculptures that were made entirely out of chocolate. I've seen things like that on tv but in person they are absolutely breathtaking. For example, there was a chocolate sculpture of Arc de Triomf, a famous arch near one of my favorite parks in Barcelona. There were little kids running around making a lot of noise and hitting into things. They do birthday parties at the museum as there is a large kitchen attached to the building where for a hefty price you can pay for a lesson in how to make your own 3D chocolate creations. The pastry school is also attached to the museum, where competitions for 3D chocolate designs are held. What I can't figure out is how the chocolate doesn't melt at some point! I got a free chocolate bar with my ticket and ended up buying one truffle before I left. It was gingerbread, so I could justify the purchase as a new experience.

I also had to go to the supermarket today for bread and milk (how cliché) and was captivated by the many flavors of a traditional Christmas dessert called turrón. I had to buy the white chocolate one with puffed rice (like a crunch bar). The wikipedia entry for turrón isn't that helpful, but at least it gave me an idea of what I had purchased. I ate a portion of the bar after lunch today and was in a wonderful mood for a few hours afterwards. It was just so creamy and tasty! I'm curious to see what the consistency is across the different flavors. There is a fruit version that I think I should try next. I can't figure out how both kinds can be sold under the same name, but maybe when I taste it it will make sense.

So yes, Christmas desserts are now available in the stores. Christmas lights have also started appearing on certain streets and buildings in the city. I am excited to see how the city transforms for the holiday. My intercambio partner told me that the lights and displays on Las Ramblas are absolutely captivating. Right now my plan is to be in Rome for Christmas, but I figure I will be in Barcelona for a little more than half of December so I will be able to see a lot of the preparation. Apparently there are a lot of Christmas themed markets so I know I will enjoy that! I'm not a big holiday person, but learning about how the holidays are celebrated and conceptualized in other parts of the world appeals to me greatly. I haven't finalized my travel plans for after the program ends (I am free from December 18th until my flight back to Boston on January 15th.) As it stands now, I will be in Paris, Rome, Madrid and London- in that order. Flights are still reasonably cheap (averages out to about $90 per flight) and there seems to be space in various hostels. However, I am anxious to have a plan in place.

I've been steadily accomplishing many of the things on my Things to Do in Barcelona list. Yesterday I went with a few girls from my program to two of the houses that Gaudí designed. Palau Güell was under construction so we didn't get to see that much- but entrance was free. I was upset that we couldn't see the upstairs or the roof. I've seen pictures of the detail on the roof and was looking forward to seeing them up close. However, it was interesting to see that even in the basement where the servants lived there was impressive and detailed architecture to behold. It boggles my mind that a building like that can be on the same street as a run down pizzeria and flea bag motel...

La Pedera made up for the lack of things to see at Palau Güell. The roof looked like a desert with majestic sand sculptures and rolling hills. Inside, there was a museum of models of all of Gaudí's major designs. I was surprised to learn that he also designed some furniture! We joked that this chair would be perfect for married couples because you could sit next to each and not have to look your partner in the eye. Finally, we toured the apartment that Gaudí lived in. I'm not sure how much was preserved and how much was a recreation of what things probably looked like, but I loved seeing all of the old fashioned decor. It is unfathomable how Gaudí saw the world, how we was able to manipulate it to fulfill his vision. There is one more of his houses that I would like to see, but the line is always all the way around the corner and it's pretty expensive. It's probably worth a separate trip all by itself.

Tomorrow I will probably end up at one museum or another because on the first Sunday of the month nearly all of the museums have free admission. Part of me thinks I should go back to the museum that I went to with my history class because it will probably help me study for the midterm that's on Thursday, but part of me wants to go to the Catalunya art museum because it is one of the most expensive museums. I will probably decide where I'm going based on what other people are doing. I think there are groups going to each. All I know is that I have to get out of the house at some point tomorrow because my brain is hurting from studying. Except for the supermarket and my excursion to the chocolate museum, which was only about two hours total, I was inside all day taking care of business- studying, cleaning and doing laundry. Again, I need to find a balance between schoolwork and experiencing life in Barcelona. It angers me how much better things would be if I didn't have to worry about tests. Instead, I have to play this juggling game.

Speaking of which, I should get back to studying. Promised myself I would do one chapter of history tonight. I also have to eat and read more of the story that an old writing friend sent me. I'm hoping that his novel will inspire me to keep writing here.

nikki

una cosa pequeña, sin embargo...

2009-10-27T12:46:00.001-07:00

I had to go food shopping after class this morning. I pretty much have to go every three days or so because my fridge cubby is very small and just can't hold more than a few days' worth of food. It's hard to get used to since for the previous four months in Boston I had a full fridge and freezer just for my food. Obviously I didn't need all of that space, but it was nice to have it.

The first section in the supermarket is produce, like right when you walk down the stairs the crates of apples and pears and plums stare you in the face. They have a little scale where you weigh your selection and then press a button that corresponds to which fruit or vegetable you have selected. A label prints out with the price and the barcode that the cashier needs to scan. It saves time at the checkout, but of course relies on customers selecting the correct corresponding fruit or vegetable to what they have actually chosen to buy.

The names of the fruits and vegetables are listed in Spanish as well as Catalan, so I've never had a problem. (Also, there are pictures. Some of the pictures aren't clear, but they do exist so even an illiterate person could have a good chance at selecting the correct button.)

There was a worker standing next to the scale handing out free samples of some kind of tangerine. I can't stand anything that resembles an orange so I was ready to politely turn her offer down when it was my turn to weight my items, but instead of offering me a sample she snatched the bag of plums out of my hand and pressed the button for me. I tried to turn a little away from her so I could put the bag of apples on the scale myself, but she still reached over and pressed the button for me. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't just push her hand away. So I rolled my eyes as she pushed the button for my pears. I put the fruit in my basket and started to walk away when I heard her ask the next person in line if he would like to try the fruit. I turned around and watched as she casually smiled and the man weighed and selected the buttons by himself. I watched as three more people received the same offer and did the same thing.

Why was I not offered a sample? Why did she press the buttons for me? Why did she look down on me as a nuisance, no trace of the smile she gave all of the other customers?

You can say that I am looking too much into this, but I really think she judged me on my appearance and assumed that I could not complete the task by myself and that I wouldn't understand if she offered the sample. I know that is an assumption on my part, but that's what it felt like. I felt like someone made a judgment on my abilities based on my appearance. I was absolutely shocked. Logically it makes sense that it happened, I do look like a foreigner and I can understand how someone in the store for the first time might be a little slow to catch on to the scale, but it still hurts that I was denied the same treatment as everyone else.

Do you think I am overreacting? How would you feel in the same situation? I'm pretty sure that anyone can leave comments now, so I want to know what you think!

nikki

Penedés y Montserrat

2009-10-25T13:02:00.001-07:00

Yesterday I climbed to the top of a mountain. That's all you really need to know.

First we went to Penedés and got a tour of a winery. I felt bad for the tour guy because no one was really listening. He was speaking in Spanish about a rather complicated process that no one really cared about. Obviously because it was a Saturday morning a bunch of the kids from my program were tired and/or hungover and thus had even less incentive to pay attention. We went down several flights of stairs into the cellar and saw where they keep millions and millions of bottles of wine. I really can't explain what it looked like. Try to imagine an enormous room with concrete walls, ceiling and floor. When I say enormous, I mean enormous. I could not see where the room ended. We got on a little tram and flew by millions and millions of bottles in different caves that were named for where the bottles were going, places as far away as Tokyo and as close as Barcelona. The wine has to be in the cellar for a minimum of nine months before they will sell it, but usually they are down there for years and years and years. So most of the bottles were covered in thick dust (hence the picture above) and some were barely recognizable. It would be so easy to get lost down there forever. I found it interesting in how complicated the process is just to make a drink. It is difficult for me to understand the significance of wine, why it is so important and why people would dedicate their lives to its production.

At the end everyone was allowed to have two glasses of cava (champagne), one was white and one was pink (rose?). I didn't partake. I don't drink alcohol under any circumstances. I'll admit I was tempted to just have a taste, that maybe if I knew what it was like I would somehow understand its significance. But I knew I couldn't do it. I am committed to my decision and nothing is worth breaking that. It was awkward to be the only one without a glass in my hand when we took the group picture, but I wouldn't have had it any other way. People didn't seem that impressed with it anyway. It annoys me a bit because CIEE has been complaining that they are in financial crisis and yet they paid for 35 students to drink alcohol...

I'm not sure how CIEE thought two glasses of champagne would be a great lead into going to a mountain. The schedule gave us 2 1/2 hours at Montserrat, which in addition to a breathtaking mountain also has two museums and a monastery. We were able to stay longer if we wanted to, but we had to sign up before hand and were responsible for our own transportation back to Barcelona. I figured that a lot of people would take advantage of the opportunity to explore this fantastic place, but it turned out that only 7 of us stayed. We decided to do the most strenuous hike all the way up the mountain to the highest point. It took us about three hours in total with some short photo ops and a nice break at the top. As Becky kept saying, the top is only half way! So once we gather our thoughts and appreciated our accomplishment we had to trek all the way back down. Most of the way down was a series of very narrow and steep steps. I have misaligned knee caps so going down hills and stairs at such an angle is very hard on them. I am still in a little bit of pain in my knees, and my calves aren't happy with me either, but it was definitely worth it. I am so happy that I did it. I feel proud that I took advantage of the opportunity and did all that I could to appreciate where I was. No regrets.

Today I went to the Picasso Museum, it's only a 15 minute walk from the residencia. It was 6 euros for students so I could definitely justify it. I spent about two hours ogling paintings, engravings, sketches and pottery made by Picasso. How many people can say that they have made enough art to fill an entire museum (18 rooms)? I had no idea that starting when he was 15 he was winning prizes for his art and completing masterpieces. I didn't know that he painted other things besides crazy cubism figures and blue hued portraits. It was an amazing experience to see the evolution of his work from when he was a child until his death.

What will stick with me the most is that they said his blue period was inspired by literature he was exposed to in which sincerity was inseparable from pain and art sprang from sadness and suffering. He was very interested in the world of outcasts and the combination of blue and green hues was seen as akin to the loneliness of the sea. As a writer, I can relate to the art = pain point of view. Seeing the myriad of subjects, styles and mediums he worked with really inspired me to keep writing, that it is possible to use my talent in ways I've never imagined before. He also never shied away from uncomfortable or shocking topics, depicting prostitutes and death in several series of paintings and etchings. I was also fascinated by the series of paintings he did from the point of view of someone outside looking into a window, as if the painter was spying on his subjects and capturing a scene he was not meant to see. I feel like artists of any kind often think that they are uncovering things with their work that deserve to be seen but aren't always put out in the open willingly.

The rest of the day I spent reading from books I took out of the library for my communications and history classes. I am trying to get a general sense of journalism (is that possible?) in order to understand the more advanced topics and I want to gather as much background info about the history of Barcelona as I can to try to decode the wordy and long lectures. As far as this weekend goes, I think I did a great job of balancing schoolwork and enjoying being in the city/in Spain. I'm fairly confident that I can do that again this weekend (three days!) even with having to study for midterms for the first week of November.

I can't believe it's the end of October. I wore shorts today! Also, we fell out of daylights savings time. I had no idea it was happening, so when I woke up this morning I thought something was wrong with my computer. But sure enough, the time change was confirmed when I turned on the tv (of course that's the ultimate source of truth). So maybe the shift in daylight will help with my conception of it really being Fall.

nikki

historia y aprendizaje

2009-10-22T14:28:00.000-07:00

My Barcelona history class went to the Museum of History of Catalunya today. I was not in the best of moods upon arrival, as today was one of the very few days of awful weather here. Today's high was only in the 50s and right when I had to leave the apartment it started monsoon-ing: crazy winds and wicked downpour. My umbrella broke and my jeans were soaked up past my knees. This was just from walking to the metro stop about 5 minutes away. (If you know anything about me, you'll realize how bad the weather was by the fact that I decided to take the metro when it was only two stops.)

