Goodbye Barcelona

Gràcies per tot. It's been quite a semester.

Bedtime stories

Less than a week to go — it's so hard to believe. Tomorrow is our farewell dinner, which seemed so distant when I saw it in my planner.

Yesterday I had my last official day at Mar Bella. The kids have actually made a ton of progress in their English this semester. In October, I was doing interview questions with the advanced sixth graders, and now even the fifth graders can tell me where they live and what their hobbies are.

Spanish kids get two weeks of vacation for the holidays and the pre-vacation jitters have definitely settled in. The school is covered in decorations — every inch of the hallways is covered in paper Christmas trees and paper mache ornaments. I love how unapologetically Christmasy Spain is. Don't get me wrong — I am the most obnoxious Hanukkah promoter (I write this as my baguette menorah burns on the kitchen table), but there's something very magical about the unhampered Christmas spirit. The entire city looks BEAUTIFUL (pics coming soon).

After leaving the school yesterday, I walked home (normally I take the bus). I was actually enjoying the fact that I needed a coat and gloves. I happened upon a Dunkin' Coffee and I decided that it was the perfect antidote for studying for finals. The woman looked at me like I was nuts when I ordered an iced coffee, but it was so perfect.

Today was my last trip on the ferrocarril out to UAB. It was an anti-climactic ending (classes continue through next week, we're just not going), but I had a personal celebratory lunch in the cafeteria and waved goodbye to the campus as the train pulled away. Tomorrow morning is my social theory final (yes parents, I am about to go to bed) and then I am all done! (Minus the papers I'm emailing in in January.) I'm excited to have the last few days to run around Barcelona, revisit my favorite places and cross off the few remaining items on my to-do list.

Cute story of the day before I get into bed: This afternoon as I was returning to Onix, three girls stopped me in the hallway. They asked if I spoke English (they were Spanish) and when I said yes, they asked if they could "make an interview." (It was an assignment for their English class.) I said of course and invited them into my room. Using a tape recorder, they asked my name, where I'm from, etc. It was a funny change of events because I'm so used to walking around the city and being the inquirer. They asked my opinion of the mediterranean diet (positive) and what things I missed from my country. Put on the spot, I said the first two things that popped into my head: large cups of coffee and functioning dryers (we've been using a clothesline all semester).

So that's where you'll find me pretty soon: drinking copious amounts of iced coffee and doing my laundry.

This makes me feel a lot more prepared.

The other day, one of the other students in Contemporary Political Institutions sent a message to the entire class.

Hola Compañeros!!!!!

Me llamo Esti y soy alumna de segundo. Estoy matriculada a la asignatura de Polítiques con John, pero por motivos de horario no he podido asistir a ninguna de sus clases. Si alguna fuera tan amable de decirme como va este año la asignatura, si hay que entregar el trabajo, como será el examen, si teneis apuntes o el examen es en base a las lecturas.... yo a cambio os puedo pasar cosillas que necesiteis.

Gracias!!!!!!!!!

Roughly translated, his message reads:

Hello classmates!!!!!

My name is Esti and I'm a second-yeat student. I'm enrolled in the section of "Politics" with John, but for scheduling reasons I haven't been able to attend any of the classes. If anyone would be so kind as to tell me how things are going in the class this year, if you have had to hand in any work, what the exam is going to be like, if you take notes or if the exam is going to be based on readings…. I can return the favor with things you need.

Thanks!!!!!!!!!

This would so not fly at Brown.

Well that was embarrassing...

Even in Spain, American Christmas music seems to take over every public venue — cafés, supermarkets, the accordion players on the Metro. As a result, my Catalan first graders, who barely know how to introduce themselves in English, know all the words to "We Wish You a Merry Christmas." This morning as we were making Christmas-tree-shaped cards, the class started an impromptu sing-along. After their mini performance, they asked if I would sing it (accompanied by one of the more fluent girls, Laia).

But as we left the chorus and progressed into the actual words of the song, I drew a total blank, while she kept going. I just smiled and laughed — I decided it was easier than explaining that I'm a Jewish girl from Long Island.

Happy Hanukkah!

Last night marked the final installment of Emmy-and-Katie-play-Jewish-mothers. In honor of the first night of Hanukkah, we spent the day cooking and preparing our best attempts at a legitimate holiday meal. Though pictures of our kitchens never made it to the blog (maybe it'll happen before I move out), you need to be forewarned that we have no oven, minimal counter space and a tiny stove with two burners. So we knew it was going to be an adventure. Luckily we live down the hall, which made for some interesting runs back-and-forth, cutting boards and sizzling pans in hand.

