Barcelona (Oct 15 - Oct 17)

I've finally ventured outside the comunidad autonoma de Madrid!
 

Last week, I met up with a childhood friend in Barcelona for the weekend.  Clare and I met in 1st grade, but the summer after 4th grade my family moved to New Jersey, so we've kept in touch through letters ever since.  She just spent 3 months working at an NGO in India and decided to stop in Spain on her route back home to New York. 

The first thing I noticed when I landed in Barcelona was the difference in the minority demographic.  Is that weird?  Every time I land somewhere new, I notice the men holding flares who help the plane taxi into the terminal and that's usually a good indication of the working class in the city.  At LaGuardia they are almost always young Hispanic men, at Dulles they are African American men, and at Barcelona they were Eastern/Mediterranean men.  The signage in Catalan was another huge reality check.  I realized that I had landed in a place where I didn't understand the local language.  (Thank god for Castellano translations).  The hatred between Catalonia, Pais Vasco, and the rest of Spain is so illogical to me.  My roommates and their friends have been inculcated since birth to believe everything the Catalonians do is selfish, separatist, and crazy, while the Catalonians have been inculcated since birth to believe that they are not Spanish and should do everything in their power to distance themselves from the crazy country they are unfortunately a part of.  (Just imagine, the "states rights" groups of the South during the American Civil War to give you an idea of the logic here).

All regional identity crises aside, Barcelona is by far the prettiest city I've ever been to in my life.  Clare and I had picked out a few places we wanted to see over the course of the weekend, but left ample time for wandering and getting lost in the city.  Saturday morning, as we were leaving to go start our day with a visit to Gaudi's Sagrada Familia, I saw someone in the lobby of our hostel that looked freakishly like a co-worker/ friend of mine from back in NC.  I froze for a second, my brain internally combusted, as did his, and then we simultaneously started yelling "Oh my god! OH MY GOD" and hugging eachother in the lobby. WHAT ARE THE CHANCES that we'd be in the same city, in the same hostel, in the lobby at the same exact time?!?!?  I knew we were both in Western Europe, but last I had heard he was stuck in France because of the transportation strikes.  My brain could not even process how amazing it was.  That kind of stuff only happens on sitcoms and in movies!  We decided to reunite with him and his friend (aka most recent female conquest) the next day for a visit to Parc Guell and wherever else the day would take us.

La Sagrada Familia

Clare and I ate a great lunch on a bench outside La Sagrada Familia that consisted of a baguette, a pint of olives she had bought fresh at the market, a wheel of cheese from La Boqueria, and 2 Lemon Fantas (thank you Carlos Garcia for introducing me to the amazingness and superiority of Lemon Fanta).  After lunch, we went inside La Sagrada Familia and took the lift up to the top of one of its turrets.  The views of Barcelona were amazing and the walk back down was a great experience...20 minutes walking down the tighest spiral staircase I've ever seen.

Around dinner time, we turned a corner and came upon a Cuban Salsa band composed of old men wearing crisp white hats and jamming out for a sizeable crowd.  That made our dining decision pretty easy, and we sat down at the nearest tapas restaurant.  I'd say that was officially my best dinner in Spain so far.  We ordered a salad, roasted padrino peppers, an anchovy plate, and salchichas.  On our post-dinner walk, we ran into Cody and his friend AGAIN, so we all decided to head to a bar together.  We walked down La Rambla and took a picture at the very Spanish Monument a Colom to prove that we actually were together in Spain.

 



El Tumbao de Juana

On Sunday, the four of us ventured out to Parc Guell, which was actually a lot more beautiful than I expected it to be.  Movies don't do that place justice.  There were lots of vendors and street musicians in the park, but one band in particular was amazing!  Se llama El Tumbao de Juana, and they had the most amazing stage presence and animo.  They were playing in a park but had somehow managed to turn their little dirt patch into a stage with nothing more than their instruments and their spirit.  Clare and I decided to split the cost of their demo, so I could import the songs to my Itunes and she could take home the physical CD.  The only bad thing I'd have to say about the park was that it was way too full of tourists (bad decision to visit it on a Sunday I suppose), and I was wearing shoes that almost immediately gave me blisters.  That's what I guess for buying a pair of flats for 6 Euro.  I don't care though because I had a good conversation with the salesman.  He tried to guess where I was from, "Australia? Suisa? Inglaterra?" before I told him I was from the U.S. Then we proceeded to have a conversation about Maryland because he had lived there for 3 months about five years ago, but was deported for not having any papers.  Unfortunate, right? C'est la vie. 