I did not have high hopes for this museum. Usually I'm very overwhelmed in museums as there is far too much to look at and read than one can really dedicate their attention to. Even when I've been on guided tours (which doesn't happen often because I'm too cheap to pay for them) I don't feel like I'm experiencing anything more than what a few wikipedia searches would yield me.

It took forever for all of us to assemble at the museum. Everyone was complaining about the rain like they'd never gotten wet outside before. People, including me, have just gotten used to the great weather here that it's a shock when it is a less than pleasant experience to be outside.

We were split into two groups, one would get the tour in Spanish and the other in English. We were allowed to choose which group we wanted and I immediately ran to the Spanish group. There were a few more kids who wanted the tour in Spanish than wanted the tour in English and some people had to volunteer to switch. I sort of hid behind this very tall guy in order to escape the possibility of being asked to switch. I am in Spain. I am taking my classes in Spanish. Why the hell would I take the tour in English? I feel as though I need to take advantage of every opportunity I have to be exposed to the language. There was no doubt in my mind which tour I was going to take. I think it's ridiculous that people were given the option to take the tour in English. I really think it shows who is here to learn and who is here to just get by. Sure, I want to have fun here and travel and enjoy a level of freedom that I won't have when I get back to the states (and have to enter the job market!) but I can have fun and such in the U.S. I can hear, speak, read and write English wherever I go in the U.S. But only in Spain can I have someone from Catalunya show and tell me things about the history of Catalunya. I can't learn this information in the U.S. Listening to the information in Spanish made it a double accomplishment. I understood about 90% of what the guide was saying and he wasn't speaking as slow as the teachers do here.

I feel like I learned more in the hour of the tour than I have in the three weeks of my history class thus far. His short examples and the physical props in the museum made a lot of the information in my head fall into place. I started making connections between time periods and forming links between faces, names, dates, and actions of importance. I need to go back to the museum and read everything. I want to spend hours there taking notes and gathering as much information as I can. I want to be truly informed about where I am living. Barcelona was founded around 10 A.D. That's 2000 years of history this city has to offer. I can stand in Plaza Sant Jaume (where the castellers assembled during La Merce) and know that at that very spot 2000 years ago people made the center of their city. The Greeks and Romans and Germanic tribes somehow become real entities when you are surrounded by physical evidence of their existence and actions. These ancient people are no longer abstractions in my head. They were real people that lived in real places. Europe is no longer a mere section of a map for me. I have only been in Spain thus far, but that has been enough to open my eyes to the reality of this part of the world, the richness of the history and the longevity of identity.

I keep having to remind myself that while my Spanish is VERY far from perfect, I do have skills in the language. Everyone can't understand spoken Spanish, no matter how slow the person speaks or how much they enunciate. Every time something is communicated successfully to me or I communicate something successfully to someone else in Spanish it is an accomplishment. As frustrating as it can be, I need to welcome more Spanish into my life here and only use English when necessary- for example writing this blog. I wish that someone from Boston or NY that I am close to could at least read Spanish. After a block of classes, my head is swimming with thoughts in Spanish (no matter how grammatically incorrect) and I hate when they disappear because I start doing something in English.

I have stopped using subtitles when I watch t.v. here and I am doing some research on live theatre that I can get cheap tickets to. I saw a Spanish movie called Gordos (translation: fat people) last night with a small group of kids from CIEE. It was very difficult to understand because it was a dialogue driven movie, no bad ass action sequences or intense murderous rampages that can be understood by speakers of any language. However, I was able to stick with it for two hours and could follow the general plot line. Sure, it was annoying when the rest of the audience laughed and I didn't know what they were responding to, but ultimately it was an uplifting experience. When I first got here, I thought there was no way that I could watch an entire movie in Spanish without any subtitles and not go insane with boredom or frustration. But now I see movies and television (and soon theatre) as entertaining learning exercises. Even if I only understand 10% of what is going on, that's 10% more practice listening than I had before. I only benefit from the experience. This is so much different than the listening I do in my classes, in which misunderstandings can have negative consequences. Without that pressure to interpret correctly I am actually able to process more information because I am not afraid to make mistakes. I am more apt to guess at a meaning than ignore it altogether- and that is an approach that I feel yields better results.

My classes are progressing well. I am trying to accept that I am always going to be the girl that asks a ton of questions. I am pushing myself to speak up when a topic is unclear-whether it's because of a language difficulty or because it's a concept that I'm not familiar with. It is difficult to have those two types of confusion. In my communications class we are going over things that are pretty basic, but it's all new information to me. I asked a lot of questions in the last class because of the material. I understood the words (i.e. the Spanish) perfectly, but wasn't clear on the relationship between a few key points in the lecture. At one point when I was struggling to ask my question in Spanish the professor told me to just ask it in English. I refused to do so. It took an extra 20 seconds or so, but I was able to find a way to express my doubt in Spanish in a way that the professor could understand and then address my concern. I actually had brought up an important concept that he had forgotten to mention. Could I have gotten to the point faster if I had used English? Of course, but that wouldn't have helped me in the long run- and I'm the one that matters here.

I am very hopeful that the excursion to Penedés and Montserrat on Saturday will be just what I need to re-energize and focus me on the positive aspects of this experience. The first thing out of the guide's mouth at the museum today was that we had to find the time to see Montserrat. I cannot wait to be overwhelmed by the magnificent views and peaceful atmosphere.

Oh, in case you were worried, it's supposed to be in the 70s and sunny for at least another week, starting tomorrow :)

nikki

minuses... and pluses!

2009-10-19T11:37:00.000-07:00

Back to school today after a three day weekend. I should've known it would be a little rough. I'll start out with the minuses so I can end with the pluses and keep my mind focused on the good things.

I went to campus early this morning so I could go to the library and check out some books from the recommended but not required reading lists for my classes. I know what you are thinking, yes I am a nerd- but it's a little different here since there is little to no required reading. I feel like I need to at least skim some of the noted sources for further information in order to have a general understanding of these foreign (in geography and often in subject matter) topics.

Three out of the four books I wanted are only available in one of the other campuses of the university. I can get there by metro, but I didn't have time to go this morning before class. The fourth book was- wait for it... wait for it...

ONLY AVAILABLE IN CATALAN!

Okay, I know you are all sick of me complaining about Catalan. Slowly I am realizing how important the language is to the culture here, and I can accept that it has a place in society and such- but I'd like to see someone explain how I'm not entitled to a little anger at the fact that a book recommended by a professor is only available in a language I don't understand. I asked the professor about it and he said he wasn't aware of the language issue. If I could've phrased it politely (which is hard to do in English when you're ticked off... much less in a foreign language of which you haven't really grasped the concept of tone and inflection) I would have suggested that he take the book off the recommended reading list for his future classes of non-Spanish students.

Second minus- since I was on campus early, I had to grab some food before my first class at 1. I brought an apple and a sandwich because a.) it's healthier and b.) I can convince myself that I'm saving money that way. I wasn't going to buy anything, but I realized that I needed some coins in order to purchase a card to copy and scan documents on one of the machines. The copiers/scanners all in one machines are located at various points in the hallways on campus. Next to one of them is a little box, you put in money and it gives you a card. Somehow you use this card to copy and scan. However, you can only put money on the card in increments of 2 euros and the box only accepts coins. I thought the easiest way to rectify this situation would be to buy something in the cafeteria with my 5 euro bill and use the change to buy the card. All I wanted was a Fanta límon, which tastes like half lemonade and half sprite. Before coming here I hadn't drank soda or juice for a very long time, but for some reason I love this drink. I don't have it that often (I'm pretty much only drinking tap water here- not sure that's such a good practice) but when I'm in the mood I have no qualms about quenching that thirst. There are fridges in the back of the cafeteria that have all types of sodas and juices in them for all the world to see. (They are like the ones you see in 7-eleven type stores, but free standing.) I walked back there, grabbed the soda and went to the cash register to pay. There are two cash registers, one in the back section where food is set up buffet style (two stations similar to the dining hall at NU) and one in the front at the counter where people order drinks and snacks. Since the fridges are in the back part, I went to that cash register. The woman snatched the drink out of my hand and put it on the other side of the cash register-out of my reach. She barked at me- from what I could gather I was only allowed to pay for food at that cash register and not drinks because technically that section wasn't open yet. I don't understand what the hell is the difference between me buying a soda and the girl in front of me buying a salad. I wasn't even allowed to bring the drink to the other register. I could've went to the counter and ordered a soda from there, but by that point the line was really long and I really didn't want it anymore. I was frustrated that there was some hidden rule that I didn't understand. So in the end, I had no soda and no change to buy the copy/scan card. I'll have to wait until tomorrow after I break my 5 when I buy a much needed loaf of bread...

Now on to the pluses!

The only good thing to come out of the library experience was that I was able to confront one of my fears- needing to ask for assistance in Spanish. I wanted to put a reserve on one of the books that was already checked out, but needed to enter my student number. I tried the number that is on my ID card, but it didn't work. I went to the information desk and explained the situation the best that I could. At first she thought I was talking about the username that I need to log on to the intranet, and then she thought I was talking about the id number I need to check out books. I feel like if this had happened when I first got here I would've just walked away- but I pushed myself and kept trying to be understood. I was very happy there was no line behind me. It was awkward, but I stood at the desk for a little while trying to collect my thoughts and come up with a way to say "request to put the book on hold." I ended up saying something that's the equivalent of "I want to ask for a book that I can not have" but she finally understood. Apparently there is a secret ID number that you need for such an action that is not given to you, even though it's your information! I copied down the number from her computer screen (all she had to do was pull up my record- a record I think I'm entitled to have access to thank you very much) and was able to request a hold and view my patron record- details such as what books I have checked out and when they are due. It might seem like nothing, but the fact that I didn't get upset or overcome with frustration is a big deal to me. I was grateful that she didn't attempt to correct my Spanish or come back at me with English. I need more situations like that to happen.

But the big plus of the day is that I finally learned interesting facts about Spain that I never would have learned in a class in the U.S.! Finally I can say that there has been a gain from the classes I'm taking. I knew eventually this day would come, but it was rough getting here. When I think that my classes are too intense or difficult, I just keep reminding myself that the practice with Spanish and the fact that the subject matter isn't something I can get in the U.S. makes it worth it. I really regret not taking classes about New Zealand while I was studying there. At that point in my academic career I needed to take classes that fulfilled major and gen ed requirements. But I don't need the classes here to count for anything related to my degree. It's so nice to not worry about whether a class will translate into a required course. To the best of my knowledge, all of my classes here will go back as electives because the Spanish subject matter just doesn't have equivalents in NU's course system. I am grateful for the opportunity to learn things about this country from professors who have lived here all of their lives. I feel like my classes are where I have the opportunity to experience some of the culture here in lieu of interacting with natives on a daily basis.

In my literature and film class we talked about rivalries between sports teams in the U.S. At first I had no idea how this related to anything, but when we started talking about how some rivalries in sports reflect rivalries between or within cities, it started to make a little more sense. I did my best to explain the rivalry between Boston University and Northeastern University. Initially it came up because I thought of the beanpot (college hockey tournament) and how intense the rivalry was between the two teams. But when I thought about it further I realized that the conflict goes so much deeper than that. You can see it when you go to games and see people holding signs that say U Mass Kenmore and U Mass Roxbury- which is the traded insult that BU and NU are "as bad as" state schools. Also, at the beanpot there were flyers on all of the seats in the NU section that showed the only question on the NU admissions application form as 2 + 2 = ? (I personally thought that was a childish low blow, but I'm biased.) The last example I can think of is how at one game BU fans started changing "Five year school" as an insult to NU, a reference to our co-op program which if you do the full three cycles you end up taking five years to graduate. NU fans retaliated with "we have jobs" which is a clear defense of what outsiders might see as a strange or even detrimental practice. BU fans replied "flipping burgers" which can be seen as complete ignorance or commentary that even though NU students sometimes complete co-ops they still have just as much trouble finding worthwhile employment after graduation- BU maintaining that graduating from their school looks better on a resume. The point is that BU and NU clash because we are in competition on several levels. NU has classically been the underdog even though we have improved tremendously and continue to experience new and better successes every year. Hating BU is almost seen as being of more school spirit than loving NU! It's crazy I know.