It only took 6 hours, 4 trips to the supermarket, 8 pots and pans, about 15 plates and 1 kitchen injury, but we did it! Our feast included: latkes, sweet potato latkes, homemade apple sauce, turkey meatballs, challah rolls, broccoli and cauliflower, a vegetable frittata, salad and apple fritters (thank you to our favorite dessert chef). We played dreidel and showed the Rugrat's Hanukkah special (educating the gentiles).

Though we couldn't easily find a menorah, we pulled out our best creativity skills and constructed our own using a baguette and birthday candles. When in Spain…

Even Old New York was once New Amsterdam

The only problem with retrospective blog posting is that the amusing stories get forgotten. Never fear — more moments from Istanbul!

• The first night at our hostel, we made friends with one of the Turkish guys working there while waiting for the promised belly dancing show (it didn't happen). He asked where we were from and when two of us responded New York, he said, "Oh! I'm going to Harlem soon." We asked why. He answered, "Because sometimes I feel black."

• We made friends with another Turk while on our boat ride from Asia back to Europe. When we introduced ourselves and I said my name was Emmy, he asked, "Like the Emmy Award?" Glad to know my spelling reference is international.

• Courtesy of Time Out Istanbul, we found ourselves at a very legit and very authentically Turkish restaurant filled with locals. The waiter came over (quickly realized we were foreigners) and simply asked, "liver, lamb or chicken?" After we each answered, he pointed back at each of us, repeated the orders back, and when he figured out that he had gotten it right, he yelled "Yes!" (in a style reminiscent of Borat). He came back for drink orders and again, we got the "Yes!" Suddenly plates were delivered to the table — vegetables, leaves, sauces, pita bread. And then long skewers filled with meat were plopped in front of each of us and we got to work! We managed to make it through the meal without too much messiness.

• Because we're so used to eating dinner at 10 pm (and had to adjust), we wound up with some free time. So we found a movie theater showing films in English and sat down to for the apocalyptic 2012. Midway through the movie, the lights suddenly came on. We thought it was a technical error — turns out it was just the intermission. It gave us a good opportunity to discuss what we'd seen so far.

Turkish delight on a moonlit night

Ok, so we did spend the entire trip singing this song. But we did stil manage to see and experience all of Istanbul.

We arrived on Friday night and after a techno-filled 80 mph shuttle van ride, arrived at our hostel. We stayed in Sultanhamet, arguably the most touristy part of the city. Istanbul is enormous and home to almost 3,000 mosques, though the most famous are clustered in one area.

We checked out the area briefly, but went to bed pretty

early in order to prepare ourselves for our sightseeing blitz.

We started Saturday at the Blue Mosque (also known as the

Sultanhamet Mosque). Depending on the time of day, it really does look blue. Its other noteworthy feature is that it has six minarets, as opposed to the typical two or four. Compared to the cities I've been visiting in Western Europe all semester, with their Gothic churches and Roman architecture, this looked other

worldly. The mosque is enormous, but was built in only seven years.

(Comparatively, Barcelona hasn't even finished its famous

cathedral.)

After the Blue Mosque, we walked across the street to an even larger structure: The Ayasofya. Originally the Hagia Sophia church of Constantinople, it became the Ayasofya Mosque after the fall of the Ottoman Empire. Now it's just a museum, but signs of both religions are very present throughout the entire building.

Strange note: Istanbul is filled with an extraordinary number of stray cats and we saw an unbelievable number of them inside both

landmarks. Tourists were happy to take their picture though.

We concluded the epic morning with a visit to the cisterns.

Once upon a time, the underground water supply was used by the entire city. When it's functionality became obsolete, someone had the brilliant idea to turn it into a basilica. Talk about creepy.

After a stop for some döner and baklava, we headed for the harbor.

On the way, we made a pit stop at the Egyptian Spice Bazaar, which is filled with (like the name implies) spices. Each stall also features its own unique variety of Turkish delight.

My only reference for the treat is its appearance in The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe, so we had to try some. It tastes vaguely like a marshmallow, though the chewiness quotient depends on the flavor. The verdict is that I'm ambiguous. We did, however, encounter innumerable types of nuts and dried fruit, so I was pretty happy.

Snacks in hand, we took the ferry to Asia. There really isn't much on the Asian side of the city (if anything, it's a lot less touristy), but we wanted to at least say that we set foot on two continents in one day. We explored the area surrounding one of the ferry stops, and then started to make our way to the other harbor. We asked for directions in a bookstore and they advised us to take either a bus or a dolmus, a group taxi. I had read about the dolmus and so knew they were totally safe (and probably a better idea than normal cabs, which require a little haggling). The bus didn't seem to be coming any time soon, and the taxis were going directly from one harbor to the other, so the four of us piled in (claiming the back row).