All in all, Barcelona, you were good to me. And Cody?  Well, he'll probably show up on my doorstep in a few months once his stint working on an olive farm in the south of Spain finishes up. I'm thinking a Chapel Hill Whole Foods reunion is in the near future. 

Ay Dios Mio!

Exactly a month has passed since I arrived in Spain! Ay Dios mio! Some observations I've made include the following:

1. Spanish road rage is probably one of the funniest things I've seen here so far.  Maybe its more endearing to me because its in a foriegn language, and its usually middle aged ladies getting themselves in a hot mess.

2. Pedestrians are always given the right of way in Arroyomolinos, and almost always given the right of way in Madrid and Barcelona.  Its makes me feel safer when I walk the streets here.

3.  I can spot an American before they even open their mouths.  Its something about the way they dress, look, and walk.  Then, when they unfortunately open their mouths, I want to bury my face in my jacket for shame of originating from the same country as these beasts.  Now I know why I got so many weird stares when I first arrived in Arroyomolinos. 

4.  From what I can tell, the most important things to most Spaniards seem to be :  family, futbol, food, good conversation and companionship, and fashion....in that order.

One of my favorite experiences here so far was a Saturday when I decided to go out with some other auxiliares and their madrileño friends.  We met up around midnight to talk and have drinks at Carlos' place and then headed out to the bar "Mañana No Salgo."  The music was horrible.  It was techno, unidentifiable slow jams, and.....wait for it....techno remixes of the Ghostbusters and the Neverending Story themes.  It closed at 3am...lame, so we made our way over to the discoteca "Nell."  That place was definitely more my taste.  It was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with twenty- and thirty-somethings and had the kind of nonsensical music that I'd never listen to on my own (but love to dance to).  Sharon and I made the epic journey to the bathroom and realized every girl in there looked like Gisele Bundchen or Mónica Cruz. 

We got back to Carlos' apartment around 5:30am and went to sleep.  I awoke around 12:30 in the afternoon on Sunday, absolutely starving.  I waited about 30 minutes in that awkward limbo when you're awake, your friends are still out cold, and you're contemplating how much you want breakfast.  I decided to drop a note on Sharon's purse and head out for some grub.  I made my way down a side street near Sol, plopped myself down in a cafe, and when the waitress came over tried to order off the "before noon" breakfast menu.  Being too much of a zombie to make an adult decision, I ordered a café con leche and then said, "Oy....que me recomienda?" Without missing a beat, she replied with "una tostada" as if she was my mom and was going to bring it to me whether I wanted it or not.  I happily agreed, and when it arrived.....it was the best toast, jam, and butter that I could've imagined.  My grandpa DePalo still holds the title for "Best Toast in the World" but I have a feeling Spain's tostadas might take the crown at some point this year.

Laundry List

Here is a list of all the things I'm constantly thinking about having to do:

1. Receive my GD visa in the mail....Donde esta???
2. Buy a plane ticket from Raleigh to Madrid.
3. Buy a plane ticket from Madrid to Barcelona for my lovely October meet-up with the amazing Clare Wolfe.
4. Straightening out banking/money matters with Wachovia before I leave, so I can withdraw money overseas for the first few weeks.
5. Successfully arriving in Europe (for the first time in my life), navigating the subway system with my luggage, and getting to a hostel.
6. Moving into a piso.
7. Applying for my NIE (Foreigner's Residency Number) as soon as possible, so I can do #8.
8. Open a Spanish bank account.
9. Get a Spanish cell phone.
10. Visit my colegio before the first day of work to introduce myself / familiarize myself with the school.
11. Not forgetting to eat....I tend to do that when I'm busy and traveling.