And this relates to Barcelona or Spain how? Well, the professor was clever in having us think of rivalries that we were familiar with and how without even thinking about it, they revealed attitudes of the fans about their communities. In Spain, there has always been a huge rivalry between Barca and Real Madrid, two soccer teams that represent Barcelona and Madrid respectively. To the outsider, it might seem that this rivalry is simply due to each team being of very good quality and thus in constant competition- but it goes deeper than that, much deeper. These teams are so old that their history is inexplicably intertwined with the history of the two cities. For example, under the dictator Franco, Madrid was the city of allegiance with the government. Madrid was the city of national pride and unity. Barcelona was the city of resistance. Madrid was the oppressor and Barcelona was the oppressed. Under the dictator, almost every form of expression of Catalan culture was banned- except for the Barca soccer team. The citizens of Barcelona for the most part only had their soccer team that they could claim as their own. Obviously things have changed and there are tons of other outlets for Catalan pride and even Catalan independence movements- but that tradition lives on. The Barca team is more than a sports team, it's the one constant that Catalunya has been able to look to as representing themselves independent of Spain. Doesn't that seem like such a better way to learn about Madrid and Barcelona than sit through a two hour history lecture? I hope that this class continues to enlighten me in such entertaining ways.

My other class today was my communications class- a sort of mixture between journalism and sociology (I think...). The lecture was a little dry, most of it was based on graphs showing data (i.e. no people behind the numbers) but I learned a lot that surprised me. Only 4% of Spanish people say that they go to the movies at least once a month. I know that the theatre can be expensive, but only 4%! Coincidentally I read an article today about how two theatres were going out of business in nearby Tarragona and now the closest movie theatre would be 13 miles away. Apparently that is significant, but the theatres are closing out of financial necessity- people just aren't going. I don't know too much about the statistics of movie goers in the U.S., but I know that the percentage that go to the theatre at least once a month must be a hell of a lot higher than 4%. Television is just as popular here as in the U.S., but the difference in attitude towards movie theatres intrigues me greatly. I'm going to ask my intercambio her opinion about this. Maybe she'll have something to say because she is from Tarragona.

However, more shockingly I learned that only 32% of Spanish people said that they have internet in their homes. Again, don't know the statistics for the U.S.- but it has to be higher than that. The professor explained that because there is only one company that controls the phone and internet capabilities the rates are very expensive. In addition, most people have modems because it is too difficult in many places to run the cables under the ridiculously old streets and into the homes. I can't imagine not having internet available on a day to day basis. It's awful, but that's how my life has progressed. Even in the U.S. when I have my cell phone to stay in contact with people, I still feel like I need to go online everyday. The first thing I do when I get up in the morning is check my email. What does the lack of reliance on the internet signify for Spanish culture? It really isn't a small difference when you start to think about how this technology has infiltrated our lives. I'm going to have to think about this more.

For now I have to study a little bit for the debate I have in my Spanish class tomorrow. It would be so easy if I could just speak in English! I'm trying to see it as an opportunity to practice and get more familiar with speaking Spanish with a purpose and not as a graded activity...

nikki

Religious experiences and hot chocolate mistakes

2009-10-18T09:52:00.000-07:00

At this exact moment I am happy. The reason is quite simple: I am eating a banana. Yeah, I finally broke down and bought a big bunch of bananas (five) at the market yesterday. The other four aren't quite ripe yet, but I am determined to eat them all before they go bad. Oh man, this is so delicious. Potassium I have missed you so!

Yesterday I went to La Sagrada Familia. From wikipedia (the most trustworthy of sources obviously):

Sagrada Família, is a massive, privately-funded Roman Catholic church that has been under construction in Barcelona, Catalonia, Spain since 1882 and is not expected to be complete until at least 2026. Considered the master-work of renowned Catalan architect Antoni Gaudí (1852–1926), the project's vast scale and idiosyncratic design have made it one of Barcelona's (and Spain's) top tourist attractions for many years.

Therefore, I had to see it. The outside was beautiful, I have an entire album on facebook of photos (91 in all), but I was kind of annoyed that I spent 9 euros (yay for student discounts) to go inside. It really wasn't that impressive after seeing the cathedral in Sevilla and La Mezquita in Córdoba. When they say that it is under construction, they really mean that it is a work in progress. There were construction beams, bags of plaster, and splintered wood everywhere. I even saw the welding going on with amber sparks flying everywhere. I guess in a way, seeing the construction of a cathedral is a unique experience. However, I was expecting to be in awe of the structure- like I've been with every other architectural accomplishment I've seen thus far. Instead, I was bored- there was no overall effect. It was like seeing a bare bones outline of a novel. You intuitively know that someday there will be a magnificent product, but you don't know what it will look like or how long it will take to get there. Also, I have always been bothered when other people step in to finish the creative work of another after that original creator has died. People talk of the completion of La Sagrada Familia as the realization of Gaudí's vision- but it's not. The construction is made up of approximations from sketches and models that Gaudí and his cohorts left behind. I'm sure that's a great start, but in my mind it's like saying that a novel written by person A is really the work of person B that wrote the beginning of a few chapters with some instructions for possible character archs. Let this serve as notice that if I die while I'm in the middle of writing something no one had better step in and try to approximate an organic path to a possible ending- and then claim that the finished product is really mine. I know that the building must be finished, I just wish that people would stop using Gaudí's name just to bring legitimacy to the work. Who knew I was such an architecture snob? Who am I to pass judgment on any of this? It's not like I have a clue what really goes into designing and constructing a building of any size. In the end, I am frustrated with not being able to appreciate a work in progress. I've always been a results oriented type of person...

Yesterday I also went to what once was the Jewish neighborhood of Barcelona. I expected to see more remnants of the ancient city, but really all I found were plaques that stated what used to be there. I had difficult finding the synagogue- I'm about 90 percent sure that the building that was under construction (and closed completely- unlike La Sagrada Familia) was the synagogue. I wanted to see it, thought viewing the oldest synagogue in Europe and La Sagrada Familia all in one day would somehow make me a holier person (just kidding). I ended up wandering around a new section of the city for about 2 1/2 hours, taking some random pictures and familiarizing myself with the maze of dead end and twisty turvy streets.

CIEE sent us a list of things To Do in Barcelona, compiled from suggestions from National Geographic as well as personal suggestions from CIEE staff. One of the items on the list was to have a chocolate at a specific restaurant. The weather has cooled a bit here, only a high of 66 today, so I decided a hot chocolate would be delightful. (I know it's 20 - 25 degrees cooler in Boston and New York, but last weekend it was almost 90, so 65 feels cold.) I got to the restaurant and waited patiently in the line. The place was packed, apparently it is always so. Since I was only one person I got to skip ahead of a lot of the bigger parties. I sat down and ordered a small chocolate. When it came, it was the chocolate that they serve with churros con chocolate- which is really not edible by itself. It tastes burnt to me, but it's probably just because it's more bitter than the sweet chocolate we are used to in the U.S. When the waiter came around again I ordered some churros to be able to consume the chocolate. I was annoyed that there weren't any menus. I looked around the packed restaurant and did not see a single menu, so I figured it was pointless to ask for one. This was also the first place that I've felt rushed in here. Usually everyone takes their time to eat and drink- it's the norm for two or three people to each order a coffee at a cafe and then sit around for hours- but in this place people were eating and drinking and leaving rather quickly by comparison. I found the only place in Barcelona where people are considerate of others waiting in line! I finished my churros con chocolate being pretty disappointed. Obviously the quality was way better than the churros con chocolate that I had from the street vendor in Sevilla, but I still did not get the massive appeal of the treat. As I started to walk toward the front door I saw a piece of paper by the counter that had a list of different hot chocolates on it. I screamed internally while realizing that I could've ordered an actual hot chocolate- they even had a mint one! It made me think back to last Thursday when I got a hot chocolate from the automatic coffee machine on campus (which quite surprisingly produces amazing products). I had to select the xocolata amb llet (Catalan for chocolate with milk). Obviously I had just ordered chocolate, which was not really for drinking. I'll have to go back sometime soon, preferably with someone else, so I can try a drinking chocolate and forget that this little mishap ever happened. This is what occurs when you are an outsider in a local's restaurant...

Today I saw REC 2 in the movie theatre. It's the horror/zombie sequel to REC, which I saw before coming here and absolutely loved. I figured I could justify the trip by equating it to an educational experience- I'd have to watch an entire movie with audio in Spanish and without any subtitles. I definitely did not understand a lot of what was being said, but I did feel good about being able to follow the general plot line. I enjoyed the movie a lot because I love zombies and other crazy and scary creatures. I felt bad though because the person I brought with me did not have a great experience. She slept through a lot of the movie because the hand held camera point of view made her dizzy and such. I was also disappointed because I'd been wanting to see the movie for awhile and had a lot of difficulty convincing someone to go with me. There were plenty of times that I thought about going on my own, but I've been doing things on my own a lot lately and a movie is generally something that people do together. It sucks a bit that I couldn't have that "What did you think of the movie... which parts were awesome and which parts sucked?" conversation. At least I tried to be social.

Besides my intercambio on Friday and the movie today, I didn't spend time with anyone else. I didn't set out for it to be that way, it just sort of happened. I can blame my own inaction I guess. It's always been hard for me to find a way to know about things that are going on. I need to realize that it is my job to stay informed and I can't expect people to give me a call whenever they decide what they are doing.

My intercambio on Friday was amazing though. I had to conduct this interview with a native Spanish speaker for my Spanish class, asking questions about idiomatic expressions, hand gestures and significant dates in Spanish and Catalonian culture. Idiomatic expressions are always difficult because they don't translate at all. I had a lot of difficulty explaining how "I'm broke" means "I don't have any money." There really isn't any reasoning behind it, you just sort of have to remember the phrase. To the best of my knowledge, everyone in the U.S. that has English as their first language (at least) knows that expression- but if you didn't grow up with it, it's difficult to suddenly add it to your language knowledge because there is no direct equivalent in your native language. My favorite of the Spanish idioms that she taught me was "como un tren" which literally means "like a train." It is used to talk about someone who, as some in America would say in slang terms, had a slammin' body. (I was proud of myself for understanding her translation of the expression as está bueno- as the different between bien/bueno combined with ser/estar has been one of the more difficult concepts for me to grasp. Estar + bueno = good looking) I don't feel comfortable working that expression into my everyday conversation in Spanish, but it's cool to have that knowledge. I have to remember to email her and set up another time to meet. I know I should be doing intercambio more than just two hours per week with one person, but after the other girl stood me up I haven't put any effort into finding anyone else.

I'm stuck in the same old balancing act, trying to give equal attention to improving my Spanish, exploring Barcelona, being social, traveling outside of Barcelona, doing schoolwork, keeping in touch with people, and doing some creative writing. That last one has been suffering a lot, which I really didn't expect. I thought that being in a new environment would kick my imagination into high gear. So far, only my non-fiction and contemplative writing has come to fruition. There is still time. I can and must feel like a writer again because tattoo removal is painful and wicked expensive.

nikki

Alicante- sol y montaña rusas... y la pobreza

2009-10-14T11:04:00.000-07:00

Alicante was beautiful. I climbed to the top of a castle and relaxed on the magnificent shore. On Saturday I got into the city around 2pm and just wandered around for several hours. I found a brochure for the hop on/hop off tourist bus and followed the route of the bus by myself, a wonderful way to save 10 euros in my opinion. I really enjoyed taking the time to examine everything that I saw. I didn't have an agenda, I could do whatever I wanted and not feel guilty about missing something. That's a situation that is difficult for me to get used to. An Australian girl was my roommate that first night. We went out to dinner for some paella, which sucked by the way, and she told me all about her travels thus far. She had broken her foot in Granada and was staying there for awhile before hitchhiking to Portugal with a guy she had fallen in love with. She was just in Alicante for a day and a half, a trip she booked before she broke her foot. She never went to the doctor for it, so after climbing to the top of the castle with me she was in a lot of pain. I was super worried for her, but she just kept telling me that she'd be fine. I was both in awe and appalled. Could I put up with that much pain just to save money and keep traveling?