It wasn't entirely clear how one was supposed to pay, or WHAT one was supposed to pay, so the other passengers helped us out. It also wasn't exactly clear when one was supposed to exit the taxi. The driver would open the sliding door, people would hop out, and that was that. We figured we'd know when to get out. Not so much. After driving around for a minute with the door open and us still in the taxi, the driver yelled "GET OUT." So we did. Onto an island in the middle of traffic. The other dolmus drivers seemed pretty amused by us.

We made it back to Europe safe and sound.

On Sunday, the weather was a little bit of a deterrent, but we were still able to visit the enormous Topkapi Palace. On our way, we stopped for simit — a food item sold on the streets for a dollar that looks and tastes an awful lot like a sesame bagel. On the palace grounds are multiple prayer areas, ramps so the sultan can be carried and an entire building for swords and jewels. The old royal garments were also displayed and we were in shock over how large they were. I guess the ramps and the delicious Ottoman cuisine might be explanations.

Speaking of cuisine, we became very well acquainted with baklava while on our trip. In particular, with one particular shop (we managed to visit multiple branches). The shopkeeper was so impressed by our group dynamic (one boy to three girls) that he insisted on taking a picture with the three of us. We suspect it may be up on their wall pretty soon. Jeremy got a lot of street cred for traveling with us — he got called a Sultan and was asked by a restaurant proprietor if he could have one of us. The catcalls — though more verbal than Barcelona's "hola guapa" — didn't really feel all that threatening. They really were just amusing. Restaurant managers will say anything to try and get you to sit down. Though the non-creative opt for the "Yes please, yes please," notable solicitations we got included: "You're so beautiful you can't be real," "You're so beautiful but you would look even nicer at my table," and a rousing rendition of "Don't you wish your boyfriend was hot like me?"

We encountered the greatest amount of haggling and catcalling during our all-day visit to the Grand Bazaar on Monday. Home to over 4,000 stalls (plus countless street stalls outside), it makes for one of the more intense shopping experiences I've ever had. We bargained with the best of them. One merchant even thought I was Turkish, but figured out that was not the case when I didn't respond to his comments. (We had already concluded I was the most Turkish looking of the group, but that's really not saying much.) Scarves, pottery, earrings, tea glasses, leather coats and fez in hand, we emerged hours later (an exit caused largely by the collective lack of funds).

We left Istanbul at the alarming hour of 3 am on Tuesday (6:30 am flight, but infrequently running shuttles). However, we were flying real airlines (a nice change from Vueling and Ryannair), so there was a lot of coffee to help us make it through. The trip was unbelievable, but now I have to return to the grind. Two weeks and counting, and a whole semester's worth of course work to reteach myself before then. Yikes!

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Also, if you made it this far (I admittedly just wrote a brief novel) and still want more to read, check this out. 120: You are beautiful. I cannot wait for January.

NONCLERICAL CLANDESTINE COMRADES

Barcelona's been getting in the holiday spirit for weeks — the streets are filled with decorations and Onix is tastefully lit — but tonight we took it one step further. After some intense Google research (thank you Boogspace.com) and mild harassment of the CASBers, our very own secular secret Santa has been launched. Stay tuned as the mystery unfolds...

My, how the time flies

It's really hard to believe, but today marks the T-3 weeks countdown. It's not as though I feel like we got here yesterday, but it still feels strange to be nearing the end. It's also weird because suddenly, we have serious homework. Most of our classes boil down to one final — mine count for 40, 50, 80 and 100 percent of my grades — and so crunch time is no joke. On the other hand, now is the time when I feel like I should be taking in as much Barcelona as possible. To reconcile these two conflicting needs, I've been trying to find cafes with Internet and other creative solutions. What's nice is that even though doom is looming, I have five full days after my finals end and before I have to leave. I already have a list going of all the things I want to try and cram in. (Suggestions are welcome!)

But first I have my final travel hurrah — also my longest, farthest and most exotic trip. Both Sunday and Tuesday are holidays, so Monday is counted as the puente, or bridge, so we have a full five days to travel. I'm heading east to Istanbul, where I'll get to be on two continents at once (not to mention four countries in five days (we have connecting flights, I'll argue that counts)). In the attempts of making a political statement of some sort, the Barcelona Public Library filed the "Turquia" travel books in the Asia section PLUS I get my first passport stamp of the semester. I think I can say with some authority that this trip will be quite different than any of my others this semester.

ALSO...

...how can it POSSIBLY be December already?

Let our people go!

UAB is consistently covered in posters and spray painting, usually protesting anything and everything. As standing up for your rights tends to go hand in hand with the local anarchist spirit, most of the signs are in Catalan, limiting my understanding of what exactly is being objected to. One thing we see all the time though are signs arguing against "Bolonya." (Which translates to mean the Italian city of Bologna.)

After doing some research into what this meant (Paige blogged about it a while ago), we unearthed a massive European educational controversy. The Bologna Model refers to the method of schooling most similar to what we're accustomed to: standardized material with frequent assessments. In some of my classes here, the only work I have the entire semester is the final exam. (You're allowed to retake it if you fail, in most cases. Under Bologna this would not be true.) Though Bologna is not an EU initiative, most EU countries are signed on (including Spain), and the idea is that credits will transfer more smoothly from country to country (and just generally make more sense when people cross borders).

At the schools we're attending, only some classes have started to Bologna-ize. (A few of my friends have the lucky opportunity to take midterms and do homework assignments.) As you might imagine, the Spanish students are furious. The sidewalks of UAB are covered in graffiti and it's not unusual to hear someone yell something about "Bolonya" at a random moment.

Today in my Contemporary Political Institutions class (this is where I get most educated about Spanish educational practices), the professor opened class by acknowledging Thursday's potential strike. The students are unhappy with the changes occurring around them, so of course they strike! He said he was planning to still hold class, but would put it to a vote, so that way the few students who showed up wouldn't be punished. (Thank you!) Obviously the class voted to cancel class. But not just so they can take the afternoon off — they all started yelling about marching and protesting and making sure the Spanish government (who run UAB) knows how they feel.

I'm not entirely sure I agree with my classmates, but God bless them for trying...

Bonjour mon ami!

This year, I got to celebrate Thanksgiving overlooking the Seine with a side of French bread. Not too shabby.

I met my cousins in Paris on Thursday and enjoyed a delicious (and very legitimate, thanks to my aunt's cranberry imports and fantastic cooking) dinner. Everyone around us may have been speaking French and the only parades we saw were museum workers on strike (seriously), but we still enjoyed all the American classics.

We spent Friday at Versailles, exploring the decadent bedrooms, the unbelievable Hall of Mirrors and the sprawling gardens. Everything just felt so French. (Yet another language barrier could have been a part of that. However, my conversational Catalan was actually helpful. I'm debating if I should list it as a "Skill" on my resume.)

On Saturday we made our way through the gigantic Musee D'Orsay, focusing on the Impressionist wings (my favorite part). It would have been impossible to see everything — the converted train station is filled with five floors worth of art. We were lucky that we could even go into the museum — one of the other major attractions (Centre Pompidou) was striking, and rumor has it that all the other museums will be too.

We braved the elements and hit the pavement to stroll the Parisian streets (and admire all of the beautiful stores). The window displays even look prettier in France.

It was a brief trip, but I had a great time — and considering I wasn't stateside, it was really nice to be with family for Turkey Day.

I made it back to Barcelona just in time for "El Clasico" — the epic fútbol match-up between FC Barcelona and Real Madrid. We started scoping out a place to watch at 6 or so (game time was 7) and found every bar, restaurant and cafe in the city to be PACKED. Apparently no one watches from home. We managed to squeeze our way into the pizza place across the street and watched Barca eke out a 1-0 win (despite a ton of violence from both sides).

Today at Mar Bella, almost every single one of my kids had on a Barcelona jersey — just in case there was any question about whose side they were on.

Happy Turkey Day!

It was strange yesterday when I was giving a presentation to the kids at Mar Bella, asked if they knew what holiday tomorrow was, and looked out onto a crowd of blank stares. I suddenly realized that Thanksgiving really was today and that I had seen no turkeys on display or commercials for the parade. I'm lucky that I still get to celebrate the day with family — I'm in the airport now, about to jet off to Paris — but it's definitely srtange to be outside the states today, and to not be having the same Thanksgiving dinner I've had for years.

On the plus side: traveling here has been incredibly easy.

This week in food

On Monday, I got to participate in a taller de cocina — a cooking class — which was delicious, enlightening and full of adventures. In groups, we helped to prepare each course. Feeling eager to participate, I volunteered to help with the crema catalana, which despite being dessert, was the first thing we worked on. My task was to separate eight eggs. Psh, easy...

ORR not. The first one was a total failure. I had to have Paige vouch for the fact that she has seen me make egg-white omelets innumerable times. Making fun of me, Ignacio, our chef instructor, tried to teach me a weird trick that involved putting my fingers into the egg. Needless to say, when professional chefs make something look easy — it's not.