While we were eating dinner out in the perfectly crisp but comfortable open air, a woman approached out table and put down a photocopied note. Australian girl doesn't know any Spanish, so I translated it for her. The note said that the woman was poor, had nowhere to sleep, no family and no way to find a job. After placing notes on the tables on either side of ours, she went and stood against the wall a few feet away, clutching her empty soda cup. Australian girl had some change that she wanted to get rid of (it adds up and gets heavy quickly) so she picked up her purse to dig some out. The woman rushed to the table and held her cup like two inches away from the girl's face. She didn't seem excited, but rather satisfied. She quickly shoved the cup in my face and I just shook my head. After giving a homeless person five bucks on my second or third day in Boston and watching him immediately go buy alcohol with it, I vowed to never give money to a beggar again. It's complicated. I know some people really could use the money, but I don't feel like I should start giving my money away- if I gave to all of them I would have none. I don't feel obligated to give in that circumstance.

It's hard sometimes, especially when I was in Córdoba and there was a mother with two small children begging for change. Her daughters looked very weak and hungry. I wanted to help, but I couldn't. No one in the large tour group I was with gave her any money. One guy from my program considered giving the family his enormous bottle of water, but decided not to because he thought he was getting sick and didn't want to infect the family's already compromised immune systems. The poor people here are less aggressive than the ones I've encountered on Boston's streets. For the most part, they don't verbally ask for your money. If you aren't paying attention to where you are walking, you could easily trip over someone kneeling on the ground against the corner of a building with their head down and their hand literally extended outward. Sometimes they have signs, I'm used to that. But sometimes they have pictures of their families and that's hard to see. I guess the toughest situation was in Alicante when I saw a young man cradling a dying puppy in his arms. The dog was definitely sick. The first time I saw him I thought maybe he was sleeping, but when I came across them again a few hours later I knew something was really wrong. It angered me that someone who doesn't have enough money to provide for themselves would take on the care of an animal. What does that say to me that I was more affected by a starving dog than two destitute little girls? I hate to say it, but I have more respect for the beggars here because they are passive. It's like they recognize that they shouldn't be asking for money, but have to try. They don't want to intimidate, they want to receive money from people who are truly sympathetic. At least that's how it appears to me...

But back to the woman at dinner in Alicante... I made a stupid move and put her note in my purse. I figured she had a ton of them and I thought it would be interesting to keep it as a memento, a physical reminder of the thought provoking encounter. When she saw me take the note she rushed up to me very quickly and I thought she was going to hit me or something. It frustrated me that my initial reaction was fear. But she just pointed and shook her stack of notes in the air. I asked her in Spanish if she wanted the note back, and her face softened a little realizing that I could speak some of her language and was addressing her as a person. I gave her back the note, I really had no problem doing so. But then the restaurant owner came running out and yelled at the woman to leave. They got into a heated argument about the unemployment crisis in Spain. At the moment, 18% of the population is unemployed. The woman seemed genuine in her anguish and struggle to find a job, but the restaurant manager just called her a bunch of names and said she wasn't trying hard enough. The woman also said that begging shouldn't be a big deal because the foreigners have plenty of money to give. It made sense that she would have this perception. I can't imagine what it feels like to not have anything and yet see so many tourists everywhere spending money like crazy on frivolous things. At that moment I was happy that I knew some Spanish and could understand what was being said. It gave me a unique insight into the reality of poverty in this country. It's easy to miss.

I spent all day Sunday at the amusement park Terra Mítica. I was pleasantly surprised to find a deal in which round trip transportation (train and bus) and entrance to the park was only 35 euros. (On the website it had said that the entrance fee itself was 60 euros!) I enjoyed myself, but I didn't realize how lonely it would be to not have someone to scream with on the rides. At times, there were long lines and it was hard not to keep thinking about how much better it would have been if I'd have had someone to talk to. I'm happy that I went, but I've realized that if I'm going to go to Port Aventura, I need to find a companion. I want to have a good time and not fight feelings of sadness when I should be screaming and laughing like a four year old. I don't have any pictures from the park because I was too nervous about losing, breaking or getting my camera stolen. The park itself was modest compared to some of the parks I've been to in the U.S. but it makes me happy to be able to say that I've ridden roller coasters in a foreign country. I like that I found something unique to do that is a real passion of mine. I'm definitely trying to prevent catching ABC syndrome (only visiting another boring cathedral, another boring cemetery... etc.).

Monday was a federal holiday so a lot of things were closed in the city. I got to go to the Museum of Fine Arts which made me happy. I was able to test some of my Spanish reading comprehension with all of the biographies of painters and insightful descriptions of the paintings. I'm not a huge art buff, but I really enjoyed seeing work from exclusively Spanish artists. I continue to be amazed at how long things from the past can be preserved. The U.S. is such a young country compared to Europe. Being in the presence of something that's 500 years old is just hard to comprehend! I also went to the cultural festival for a little while. There were folk dancing and music performances by groups from all parts of the Spanish speaking world. I saw groups from Columbia, Peru and of course Spain perform. There were many other acts, but after an hour or so in direct sunlight I had to leave. Despite sleeping for a full eight hours without any roommates (four person room all to myself for night #2) I was still absolutely drained after the sun exposure. The weather in Alicante was a bit overwhelming, getting up to 85 degrees during the day with a minimal breeze. The nights were a bit more comfortable, but my sense of time is disrupted by all of this sun. I can't believe it's October because I'm still wearing shorts everyday. Soon the temperature will drop... it has to right?

Other than that museum, I really just walked around the city and spent time reading and writing on the shore. I wasn't on the beach because I have a strong hatred for sand, but there were some comfortable benches on the docks. It was hard for me to just relax. I found myself being anxious, wanting it to finally be time for me to leave for the airport. I didn't want to return to Barcelona, I just wanted to be doing something. In retrospect, I can see that it was good for me to have that time to just lounge around. I was in a breathtakingly beautiful city that I probably will never visit again in my lifetime. It doesn't matter that I don't have a list of things that I accomplished in Alicante. That's not the point of vacations! It's about time that I learn that.

One thing I loved about Alicante was that I heard Spanish everywhere. They do speak Catalan in Alicante, but it is definitely a second language. Some signs are in both languages, but everything is in Spanish. That's how I thought it would be in Barcelona. It was nice to see an example of a different balance between the culture of Catalonia and the culture of Spain in general. I felt more confident in my Spanish abilities outside of Barcelona. I had a few short conversations with people and was able to answer questions and ask for directions without completely freaking out. People did respond to me in English at times, but at least I put the effort out there to speak in Spanish. I can't change the fact that the way I speak Spanish immediately outs me as a foreigner. All I can do is keep practicing the language and making it a bigger part of my life. I keep telling myself that I have to cash in the iTunes gift card I got almost a year ago but haven't touched in order to buy some Spanish songs. I can put them on my iPod and practice my listening while I roam the city! ¡Que guay!

I'm trying to figure out what I can do after I have class to make use of the fact that my mind is in hazy Spanish mode. On Mondays and Wednesdays I have class for four hours straight, so after listening to and speaking in Spanish for that long your brain starts to swirl around with Spanish phrases and half thoughts. Maybe I should write down these thoughts and try to flesh them out so I can attempt to bring up these points in the next class?

In my literature and film class we had to write a short essay about what we thought about Barcelona before we got here and what were our first impressions of the city after arriving. I wrote about many things, but went into detail about my frustrating with Catalan. We spent the majority of class talking about the issues people brought up in their papers and the professor mentioned me by name and explained what I had written. He then asked me to defend myself because no one in the class agreed that Catalan is often an obstacle when living in Barcelona. His point about needing to be more confident and strong in asking people to switch to Spanish is well taken. However, when I brought up the fact that many pages of the university's web site are only available in Catalan, he said that I should find someone to speak with face to face about what information I am looking for. This really angered me. I don't feel like I should have to do that just to get a sense of what is going on in the university. I think news about the university should be accessible to everyone. How can I feel welcomed into the campus community when my lack of knowledge of Catalan keeps me out of the communication loop? After class, the professor tried to be nice and offered to help me if I have something I want to know that is only available in Catalan in the university's literature. I appreciate his offer, but it made me upset that I should need the professor to hold my hand in order for me to even figure out if there is something I would be interested in that is going on within the university. I wanted him to admit that it wasn't fair for a campus that prides itself on being international to not translate everything into the official language of the country in which it is located. When no one would agree with me on that point, I started to lose it. Thankfully it was the end of class and I had another one to go to right away. I had started to cry a little bit out of frustration, but was able to keep it in check for the most part. I guess I need to do some more work in order to find the good in the Catalan like it seems everyone else has...

nikki

cocinar... ¡con sabor y risas!

2009-10-09T13:54:00.000-07:00

Last night was the Cook and Taste event with my group. Eight of us participated in cooking the four course meal. I made my lack of cooking skills and knowledge abundantly clear from the beginning, so I was given the task of peeling and cutting the tomatoes for the gazpacho. I now know how to get the skins off easily and quickly! :) The entire experience was just a lot of fun. Not for a second did I think about schoolwork or any other things that I "should" have been doing. It was so refreshing to live completely in the moment and enjoy what was happening with no regrets or guilt.

After over three hours of preparing and cooking it was finally time to eat. We had the gazpacho (cold tomato soup with delicious add ons) first in little shot glasses. I thought I would hate it, but the flavors mixed together were delicious. We also had tortilla de patatas which is really popular here. It's your basic egg and potatoes, but it was amazing on top of some crunchy bread drenched in olive oil. Everything here is cooked with olive oil instead of butter. I think it tastes better! For the main course we had a seafood paella. There were crawfish, clams, muscles and squid mixed into the signature rice and spices. Everything tasted so good together that I didn't even realize I had eaten the clams and muscles until they had disappeared from my plate. I've never consciously consumed either before, but I'm so glad that I tried them. I had to stop myself from taking seconds because dessert was crema catalana. Creme brulee (sorry I haven't mastered how to type french accent marks yet) is considered a version of crema catalana, but I couldn't tell much of a difference-- they are both fantastic. The best part was probably watching two of the people in my group torch the dessert to melt the sugar on top. I enjoyed seeing how the dessert is made. It's always fascinated me how the soft and creamy could be covered by the hard and sweet.

I've tried to be adventurous when it comes to food here. The other day I tried baby octopus, they were complete miniature octopus bodies. Somehow it is easier to eat something when it no longer resembles the animal that it came from. Psychologically it was very difficult to put the baby octopus in my mouth because even though it was no longer alive, I couldn't get the image of it moving and swimming out of my head. I thought it would be disgusting, but it really just picked up the flavors of the olive oil and garlic sauce it was sitting in on the plate. I've found it is easiest when I don't know what I'm eating and only find out afterwards. I took this approach in Sevilla while ordering tapas off of a rather complicated menu. My Spanish food vocabulary is pretty extensive, but the names of the dishes really didn't reveal too much about their ingredients. My friend and I just picked three that sounded interesting. I liked them all! It ended up that they were unfamiliar variations of pork, lamb and fish-- so nothing too crazy, but I still felt adventurous. I am definitely up for trying some more things that normally in the U.S. I shy away from. Somehow being in a foreign country makes you feel like you need to take more risks and challenge your beliefs. There is no reason why I've never eaten baby octopus, therefore I should do it!