Other notable moments included a huge soup spill on the counter, and Ignacio's subsequent recovery of the soup using a giant knife.

Our finished dinner included: pan con tomate, gazpacho garnished with a homemade pesto, tortilla española, chicken paella, and the crema catalana. Right before dessert was served, I got to take a blow torch to half of the cremas in order to caramelize the sugar. I want one for my birthday.

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In other food news, today at Mar Bella I gave the Catalan children a presentation about Thanksgiving. Other than little clips from movies, none of them (5th and 6th graders) knew anything about the holiday. Explaining the Pilgrims to a group of kids who (a) know nothing about American history and (b) speak limited English is ... challenging. We trudged through and made it to the pictures of food. At the end of the presentation, one of my sixth graders came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder. "I'm hungry, and it's your fault." At least food is a language we all speak...

Dali-ing around the coast

Salvador Dali was — without a doubt — out of his mind. If your Dali background is as minimal as mine was prior to this weekend, I highly recommend the Wikipedia article.

Our trip this weekend — the final one in the Spanish art series — followed la ruta de Dali. Basically we drove up the coast (heading back to the Costa Brava) to explore what is known as Dali's triangle.

First stop on Saturday was his house, Port Lligat, in Cadaques. Nestled in a beautiful Mediterranean cove, the house is filled with ... eccentricities. Stuffed animals abound, as to strange fetishy toys. The mannequins are disturbing (and still in perfect pose). The majority of the objects were either gifts or Dali hand-made originals — and all of it's weird.

After spending the afternoon in the beautiful (albeit very seasonal) town of Cadaques, we drove to Figueres, home of the Dali Teatre-Museum. Meant to be theatrical, dramatic and interactive, the museum was built by Dali himself. With no logical organization, the building contains rooms shaped like faces, an alarming number of phallic objects and among other interesting works, a nude that looks like Abraham Lincoln from the right angle. The building is decorated in giant eggs and houses Dali's crypt. We paid our respects.

On Sunday, we left the surreal and took in the medieval. When Dali was young, he fell in love with an older, married woman — Gala. Ultimately the two married, though their relationship seems a little suspect. He worshipped her and painted her over and over (calling her his muse), but the two had separate beds and she had a string of younger gigolos. At some point toward the end of her life, she made it known that she wanted a medieval castle of her very own. So Dali bought her one and made it very clear that it was her castle. She would live there and he would only visit if invited, which apparently only happened twice. After Gala died (and was buried in the basement), Dali moved into the castle at Púbol full time and carried out the rest of his life (and work) from there.

Call it genius, call it insanity. Either way, it was extremely entertaining.

A morning of culture

This morning, Paige and I took our ArtTickets (get into Barcelona's seven best museums for €22) and went to the Centre de Cultura Contemporània de Barcelona (CCCB). The museum — an incredibly cool space — is comprised of a couple rotating exhibitions, rather than any sort of permanent collection.

First up were the winners of the 2009 World Press Photo contests. The photos were captioned in Spanish and Catalan, but the museum offered huge binders filled with English explanations. Paige and I accidentally started at the end of the exhibit (it went in a circle), so we read our books from left to right.

The other exhibit we had been excited about seeing for a while: Cerdà and the Barcelona of the Future. This year, Barcelona is celebrating the "Any Cerdà" — the 150th anniversary of Ildefons Cerdà's master plan to build L'Eixample, the part of the city we live in.

Once upon a time, Barcelona was a tiny egg-shaped city encased by walls (murallas). The city reached a point where it simply could not fit within its boundaries anymore (1859) and held a contest to design the expansion (which is what L'Eixample literally means). Cerdà came up with a plan to turn the agricultural plots surrounding Barcelona into perfectly gridded city streets.

150 years later, L'Eixample, with its square blocks and bevelled corners (vocabulary word of the day), is every bit as Cerdà intended.

The city government (el Ayuntamiento) is sponsoring exhibits all over Barcelona this year, so hopefully I'll get to see some more.

Now we're off to the Costa Brava to follow La Ruta de Dali. We're going to see Dali's museum and house and learn all about exactly how insane he was. (So far we've discovered he had a sexual fascination with lobsters, or something along those lines.) It's the first time in a while the whole Consortium is doing something together, so it should be really fun.

News Digest

This weekend, Chaz came to visit Barcelona. He was here on vacation pretty recently though, so Paige dubbed him a "bad visitor" — he'd seen pretty much all of the sights already. But that gave me a chance to show off all the hidden gems of Barca that I've found: the unbelievably menu del día, the fun walking routes, other top eating destinations. We went to the MACBA and saw a couple cool exhibits (including one of a collage artist who used to live in Locust Valley!).