I'm going to Alicante for the weekend, traveling solo. I'm so excited to go to Terra Mítica. It has been far too long since I've been on a roller coaster. :) Other than that, I don't have any concrete plans. I want to just explore the city and if I happen to find a museum or some sort of activity I will do it, but I don't feel like I need an itinerary. Traveling isn't about seeing all that I can, it's about seeing and doing what makes me happy. It has always been difficult for me to determine what makes me happy, what I want to do completely and only for myself, but I think this experience will help to change that. Some people here don't understand why I'm traveling alone, but I honestly feel like it is the best way to go to make sure that you get to do what you want to do. I want to make the memories that mean something to me. When I'm with a group I usually let other people decide what we're doing because I hate arguing, but when I'm alone I have to make the decisions and I feel stronger.

nikki

Sevilla y Córdoba... y muchas cosas más, como siempre

2009-10-07T14:44:00.000-07:00

My trip to Sevilla (Seville in English) and Córdoba was amazing over this past weekend. The trip was a much needed break from the chaos of Barcelona. Everything was just so beautiful and calm. It was the first time here that I really felt like I was on vacation in some exotic locale. Girona was nice, but Sevilla was a city that the whole time I was there I knew I would never forget it. The trip was paid for by CIEE so I didn't have to worry about making arrangements for flights or hotels and we got some money for meals. This made things so much better, it was impossible to feel stressed about anything other than not having enough time to really explore.

My first thought upon arriving in Sevilla was that I should've chosen to study there for the semester. It felt so much more like an authentic Spanish locale. NO CATALAN WHATSOEVER OH MY GOSH I LOVED IT! Also, no one spoke English either, so I really got a chance to use some of my Spanish. I surmised that if I was there for an extended period of time I would have no choice but to become more comfortable with the language because I would never be able to do anything without opening my mouth. In Barcelona I encounter the problem of people speaking back to me in English. But in Sevilla this wouldn't really happen as often, and I think I'd benefit from a slower paced environment. Maybe people there would be more patient with me when I try to speak. It was just hard not to become so hostile about Barcelona when I was in a place that totally matched the image of Spain that I've had in my head since I was little. Sure, there are places in Barcelona that sort of have that feel but in Sevilla the entire city has such things in common. It is very small, but I am confident that I would find things and places to entertain me. Sevilla has its own rich history and culture. I think that after a semester there I could really feel like I knew the place, whereas in Barcelona I think it would take more than a lifetime to really understand the city as a whole. There is just too much going on over too large of a surface area. It just makes things overwhelming.

On the flip side, being away from Barcelona has motivated me to make a list of all of the things that I want to do in and around the city. I can't do it all, but it makes sense to decide what are my desires and then go about fulfilling them. Top on the list is going to Port Aventura, the amusement park. They are having special Halloween events going on until the middle of November. I'm so excited I want to go next weekend (this weekend I'll be in Alicante!) but I also want to see if I can find someone else to go with me. Roller coasters are so much more fun if you have someone to scream with. Most of the people I talked to didn't want to spend the money, but there has to be someone with a little adventure in their heart.

I also went on Ticketmaster to see if there are any events going on in Barcelona that I should be aware of. There is an international snowboarding competition in the middle of November that looked really cool to watch. It's taking place on a freakin mountain, it's pretty much the only time that there is public transportation to this locale. I'm not a sports fan by any means, but the tickets are cheap and I think it would be a great way to spend a weekend. I want to find more cool things like that to do in the city. Events like that just don't happen in Sevilla. I have to remind myself of the advantages of living in a city, that there is really just so much more to see and do, that I'm lucky to be here and have all of these opportunities. Instead of feeling overwhelmed I should be excited about all of the things I'm going to do. I just have to keep choosing one thing at a time and going forward in my plans.

But of course my excitement about further traveling outside of Barcelona has been stimulated by this past weekend's excursion. I booked tickets and a hostel for Thanksgiving weekend to go to Bruges in Belgium. The flight was wicked cheap (100 euros round trip) and both of my well traveled friends (okay the only two) recommended the city. I am really excited to go somewhere random and take advantage of having the money and the time to go on a vacation. I don't have any concrete plans for what to do when I'm there, and that's really absolutely fine by me. That's the attitude I'm going to bring to my month of traveling after the program ends. From the middle of December to the middle of January I will be able to do whatever I want in Europe. I'm going to Madrid, Paris and London-- most likely in that order. That's all I really need to know for right now. Soon I will think about dates, but I am not going to go crazy and try to plan everything. I need to work on extinguishing this fear that I'm going to miss out on something. It's not possible to miss out on something. There are no negatives in this, only positives when something is accomplished.

Speaking of a big positive, today I had my first meeting with an intercambio (language exchange) partner that I contacted over the internet (this site is wonderful). She is a 23 year old originally from Tarragona who is currently studying French and Chinese. I think we hit it off quite well, the time passed so quickly that she was late going to her class. I did a great job holding my own in speaking Spanish. I need to do this more often. I am meeting with another girl on Friday. I'm sure that will go well. I have about 30 responses from interested partners just sitting in my inbox. I guess I'll have to figure out if I should stick with the same partners or try a bunch of different ones. Is my goal to make friends or to expose myself to different types of people? Maybe speaking to many people will help me process a variety of accents?

One day at a time. One day at a time. One day at a time. * breathe * :)

Tomorrow night is the Cook and Taste class through CIEE. Not sure what we're doing exactly, but from pics on facebook of other groups I can surmise that we will be attempting to cook some traditional Spanish food. I already feel sorry for whoever has to eat what I make! I'm excited to do something so out of character for me and of course I love when someone else pays for my entertainment and food. On Friday I have my Spanish grammar class until 12 and then the intercambio at 12:30. After that I am free until class at 10:30 Tuesday morning. Monday, Columbus Day to all of you in the U.S., is a holiday here as well. It's called the Fiesta Nacional de España or Día de la Hispanidad. Roughly translated, it means that this is the day Spain uses as its day of national pride. (Although it is important to note that in Catalonia this date is much, much, much less important that September 11th, which if you remember from an earlier post is the day of pride for Catalonia only.) Because Columbus was sailing for Spain when he "discovered America" (a strange phrase when you consider that the landmass already existed and he had no idea where he actually was) Spain marks this date as a symbol of Spain at its greatest historical moment of power. There really isn't any celebration in the streets or anything, it's just a nice opportunity to relax :) I'm using the day off to travel this weekend.

Yup, leaving for Alicante early Saturday morning and getting back late Monday night. I hope I have a great time and can figure out a way to get to Terra Mitica, the amusement park. My intercambio partner said that she likes the park a lot and would definitely recommend it. I might have to be a little inventive when it comes to transportation (a few buses, a train and a taxi) but if it's my goal to get there I will do it. There are also some museums and pretty things to look at in Alicante, so I am definitely not worried about being bored. Although it wouldn't be such a bad thing to sit somewhere with my journal and let my mind float away.

nikki

and the lesson is...?

2009-10-05T14:07:00.000-07:00

The other day after my communications class I went up to the professor to ask his opinion about the recent published picture of Spain's President Zapatero's two teenaged daughters. His family had posed with Barack Obama and family while visiting the U.S. From the moment Zapatero took office in 2004 the press was banned from taking any photos of the children. In fact, it is Spanish law that children under the age of 18 cannot be interviewed or photographed in the press.

Immediately after the pictures were taken, the U.S. government uploaded them to the internet and they were subsequently available for mass reproduction by all of the press in the world. There was quite the scandal because both girls wore all black and very dark makeup and were thus deemed "goth" and somehow an embarrassment to the President in the eyes of Americans because we highly value the appearance of political figures. That's not true in Spain. No one cares about their personal lives, if they have an affair for example- there is little fanfare or real interest in the details. In most cases, the public has never seen the politician's wife. Politicians aren't celebrities, all that matters is their policies- what they are or are not doing for Spain's citizens. People think that publishing the photos was disrespectful on many levels, but especially because the girls are at "a difficult time" in their lives and deserve to be kept out of the public eye, able to walk around freely without being recognized and potentially harassed when their father's actions aren't well received.

Many newspapers here in Spain, both in print and online, refused to publish the photos and the ones that did blurred out the girls' faces. In contrast, the pictures were published unaltered by all news sources in the U.S. as soon as they became available.

(If you're really curious, you can find the pic here.)

I found all of this pretty interesting. I don't fault the U.S. for publishing the photos because I think Zapatero was stupid to let the picture be taken when it is that important to him to keep his daughter's images private. How could you now know that the photographs would be distributed?

Even though I don't consider myself religious, I inherently subscribe to the idea that politicians should be "good" people, held to a higher standard than the average person. One way that we judge people is how their family appears, what they are doing reflects the ideals of the politician. However sometimes the coverage of the family can be outrageous. CNN reported on what was being served for lunch at the private school that Obama's daughter's attend during the election-- why the hell is that news worthy? Why are we obsessed with our politician's personal lives? Doesn't it make it harder for the person to be judged on their policies and actions?

I thought that the professor would be happy to share his opinion with me because it was a hot topic and he was teaching us about Spanish press. But it seemed like he was offended that I was addressing him as an equal, while I thought I was showing my respect for him by treating him as an authority on the subject. This probably reflects the difference here in the expected relationship between professors and students. I was told that it is more formal, but the professors of my classes (that are specifically designed for non-native speakers) have definitely given the impression that they wanted to break down that wall. I guess I need more time to figure out what is and isn't appropriate. It is just difficult for me to ask questions and have a dialogue in front of the entire class. I have this problem even in English because I just get so shy and think the other kids are judging me for having doubts or an uninformed opinion. But now that I have to speak in Spanish it is almost impossible to share my thoughts like I'm used to doing in the U.S. I've always been the student that wants to make sure she is known to the professor, who makes an impression because of her enthusiasm and honest expressed interest in engaging with the material.

I think that the language barrier is making me appear like I don't have opinions because when I try to talk in class I can't develop my arguments. My mind is thinking tons and tons of interesting points so quickly and I can't translate most of it. It's difficult to prepare what I want to say and jump into the conversation while my point is still relevant. I was very frustrated in my literature and film class this morning because I had views I wanted to express but I just couldn't keep up with the conversation. It took so much effort to listen to everyone and follow what was going on that I kept raising my hand to speak after the professor was really looking for more opinions. I don't know how to shorten the delay between when I have a thought and when it is ready to be shared with the class, that is it has been translated in spite of my full of wholes vocabulary and greatly impaired sense of grammar. I just need more practice and confidence. I know by the end of the semester I will be participating and contributing to discussions. I might not be able to do so as much as I do in English, but I know that I will get better and learn from this experience.

I just wish that the other students in the class would speak Spanish with me when we are doing group work. I don't understand why they don't want to practice the language! In class today we had to form groups of three students each for a project. I approached two girls and asked in Spanish if they needed another person. They just stared at me until I repeated it in English and then they went into all English mode. At least that wasn't as annoying as the two guys in the back of the classroom that talk to each other in English the entire two hours, even when most of us are straining to listen to the lecture. I need to be able to concentrate on what is being said because if I miss a word or two it is very difficult to follow what is going on. I have my first intercambio date on Wednesday with a native Spanish speaker that will help me with my Spanish in exchange for my help with her English. I hope it goes well and we can set up something weekly. It will be so nice to be with someone that is patient with me so I can complete my thoughts in Spanish and participate in a dialogue instead of having to either endure silence, be screamed at in broken English or be subjected to a Spanish monologue.

nikki

¡Me gustan intercambios!

2009-09-30T14:12:00.001-07:00

Tonight I had my first intercambio through CIEE. In an intercambio, each American student is paired up with a native Spanish speaker (almost all were current university students) and given almost two hours to talk about whatever, instructed to speak half the time in Spanish and half the time in English so each person could practice their non-dominant language.

Well that's how it's all set up, but obviously things never go according to plan. Some of the native Spanish speakers didn't show up, so sometimes two or three Americans were fighting for talk time with one Spaniard. There were some tables and chairs but nowheres near enough for the 70 people crammed in the one narrow space. People roamed around freely, so the pairings did not last long and the free food was devoured quickly. There was some free beer (no matter how many times I see alcohol available as part of an official program function it still makes me bristle) and soda and I was happy that I could grab a lemon Fanta. If you get a chance to come to Spain you should definitely try a lemon Fanta, it's the perfect middle ground between sprite and lemonade.