We also went to the Fonts de Montjuic — a magical fountain show that plays muisc in synch with a fantastical light show. I've heard rumors that the Bellagio's show in Las Vegas was inspired by the one on Montjuic. The music changes with every show (four a night) — we got to see classical opera and 2000s era American pop music. Apparently there's a rocking Disney-themed performance, but I have yet to see it.

Yesterday I spent the morning at Mar Bella, as per usual. With the sixth graders, I've been doing interviews to help them practice asking and answering questions. They've gotten bored asked where I live and how old I am; yesterday we moved onto how much I weigh, whether or not I'm married, and if I can drive a helicopter.

In other news, it's still about 70 degrees in Barcelona, and it shows no signs of becoming winter. Ever. On the plus side, using a resource found by one of my friends, now I can figure out how to appropriately dress for this mild climate.

For the win.

Just located: Beautiful bookstore, adorable cafe, free wireless. Take that College Hill Cafe.

Duly noted.

Today in International Relations, we had to hand in a group project. We'd put ourselves into cohorts of four or five — our group was comprised entirely of CASBers — and written 10-page research papers. Ours came together over the last 48 hours and wound up, in our opinions, looking beautiful. We went to hand in our glossy document — and noticed we were the only ones not to have bound our reports into spectacular little books.

Not surprising — Spanish kids are shockingly and unbelievably meticulous about their note taking. Using unlined paper, at least three different color pens, and a highlighter or two, they write down everything and the end product is a borderline work of art. The notes are then stored in these intricate binder/folders until the next day.

All semester, I've been eying the kids' notes, plotting how I could ask to copy them. Every day I said to myself, "Ok Emmy. Today you ask. Today you ask." I had narrowed it down to a couple kids in my Contemporary Political Institutions class, and watched them all take their notes daily, but never managed to get up the nerve.

But today, today! I did it. Today I brought my flash drive over to the girl who takes notes on her computer (a rarity here), and said, "Hola — I'm the American student, and sometimes I don't understand everything the professor says. Do you think I could see your notes?" And without even hesitating, she took my bright green USB, plugged it into her computer, and handed it right back. All semester I had been getting freaked out about THIS?

Computer back in my possession? Check. Legitimate Spanish notes? Check. Great weekend plans? (ChazinSweden is visiting!) Check!

This would never happen in the SciLi.

As Paige accounted on her blog, Residencia Onix suffered a severe Internet outage this evening. We chose to relocate to the public library. A few minutes ago, rock/techno music began playing at FULL volume. (The librarian is loving it.) Apparently, this is their way of letting us know that the building will be closing in 10 minutes.

Lisbon!

Barcelona considers the 1992 Olympics to be the turning point for the city, Bilbao attributes its Renaissance to the 1999 construction of the Guggenheim, and Lisbon points to its 1755 earthquake as the start of its "modernization." It's no surprise then, that the city feels infinitely older than Barca — the narrow, cobblestoned streets snake their way up the city's hills, and if you don't feel like walking, there's always the rickety old trams.

We only had 36 hours or so in Portugal's capital city, but we really did get to see everything.

After arriving on Friday evening, not long after we left Barcelona (strangely, the two countries are in different time zones), we set out to find food (Portuguese favorites include meat, cod and potatoes) and check out the nightlife. Unlike Barcelona, Lisbon seems to have very few tourists — particularly not English speaking ones — so we felt like we were getting a much more authentic and local feel. The bars of Lisbon are all concentrated in Bairro Alto, one of the city's many neighborhoods. Lisboans fill the streets and mingle — all drinks are served in plastic cups, and you're encouraged to wander. We managed to find a beautiful little bar with pretty paintings all over the walls, where Portuguese guitar music was being played. We could understand some Portuguese in writing, but spoken — forget about it. The accent is completely different than Spanish, with some Arabic undertones. We were warned not to speak Spanish while in Lisbon. Apparently, they find it offensive, and prefer trying to decipher our English.

On Saturday we took the historic tram #28 up the hills of Graça to the feira ladro (flea market, literally translated to mean "thieves' market." For probably 15 blocks, every inch of ground space was covered, with everything from scarves and jewelery to phone chargers and broken Barbie dolls.

We explored the market for a while, before setting off to find the Castelo São Jorge. For a castle, it was shockingly hard to find. We walked up and down hills and stairs before finally encountering the 11th-century structure. The castle itself was pretty standard as far as Moorish fortresses go, but the views were absolutely incredible.