I talked a lot with a girl named Sandra. I was so happy that we had something we could talk about because she is coming to the U.S. in the spring to study for the semester at Boston College. I had all of this advice that I could give her about the city so I was helping her out, and I also felt really comfortable talking about the city that I love that it didn't really bother me that I was speaking in Spanish. We spoke in Spanish the entire time because she said that she didn't need to practice English. I really think that with more opportunities like this I can really improve my speaking skills. I was so pleased that she was patient with me when I needed time to gather my thoughts and took the time to answer my questions when I wasn't sure how to articulate something.

I just feel so much better when I can understand someone when they are speaking Spanish. I know that they are speaking a lot slower than they would to another native speaker, but I still think that it counts- even though I can't listen very well to the Spanish I hear everyday in the streets, the more that I listen to Spanish in any form the more that my ears will get used to the sounds. Some people here might criticize me for the amount of t.v. that I watch (or have on in the background- Buffy the Vampire Slayer is on at the moment) but 90 percent of the time I watch it with Spanish audio. I use the Spanish subtitles when I can, but I do see myself eventually not needing them. If watching t.v. helps me with my Spanish then I am going to watch it! (Also, it is nice to have some noise in my room otherwise I do feel like I am in some sort of padded cell because everything is so white and stagnant.)

I wish that people in the program would try harder to only speak in Spanish. It is really difficult because there is so much that we want to say to each other than we don't know how to express in Spanish, so we switch back to English without even realizing it. I don't think there is a way to fix that really. So I need to dedicate some time to finding more intercambio partners. Luckily there are resources available, apparently there is a great demand for native English speakers. This surprises me quite a bit because it seems like there are a lot of American or British students wandering the streets, but the situation works out in my favor so I'm not going to question it.

nikki

Back to reality

2009-09-28T09:02:00.000-07:00

La Mercé festival ended last night with the best fireworks show I have ever seen, and this is from someone who has always worshipped the display for 4th of July in Boston. This picture doesn't do it justice at all, but I thought it gave an idea as to how the fireworks occurred above the famous fountain at Montjuic. It was very calming to be in solidarity with so many people, foreign and Barcelona born alike, just enjoying the moment as the show exploded before us. It is often difficult for me to keep my mind focused in the present, but throughout the 35 minute show I was positively captivated. You could really just feel how happy people were for the celebration, and it just seemed like a great way to end the mini vacation before classes started...

Which was today. I had two classes, Literature and Film of Barcelona/Madrid and Communications and Society in Spain. Obviously I'm worried about both, but there is no way to tell for sure what is in store from the first class. The communications class seems like it is a bit over my head because I have no communications background and 50% of our grade is a final group project in which we have to produce a 5 minute radio spot complete with interviews and in depth journalistic insight. I think what really disappoints me is that all of the other students in my classes are American. I knew that there would not be Spanish students in the classes but I was lead to believe that other international students would be. I don't have control over this, but it is a let down because I was expecting to be able to meet non-Americans and perhaps forget a few positive acquaintances with people of different cultures. I have little desire to meet more Americans and be subjected to more of the same outlook. That sounds a lot harsher than I meant it...

My main academic objective here is to improve my Spanish. The subjects I'm taking are interesting to me, but I want to be honest with myself that I don't really have the time or the sanity to investigate them thoroughly. For my literature and film class I could spend hours and hours everyday reading and researching about Barcelona and Spain and still not really have a complete sense of the history and culture that allows the creation of the literature and film that we are studying, and then the total impact of these works and their significance in everyday life as well as national and local identity. It's all just too complicated. I think the professor was greatly disheartened at the class's general lack of knowledge about Barcelona and Spain in general, especially in areas of history, geography and politics. Obviously the class does not delve into these subjects with great attention to detail, but if we were better informed we would have a much easier time grasping the importance of the creative works that we are going to study. I hope that I am able to enjoy what we study on a higher level than simple entertainment, but if not-- I'm okay with that.

It sounds awful in my head, but I'm really not motivated to go out of my way to really explore and examine the culture here. I am content to investigate what I want and learn what I am taught in a formal setting. I would be perfectly fine with never having an in depth conversation with someone from Barcelona about their everyday life. I am here to improve my Spanish and travel. Sure I want to meet people that I would not get the chance to meet in the U.S., but I think that's different than having a desire to immerse myself in their culture. I am willing, for example, to try new foods but I don't see the point in putting the effort in to eat something new and/or traditional all the time. I like going to the supermarket and buying my frozen chicken nuggets and making my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Maybe it is a comfort thing, but it is also very practical in my mind.

I do have a very random complaint about the supermarkets here. I have been dying to buy bananas but they do not sell them in small bunches here. Either they are prepackaged in a large bunch (we're talking like six or seven) or you must hope that you encounter a naturally occurring bunch that isn't as large. I went to break off two bananas from a bunch at one of the fruit stands today and the shop owner reacted like I had broken an entire aisle's worth of glass jars. He sprinted towards me and snatched the bunch out of my hands before I could break off what I wanted. I told him I was sorry and walked away. I'm not buying a huge bunch when I am just one person and couldn't possible eat that much in the short amount of time that they will still be fresh. Maybe I can get someone to go in halfsies with me...

But there are always trade offs I suppose. They have yellow plums here that I absolutely adore. Perhaps they exist in the U.S. somewhere but I have never seen them. I am just content that I can find decent quality fruit here that isn't super expensive. It is hard to eat healthy here with all the pastry shops and ever popular fattening bocadillos (whatever you could think of in between hard as rocks halves of a baguette). I've been making all of my own food in an attempt to keep my weight in check, we'll see how that goes.

I have an assignment to complete and I want to get it done tonight but it is hard to be motivated because it isn't due until next Monday. We hard to write a short essay explaining what we thought Barcelona was going to be like before we got here and then what was our initial reaction after we arrived. I'm not sure if I can be brief about that at all! I think it is better to get it done soon because we are going to Sevilla early Friday morning and won't be back until late Sunday night. In addition, I have no idea what other homework I'm going to be responsible for...

Right now I have to go attend to my laundry. The machines are finally working in the residencia so it is now my responsibility to clean my clothes. (While the machines were out of order CIEE was paying for someone else to take our clothes to a laundromat and handle them for us, a luxury I had never experienced before.) It's expensive, 2.50 euros to wash and 3 euros to dry, but that's common in Europe from what I've heard. It's a little confusing as to why the capacity of the washers is 9kg while the capacity of the dryers is 14kg. The dryers are rather huge, I'm sure some of the short and skinny girls here could fit inside them comfortably, but they take half as long to do their job than they do in the machines I've used in the U.S. Again, trade offs abound.

nikki

On a happier note...

2009-09-25T10:42:00.003-07:00

(I'd recommend reading the post previous to this one first because you'll appreciate it a lot more.)

Once I recovered from the purse slashing, we went to the circus and it was interesting, so the day was not a waste by any means. So far the La Mercé festival has been a great way to relax and appreciate being in Barcelona. Yesterday we saw the human towers, which has been something I've always wanted to see live but never thought I'd get the chance. That's what the pic above is from. Unfortunately that was the best shot I could get because there were just so many people in the plaza that it was very difficult for a shortie like me to get a clear view. The excitement sort of makes up for what happened today... almost.

The one complaint I have about the festival is that the main programs are only available in Catalan. There is a very small pamphlet available in Spanish but it doesn't offer a map or complete descriptions of the activities or even a coherent timetable. If you want something meaning full in English, you are definitely out of luck. Only after searching for hours were we able to find one site with some info in English. The official web site for the festival definitely shows the hierarchy of languages here. All of the info is available in the Catalan version. Some of the info is available in the Spanish version. Almost nothing is available in the English version. I feel that if they take the time to make three versions they should give them all equal attention. If you are only going to post three articles on the English website, why bother creating one in the first place? It seems more disrespectful to only give a little bit of info, it seems to me like an acknowledgment and subsequent dismissal like "We know you tourists are going to come to our activities but we're not going to make it easy for you to invade our cultural events and disrupt our pride in our city." I know I was trying to speak Spanish as much as I could while out and about yesterday in the crowds because I didn't want to draw attention to myself as a foreigner. I probably wasn't that successful, but you can't always hide who you are.

Right now I am very tired from walking around all day yesterday and today but apparently there is some concert going on at midnight tonight and a bunch of people are going. I should go and be social and show that I want to put myself out there, because I do, I really do want to be a part of things. There is no other way that I'm going to survive here.

nikki

There's no easy way to say this...

2009-09-25T10:23:00.000-07:00

I almost got robbed on the Metro today. A group of us were on the escalator coming out of the Espanya stop on the way to the circus that's part of the La Mercé festival when this woman kept bumping into me. I grabbed my bag tighter and stepped away a little bit, but didn't think it was anything serious. I was talking to one of the girls from the program who was two steps above me on the escalator and turned around to face me. The strap on my bag was over my head and my arm was over my bag covering the zippered main compartment and both of the side pockets. I thought I was being smart and no one could find a way to take my things.

Oh so wrong. When I got to the top of the escalator I felt someone's hand brush against my hip. I turned around and felt the side of my bag. A sizeable hole had been cut into it. Once out on the plaza I scrambled to take account of my things and luckily nothing was missing. There honestly hadn't been enough time on the escalator to rip a hole big enough to get anything of value out. Also, the only thing worth anything in the main compartment of my purse is my camera and that is in a huge cumbersome case that never would've fit through a hole that size.

Even though nothing was gone, my heart would not stop beating out of my chest. I just felt so violated. I know that's really strong and I should just learn a lesson to be more vigilant and move on, but my mind is really stuck on this. I start to blame myself and think of all the things I could've done differently, all of the ways that I draw attention to myself and present myself as an easy target. I don't take it personally exactly, but I can definitely see how being distracted and speaking in English worked against me. It's the festival and some events were going on at the Metro stop. Everything about me screamed innocent tourist. I was just lucky that nothing was taken, just dumb luck.

Now I have to find a new bag that is more theft resistant. I guess I should choose a tougher fabric to cut? Something with a tighter strap that I can hold completely in front of me at all times? I just feel so much more paranoid now, staring at everyone with mounting suspicion. The entire day after this happened I kept thinking that there is someone looking at me right now that is evaluating whether or not they can rob me.

It's not that I thought I was invincible, I just always considered myself responsible and aware of my surroundings. I always thought that people who get robbed without being threatened by a weapon were careless with their belongings in some way. In the end I don't think I was careless, I simply was subjected to a manner of theft that I never considered possible before.

For now I have another bag that is more like a purse, very small and made of (fake) leather. I'm guessing I can keep it closer to my body and cover the entire thing with my arms. I need to learn how to look like I know the dangers and refuse to be taken advantage of. I want people to think that I'm not worth the trouble.

I shouldn't be so shaken by this, but in the end what really gets me is that someone had an object sharp enough to cut through fabric right next to my skin. I'm honestly surprised that I wasn't cut. I'm ticked off that I'm going to remember this forever, that someone has forced their way into my memory. I don't want to give them that power but I don't feel like I can stop and reverse that reaction.

I'll just have to be more careful and accept that if someone wants to rob me they are going to find a way to do it.

nikki

A Few Words of Caution

2009-09-21T15:04:00.000-07:00

1.) Don't make international calls at a phone booth in an airport using a credit card. Despite what they might tell you, the rate per minute is ridiculously high and the connection fee is unbelievable.

CASE IN POINT: I made a call from the Madrid airport using a credit card. It was under a minute, only a quick message left on voicemail. It took a while to post of my account, but when I checked my statement today there was a charge for $54.33. For one minute on the phone. After complaining to Mastercard they said that I had to take up the issue with the phone service. After waiting on hold for ten minutes, I finally got to talk to a person and convinced her to give me my money back. Now I have to hope that the credit comes through soon, because Mastercard won't take the block off my account until my dispute of this charge is settled.