On Sunday we took tram #15 to Belém, an outer district of the city. This tram was a little more modern and looked like a bus. It was a little less obvious as to how to pay, and so we unintentionally rode the tram for free (this is not the first time something along these lines has happened to me).

Our first stop was Cafe Pastéis de Belém, a bakery famous since it opened in 1837. The Portuguese have as many pastelerias as Spain has tapas bars, and they take great pride in their unique creations. Prior to this trip, my only exposure to anything Portuguese had been Silver Star, the bakery in Providence, so this was a learning experience. Plus, since we really couldn't communicate all that easily, we did a lot of pointing and blind tasting. I think we did ok.

In Belém, we checked out the famous monastery (Mosteiro dos Jerónimos), the modern culture center/museum (where we saw sculptures made entirely of plastic silverware) and the Monument to the Discoverers. A couple of our friends from the Bay Area had compared Lisbon to San Francisco — there's a bridge almost identical to the Golden Gate, the streets are hilly and filled with trams, and like San Fran, the weather is a bit misty and unpredictable. Sunday was sunny with a side of occasional drizzle. We didn't let that hamper our exploration too much though.

Exploring the other side of the peninsula

In just a few minutes, I'm heading to the airport with Katie and Abby to check out Lisbon for the weekend. I have no idea what to expect, but we're the third CASB contingent to head west in three weeks, and we've heard rave reviews. Plus we get to try out yet another Spanish-ish sounding language...

Until Monday -

Just got a text message from Microgestio that my computer "está reparado."

technology WIN.

Feeling smart, but representing the dumb

In my contemporary political institutions class (the one where I am the token americana), I spend a lot of time confused. I get about 85% of the concepts, about 75% of the vocab, and am really good at reading over peoples´shoulders, so usually I can pull it together (sort of) - it just takes a lot of work.

Today I found myself getting somewhat of a free pass - we were learning about regimenes presidenciales with the US as the key example. WIN! Here´s why studying to an absurd degree for the "American Presidency" last spring paid off! It secretly felt great to watch the Spanish kids struggling with names and concepts for once while I happily took notes and nodded along with the facts.

The class is taught from a different angle than the American politics and history classes I´ve taken all my life - the professor is British and the kids are Spanish, so you gotta figure the slant goes the other way - but the facts obviously don´t change. What´s always enlightening for me though is the question and answer period, when I get to see the political culture I view as the norm questioned.

The Kyoto Treaty was brought up to illustrate separation of powers (signing v ratifying treaties), and the class dissolved into whispers over the absurdity of this. I´ve already witnessed the same group rail on the United States´ handling of conservation and global warming. George Bush and the "War and Terror" were regarded with raised eyebrows and accusatory comments. Just this morning in my IR class, the somewhat volatile lecture hall (there are public fights daily) went nuts over the war in Iraq and American justifications. In all four of my classes (despite the fact that some of them seem to bear on completely unrelated topics), we´ve had long discussions about health care and the US´s failings.

I know I´m lucky to be studying abroad now, as opposed to two years ago - (One of our directors, Teresa, told me that toward the end of the Bush presidency, it got really bad for study abroad kids) - and the truth is that overall, the Spaniards feel pretty positively toward us.

I wouldn´t say Spanish people necessarily have the highest view of their own political system - I got lectured by a cab driver once about how awful the government is - but on the issues that matter to the kids in my class, they seem to be doing a better job.

My Girona

This weekend, I headed up the coast to explore the town of Girona with Katie, her mom and her mom´s roommate from Brown, Kerri. (They coincidentally lived in my old room once upon a time - what up Caswell 205.)

Girona is celebrating the Festival de Sant Narcis for the next two weeks, honoring the city´s patron saint (who is apparently the Saint of Flies). In honor of the festival, the streets were lined with art vendors and outdoor entertainment. Because they seem to be compulsory in every Catalan festival, Girona had their very own castellers. We watched the 30-person tower be built from the cathedral´s tall steps - it was a bit alarming to be on eye level with the five-year-old shimmying up the human tower. The most intense part came when the 5-person tower they built afterwards literally ran up the 90 or so steps to the top of the cathedral. When I finally regain access to my computer, I have some pretty intense videos of the event.

I always joke that on family vacations, the Lisses do two things: find the Jewish quarter and find the best bakery. I think I did the fam proud in Girona. The city is home to one of the best preserved Jewish quarters in Spain, so we explored the area and its pretty museum. Not-so-surprisingly, every synagogue or cultural center closed in 1492. In honor of the festival, the city´s bakeries and cheese shops took to the streets, offering free samples from their stalls (yum). Sunday was also Dia de Todos los Santos in Spain, which is traditionally celebrated by eating panellets.