2.) Don't believe credit card companies when they say that notifying them of your travels will prevent you from having problems using your card(s) while abroad.

CASE IN POINT: I just spent 15 minutes on hold and 5 minutes trying to explain to Bank of America why I tried to use my credit card to purchase airplane tickets in Spain. Before I left I had made it perfectly clear to the company that I was going to use this card and yet when I tried it did not work. I am lucky that I was able to use my debit card, otherwise I would've lost my flight reservation.

Honestly, my debit card still working is what has saved me recently. I set up an online verification account for it, so whenever I try to use it online it redirects me to the account and when I type in my password the transaction is approved. I haven't found a way to set this up for credit cards.

So after a long night of dealing with lovely customer service representatives, I have done what I can to alleviate my financial woes. I'm just happy that I've been paying cash for all of my face to face transactions and haven't had to deal with this on a daily basis. Also, Skype deserves a big shout out for making it possible to call toll free numbers while I'm abroad. The credit card companies have collect numbers that you can call from abroad, but it can be more trouble than it's worth to try to call collect.

Now my next fight is with the iNext insurance company, which is the service that CIEE purchased for all of the kids in the program. I had to see a doctor, which cost about $180. I had to pay this out of pocket and then file a claim with the company and they'll reimburse me whenever they feel like it. Well I called them last Thursday to send me the claim forms via email and I'm still waiting. I'm too tired now (it's 12:30 am) to make that call. It should be easier in theory... but I've strained my voice enough tonight. I have to preserve something for my oral presentation tomorrow.

And yet there is light at the end of the tunnel. This weekend is the big Barcelona cultural festival La Merce, next weekend is the CIEE sponsored (freeeee!) trip to Sevilla and then the weekend after that is the three day weekend that everyone is traveling. Because I could use my debit card, I was able to book plane tickets & hostel reservations for a weekend in Alicante! So much to look forward to!

I just have to get through the next two days of class, a final exam and the aforementioned presentation.

nikki

Girona

2009-09-20T04:02:00.000-07:00

I spent a little less than 24 hours in Girona this weekend, and 9 of those were "sleeping" (in the sense that I was lying in a bed attempting to rest). This might seem like a small amount of time, but it was really all I needed. I visited the Catalonia Museum of Art and the Museum of Film. I really liked the Museum of Film, it showed the progression of drawings on paper all the way to complete movies in color with sound. There were a lot of authentic objects used throughout the centuries to capture images in a variety of ways. The quote above really struck me. It seems so simple, but it sums up in a few words how much the ability to capture movement and sound means to our society.

The one bad part about the museum is that the use of perfectly cleaned glass caused me to hit my head hard against one such pane. I bent down to look through one of the view finders and got too close. I had no idea that there was a pane of glass separating me from the object, as in many other instances there were objects that were not protected. I was so afraid that I was going to set off some alarm that I didn't realize how much my head hurt at first. There is a slight bump on my forehead, but nothing that anyone other than me would notice. I hope they weren't too mad at having to clean the imprint of my head off the glass...

The other picture above sums up what the town looked like, very traditional with stones and steep inclines everywhere. It was interesting to me to see how many people actually lived here, as there were many apartment doors that jutted out from the stone walls. I felt like I would be insanely bored and annoyed at living in such a small town overrun with tourists on a daily basis. There were some nice shops and plenty of fancy restaurants, but nothing overly exciting. I was upset that the Museum of Jewish History is closed on the weekends, that was the one thing I really wanted to see. If you go back far enough in my family there were a lot of devout Jews. I personally don't subscribe to the beliefs, but it would've been a great experience for me to see some of the remnants of Jewish settlements in Spain from many centuries ago. I am upset that I read the schedule wrong, but honestly I did my best- it was in Catalan afterall.

However I am convinced that the schedule online for the busses from Girona to Barcelona was incorrect. I checked and double checked on the times so I would have my pick of departure times today. Before arriving I wasn't sure how long I would want to spend there. It turned out that one day or so was sufficient for what I wanted to accomplish, and I have a oral presentation and final exam to prepare for. I got to the bus station at 9 for a 10 o'clock bus and it wasn't on the schedule. Because it's Saturday, none of the info desks were open. I had to wait for a bus from the same company to show up and then ask for a schedule. Luckily they had one, and I was insanely ticked off as well as dumbfounded that the only departures to Barcelona were at 8:45 in the morning and 4:45 in the evening. There was no way that I was waiting until the evening to depart, so I had to go to the train station and pay extra money to get home at a reasonable time. I was fortunate that there was a train leaving at 10:15, but it still sucked to have to spend more money. I had bought a round trip ticket for the bus and now half of that money has been wasted. I guess I will try to learn from this experience.

I'm just happy that I know enough Spanish to speak up about such issues and find the right info. Even being able to complain about a charge on the bill at dinner last night made me very happy. I could've just as easily accepted the accidental charge (it was only 1 euro) but I decided that I would take a chance and articulate the issue as best as I could. I was surprised at my success. I kept thinking that there was no way I could maneuver this well when I go to France. I'm not sure when I'm going yet, but I really want to go to Paris and there is an amusement park outside the city that is supposed to be wonderful. From what I've heard, Paris is difficult to get around because most of the signs are not in English. I'll manage (I'll have to) but I'm not looking forward to it. I'll do my best to find an English - French phrase book somewhere around here...

nikki

Pharmacies

2009-09-17T12:11:00.000-07:00

When I first got here I thought it was very strange that the pharmacies were so small. When you walk in, there are a few products on shelves (innocuous things like sun screen and wrinkle cream) but a few feet past the entry way there is a long counter and usually two women in white coats stand behind it waiting to serve you. Everything is behind that counter. There is no such thing as picking out a certain kind of medicine for yourself. You must interact with a human being in order to receive what you need.

I guess this is a good thing, a place where I am forced to use my Spanish. But it just makes it very awkward to always have to explain to someone why you need a certain product instead of being able to pluck it off a shelf and take it to the counter where no words are exchanged between you and the 17 year old cashier.

A group of us in the residencia have come down with the same cough in the past few days. We have a few theories for our sickness, and it's probably a combination of them all that is the true cause. First, the change in weather must be taken into account. It dropped 15 degrees overnight. I love the cooler weather but it can really throw your body into a tailspin when it is subjected to a radically different environment. Second, everyone smokes in Spain and they smoke everywhere they can. There are some laws that prohibit smoking in some public places, but no one follows them and they are not enforced. Just walking around the city I probably inhale two or three cigarettes worth of smoke everyday. Most of us are not used to smoke in our lungs and think it is definitely irritating our bodies. Third, the residencia is very new and people have found all sorts of imperfections within it. Certain things were just not completed before they opened the building the day before I arrived. We have hypothesized that there is some sort of malfunction with the heating/cooling vents possibly involving mass quantities of dust and perhaps chemicals. We know we aren't going to die, we're just hacking away uncomfortably.

So I went to the pharmacy to purchase some cough syrup and was intimidated to learn that I would have to ask for it. The pharmacist talked to me like I was an idiot when she heard my awfully american accented Spanish, but at least I got what I needed. I still need to see if I can find cough drops somewhere. Perhaps tomorrow I will go to another pharmacy and see if I can explain to the pharmacist what I am looking for. I don't think I will ever get used to not having certain items readily available in the supermarket. It doesn't make sense to me why cough syrup and the like would have to be kept hidden behind a counter.

It makes me wonder what people from Spain think when they go into a CVS in the states...

Later I went to a new supermarket to see if I could find any different products or perhaps better prices. It took me half a minute to realize that everything in the store was in Catalan. But instead of being frustrated, I was intrigued by the challenge. I could look at the product and see the name in Catalan and save the info for later. I'm just happy that I could find some icepops for my throat. They were pretty expensive and only come in packs of four but at least I have something.

I have to go to the supermarket about once every three days here. My fridge is very small and the mini freezer in the kitchen is shared between 12 people. But also the portions that are sold in the stores are very small. You can't get the equivalent of a gallon of milk in one container. Tuna fish is sold in cans half the size of the ones I buy in the states. As I run out of things I have to keep going back to buy more. It's a switch to go several times a week for a few items at a time when I'm used to hauling my cart over to Whole Foods once a week and lugging all of my loot home in one trip.

What was interesting about this supermarket was that there were no bags of any kind to put your purchases into. Most people here have their own personal carts covered in fabric that they use to transport groceries from the store to their house. The other supermarket I've been going to is part of a chain so maybe that's why they have plastic bags. But this smaller supermarket had nothing of the sort and I had to walk home very carefully to not drop something. I was very happy that I had limited my purchase as I couldn't have carried one more item.

This morning I inquired about switching into the Spanish grammar class for the fall. It will most likely be possible that I can get into the grammar class or the writing class instead of the language and society class I'm registered for now. Either of those two classes will help me improve my Spanish so I can have an easier time in my other three classes that are taught in Spanish but are about other subjects like history and film. In order to make the switch I need the sign off from my advisor at Northeastern. I sent her an email but got an automatic response that because it's the beginning of the semester and everyone wants to add/drop classes she isn't able to respond to emails. She advised to go to her walk in hours or call and make an appointment for the end of the month. Obviously I cannot do these things. I called the advising office and was put on hold. I waited for two minutes and hung up because it is very expensive to call the U.S. and I wasn't going to waste any more money. I am going to call tomorrow right when the office opens (8:3o Boston time) and hopefully not have to be put on hold. I am not very hopeful that I will get what I need (a simple yeahthat'sfine email) but I have to try. It's just annoying because my advisor doesn't care what I take because my degree is completed. It should be enough for me to say that I want to switch classes. I hate when something like this comes up and reminds me that I'm not in control of my life yet.

nikki

Soy estudiante

2009-09-14T11:02:00.000-07:00

Today I took the first test I've had since December. 8 1/2 months of rest for my academic brain. This past weekend was three days but the entire time I felt like I had this cloud over my head, a responsibility to not waste time and study efficiently.

I did okay on the test, but not as well as I think I deserved to. I probably studied more than most of the people in the class, but it turned out that what I focused on was not what the test focused on. I spent hours learning the rules to conjugate verbs in four tenses. I wrote out all the exceptions and memorized as much as I could. I now feel much better about some of my grammatical knowledge, but for 90% of the test I did not have to conjugate a single verb. It was disappointing. I just hate when my knowledge is not accurately reflected in an assessment. For some reason, it matters to me that the teacher knows I'm doing my best-- and my performance on this test gives the impression that I didn't take it seriously.

There's nothing I can do to change the outcome so I'm not stressing too badly. Hopefully I won't repeat the same mistakes on the final exam. That's all I can really do at this point.

As a general observation, time goes by very quickly here. I had to purchase a bus ticket and do a little food shopping after class so I didn't get home until after 7 (class ends at 5:15). Then of course I wanted to make some dinner and catch up on email. So now it's after 8 and I'm quite settled into my room for the night. We are taking a tour of the Gothic quarter tomorrow morning (architecture ahoy!) and I don't have the luxury of waking up as late as I have been these past few days. My goal is to go to bed by midnight, but I'm not sure that's going to happen. So obviously if I stay up late my body is going to want to sleep in later. I almost never slept past 9 or so in Boston (when I was on co-op for seven months I had to get up at 7:30 five days a week) but here I've been sleeping until 10 or 11.

The time difference makes it difficult because midnight is 6 o'clock in Boston and that's usually a good time to talk to friends. I haven't been able to go to bed when people are still around to chat online. It is like I wait all day to have a little conversation so I don't want to only give myself a taste of what I want.

My bed is very comfortable and sleep is a treasured escape from my current reality, as long as I don't remember my dreams. Last night I dreamt that for some unknown reason the program was cancelled and I found myself with the opportunity to leave Spain immediately or travel to my heart's content. For the first time I actually felt excited about having time to travel and felt so much better about only being away for a month or two. Obviously this isn't how things are going to play out. I'm not here only for pleasure.

As difficult and uncomfortable as it is, being here forces me to use my Spanish to be understood. I must've spent ten minutes around the corner from the ticket window trying to convince myself that I could buy a bus ticket successfully. I am so proud of myself for facing my fear and taking the chance. It was so much easier than I could've anticipated as my travel related vocabulary is pretty extensive. It also seemed that the woman behind the counter was speaking slower than normal because she could tell I wasn't a native speaker. That's all I really need, a slower pace of speech, and my comprehension improves dramatically. This experience makes me feel compassion for the people in the U.S. that are not 100% with their English. I am definitely going to have more patience with them in the future because I now know what it is like to struggle. I know some people in the U.S. have the attitude that as soon as you are in the country you should speak English and only English but they don't understand how intimidating that can be for a foreigner. It makes me nervous to think that a similar mindset is common here. I'm not sure if it is, but sometimes it feels like it-- that people don't think I belong here because my Spanish is rather deficient.

I have noticed that when I address people in Spanish they can tell from my (lack of) accent that I'm an English speaker and respond in English when they can. I've had to insist that they talk to me in Spanish, even though I've had to ask "Por favor de hablar más despacio" (please speak more slowly) a few times. People do tend to get impatient with me, but I need to keep at it. I need to get over my fear of being judged and do the things I need and want to do. For example, I need to send out some postcards but I've been hesitant to go to the post office to find out what stamps I need. I looked on the correos website but I am having trouble understanding the price table. I think I have time Thursday morning to tackle this task (it's my understanding that post offices, like banks, close in the early afternoon).

As my accomplishment list gets longer I will be more confident about making a real life here.

nikki

Someone Else's Pride and Food

2009-09-12T09:11:00.001-07:00

Last night I did end up going to the National Catalonia Day music festival. There were a lot of people with Catalonia flags draped around them like capes and hanging from poles that were constantly being waved around wildly. There were booths set up for people to sign petitions for Catalonia's independence and buy all sorts of Catalonia pride gear. The music was interesting, it was the first time that I saw a band live that wasn't singing in English. Most of the lyrics were in Catalan so I didn't understand what was going on, but the beats were interesting and there were so many people dancing around that you couldn't help but do some grooving of your own. However, I definitely felt like an outsider crashing a rally with serious significance to another culture. Some people here feel very strongly that Catalonia should be it's own country because of many differences between it and Spain as a whole. It surprised me that there could be such a peaceful celebration of Catalonia culture when there is such an undercurrent of dissatisfaction and anger at being under Spain's rule. The entire time I was in the crowd (about three hours) I was constantly worried that people were judging me for being there, that the redheaded white girl shouldn't be poking her nose in where she doesn't belong. I'm sure no one really cared, but it was the first time that I felt like everyone could see that I was a foreigner, I stood out for my appearance- something I can obviously not change. In the U.S. I have felt this way when gender has been important in a certain situation/place, but never because of my race. It's unsettling, and yet I am glad that I am having the experience of not looking like everyone else around me. It helps me appreciate what I take for granted back home.

After the concert I walked back to the residencia by myself because everyone was going their separate ways to different clubs and such. It was only a 15 minute walk back, but it was midnight and I was a little nervous. I kept my purse close and my head held high to look like I knew where I was going and had no fear at all. It made me miss the security I usually feel in Boston, the confidence that I know how to get myself out of a tough situation should something bad happen. The potential for an emergency is the main reason that I got a phone here. I don't like the thought of being stuck somewhere without a way to call for help.

All in all it wasn't a bad night, despite the fact that a group of us went out for tapas before the concert and there was barely any food. I had to pay 3.50 euros (about $5) when all I ate was a few small potato pieces and two crawfish. The concept of tapas is really weird to me here. People talk about it like it's one kind of food when really anything can qualify as a tapa as long as it's small enough to fit on a piece of bread. I am not on as strict of a budget as some people here, but I can't stand wasting money on food. I'm going to do some investigating and see what kinds of food are unique to Spain so I can have those experiences, but it is just not worth it to eat a restaurant all the time when you can go to a supermarket and put in a little effort to make something yourself.

However, I definitely wouldn't mind going to another tapa bar that has the buffet style like I did on my second day in Spain back it Sitges. There were at least ten different kinds of tapas and you could have as many as you wanted of whichever kind. The way they calculate the bill is to count the number of toothpicks on your plate after you have finished. (Each tapa pretty much needs a toothpick to keep the food from falling off the small piece of bread.) Obviously this system relies on honesty from the customer, as the first thing I though would be to pocket some of the toothpicks so you don't have to pay for everything you ate. I wonder if that's considered the same thing as shoplifting.

As the random thought of the day, does anyone know if there is such a thing as raw bread crumbs? Almost everything that is sold frozen in the supermarket comes with directions to be fried in a lot of oil. I'm lazy and not a fan of extra fat, so I like to defrost and heat things in the microwave. However, this food I made tonight had breadcrumbs on the outside that obviously were not cooked by the microwave and were a little chewy. I didn't mind the taste, I just wonder if it's somehow a bad idea to keep preparing the food like this. The cheese and meat inside was more than warm enough, but the outside just wasn't as I know it should be.

nikki

Try to Learn a Lesson

2009-09-11T05:45:00.000-07:00

Yesterday after class a bunch of us went to Park Guell which is where there are a lot of Gaudi architecture. It's a huge park on top of a ridiculously tall hill with great views of the city. I can't explain in words what the different statues looked like. The one house looked like a gingerbread house to me, I wanted to go up and lick the walls. It was great to go out and do something to explore the city, but I was really bothered by the fact that every twenty minutes or so I felt this strong urge to leave so I could go back to the residencia and get on Skype to talk to people from home. The day before had been extremely difficult and I hadn't been able to connect with anyone to talk about it, so by yesterday afternoon I was in dire need of a familiar listener. I did enjoy the outing, but I kept feeling pulled away, almost as if I was scared to have a good time. Now that I purchased a skype number and people can call me and leave messages, I hope that it will be easier to keep in touch. But I need to figure out how to make talking to people from home just one of the things I look forward to. Right now I do think it is helping, but if I remain reliant on this communication to keep going I'm never going to feel comfortable here. I just feel so mixed up. It takes a lot of effort to do things.

I came here to improve my Spanish but my class is really frustrating me. I have my midterm on Monday and I am stressing out very badly. I want to know this material. I want all of this to make sense. My Spanish sucks. How am I going to take classes in film, history and literature that are taught exclusively in Spanish? How am I going to be able to write papers in Spanish on academic subjects when it took me two and a half hours to write a 100 word biography of a famous person? Sometime this weekend I have to write a 200 word anecdote of something interesting that has happened to me and I know it is going to take forever. My goal was to complete it today, but it's already 3 o'clock and I just don't have the patience to sit down and focus right now. Today, September 11th, is National Catalonia Day so there are some pride events going on. Some people are going to a Catalan music festival this evening, so I'm making myself go because when else am I going to have the opportunity to listen to Catalan music live? I know I'll have a decent time and it will be better than sitting inside by myself. I have about three hours until I need to leave. Ideally I would complete my Spanish assignment, take a shower and feel energized to go enjoy an interesting night. I am going, but I just can't be excited for it yet. This whole experience thus far is really hard to categorize. There are some highs, but mostly a lot of really low lows. Slowly I am figuring out how to integrate the familiar into an unfamiliar existence, but I just don't know the pace at which I can realistically deal with change. One of my goals is to go to an intercambio meeting Tuesday night in which English speakers go to practice Spanish with native speakers, and then the Spanish speakers can practice their English with native speakers. It's a meeting outside of the program and I'll get to meet all sorts of new people of different ages and backgrounds. They meet twice a week every week so I know I have plenty of opportunities to go, but I can't keep saying I'll go next time. I'll need to push myself to go the first time, and then hopefully I'll like it and be able to fit it into my schedule to keep going and form some bonds with some locals.

I need to figure out what I want out of this experience. Nothing will happen if I don't put myself out there and take some risks. But where can I find some motivation? I need support, but no one is here that I trust to help me. No one here really knows me. I don't know me anymore. I am terrified at how much I am changing. I knew this would happen. I knew this would be a big transition in my life, but it all feels like I'm losing so much at once. I'm also gaining things. I know that, but I need to feel it as well. Right now I feel lost. I want to talk to people. I want to know that I'm not going crazy.

This morning I just kept sleeping, kept forcing myself to go into dreamland so I didn't have to deal with this reality. That's not the way to be. It's cheating myself out of an experience that I've been preparing for for a year and a half. I need to make this experience worth everything that I'm sacrificing.

Where can I find some joy? Where can I find some peace? I need to breathe. I need to live in the moment. One day at a time, hell one minute at a time if need be. I need to take control. I'm 22 years old. I am not a child. I have the power to decide for myself what I want my life to be. I am lucky to have this time before having the burden of being in the real world with consistent responsibilities. Right now I don't have to worry about maintaining a place of residence or employment. I have academic assignments, but I need to remember that I wanted this. I wanted to learn. I wanted to be challenged. If I knew Spanish well enough not to be struggling right now, I wouldn't be here.

I can do what I can do. I need to figure out how to take from classes what I want and just leave the rest, to stop worrying about what I can't do and focus on what is within my power. I am influential in my own life. I am responsible. I deserve this time for myself, to discover more about who I am. One day at a time. One minute at a time. One second at a time. I will get through this.

And yet I feel like a frog with abnormally short legs, straining to leap from lily pad to lily pad of security. I will make it. I will land. I will not drown.

It just scares me sometimes that I start to have these thoughts that no one would notice if I was gone, that people in Boston know I'm not around so if I never came back it wouldn't impact their lives. There are thoughts that I haven't had in a long time, thoughts that I never wanted to have again. They are irrational. People care about me. People love me. I am worthy and deserving and have a purpose in this life, no matter where I am in the world.

As if you couldn't tell, I'm really blunt and honest when I write. Please don't misread this as a cry for attention. I use writing to deal with my feelings and represent my contemplation of life. Maybe I shouldn't always let others see all of this, but sometimes it helps to have it all out in the open. Do with it what you will.

nikki

Oink oink.

2009-09-09T11:42:00.001-07:00

Can we dwell for a moment on the fact that sunblock in the pharmacy that is the same as the sunblock I buy in the U.S. costs $30? Granted, I am very light skinned so I use a high SPF sunblock and I prefer the spray to the lotion, but 30 freakin dollars???? Do they hand make it in a special factory on some unknown island and import it on sailboats? I found a less expensive sunblock in a supermarket, but I'm not convinced it will give me the protection I need. I guess I'll just have to wait and see. On to more important matters...

This morning we went on a field trip to an open air market on Las Ramblas, the main tourist street of Barcelona. The market pretty much had wall to wall people, but we had a little scavenger hunt to carry out and a lot of the other kids were able to weave their way in and out of foot traffic in order to compete fiercely. At first I did pretty well with the fruits and vegetables tasks. But then I entered the carneceria (carne = meat) and had to struggle to keep myself from dry heaving. There were all sorts of parts of different animals on display including organs and skulls. There were sheep heads that still had teeth attached! I didn't think I was so squeamish when it came to dead animals, but it affected me pretty badly. I understand that the philosophy of consuming the entire animal makes logical sense, as the argument against waste is a good one, but it still left me disgusted. I didn't judge the consumers for their taste, but wondered if I had been exposed to such things presented as food all my life if I could somehow still have the same distaste for it. Part of me says yes, given the existence of vegetarians that were exposed to meat as food and made the person decision not to consume it. But part of me thinks that accepting certain parts of animals as food and the concept of animal as food are very different. I saw a young kid, not older than 3, standing against the glass case at one of the meat stands, eye to eye with a dead pig. He was laughing and pointing at it, trying to get his father's attention. All I could think was "Is he asking what the piggy is doing in the case with his eyes closed, or is he indicating his preference for dinner tonight?" I won't ever get to know.

nikki