We also got to see the parade of the gigantes, which was something I was sad to have missed during Mercè. Troupes from throughout the region bring their 15-foot paper mache people (which real people fit inside) and parade through the streets, playing music and dancing. The giants are unbelievably detailed and the participants ranged from infants to 80-something year olds. Every Catalan town has their own group, and they take great pride in being the most spectacular.

It sounds absurdly cliche, but these kind of events make me so glad I came abroad to a place with such a unique culture, and a culture they´re so proud of. I fully plan to hang a Catalan flag in my dorm room this spring - even though the language may frustrate me, I love the traditions.

Trick or Treat!

Even though I didn't dress up, I did get to celebrate Halloween today. Because the holiday is associated with the English language, all of the English classes at Mar Bella go all out — and I was invited to attend. All week, the third through sixth grade classes had been learning songs in English, which they performed for the younger kids. The words were mildly inaudible, but the masks were adorable. The older kids then went trick or treating to all the younger classrooms and sang the "Trick or Treat" song, which I had taught them on Wednesday. Per the teachers' suggestion, we changed "If you don't, I don't care, I'll pull down your underwear" to "I'll put red ants in your hair." I'm not sure how much better that is, but ok!

Most of the kids go home between 1 and 3 to eat lunch, and so I am usually not at Mar Bella during those hours. Today I got to stay and eat with the teachers though, and I have to say, their cafeteria lunch trumps anything I ever saw at FA. We had lovely fresh grilled fish, a wide assortment of vegetables and potatoes, and there were at least three other things I was just to overwhelmed to try.

After lunch was the day's actual main event: the Castanyada.

The Castanyada is a Catalan holiday, celebrated on the same day as Halloween, and centered around castanyers, or chestnuts. I'm still a little fuzzy on the symbolic reasons as to why chestnuts are eaten, but the holiday is extremely festive, and involves a lot of singing and dancing.

The sixth graders dressed up as the gypsies who sell chestnuts on the streets. (I pulled out my best face painting skills to make wrinkles and mustaches.) The preschoolers performed a dance in the gym and were then given folded pieces of newspaper, containing roasted chestnuts. One of the teachers overheard me saying I had never had a chestnut before, and taught me how to properly crack and eat one. Good thing — all of the little kids then decided my nails were perfect for peeling open their treats.

After the youngest and oldest kids had their song and dance time, the entire school congregated on the playground for more dancing and chestnut eating. The first grade class — who have fully attached themselves to me — pulled me into their circle and we all danced to the Catalan castanyer songs. It was unbelievably fun, and the kids got so into it. At the end they got a little Peter Pan-esque on me — three of the first graders refused to let go of my leg and begged me to come home and be their mothers. I promised I would be back on Monday.

How many CASB students does it take to work a printer?

Answer: Unclear - we haven´t fully gotten there yet.

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I´ve determined that a large amount of the reading I have not done while here is simply because I cannot figure out how to print the documents.

Early on, we all encountered some minor traumas trying to print at UPF or UAB. First we were told we needed to apply for printing cards. Then we had to put money on them. Then we had to find the computers that permit printing. Moral of the story: I have yet to encounter a CASB kid who has successfully printed anything at any of the universities.

The solution to the problem - within the CASB office are four computers hooked up to two printers. So every Monday and Wednesday, during the ten minute pausa in the middle of Guerra Civil, we all race to the office. We discovered early on that we needed to bring our own printer paper. After having my mom bring me a pack from home, we also discovered that they use a different size here. (This resulted in Paige and I Wikiped-ing "paper size" for a good 10 minutes while we tried to reformat the printer.)

So now we have the right paper size. The dilemna is that we STILL cannot figure out which printers are linked to which computers, and how to get our boarding passes and hostel confirmations onto the right queues. (Conveniently the printers have the same name.) Generally, we all just put paper in, hit print, and wait for the chaos to ensue.

This morning, I ambitiously set off for CASB on my way to UAB, hoping to print the readings for Contemporary Political Institutions. Armed with a packet of paper, 45 minutes, and serious determination. Finally I got the computer/printer hook going and I started manually doing double-sided printing (the pages were flying everywhere). A couple pages in, the ink ran out. So I switched computers and switched printers. And then the paper jammed. And then the ink on that printer malfunctioned. And then I had to go to UAB.

I´m going to read the first 9 pages very thoroughly, because that may be as far as I get.

"Comida, Artes, Salidas en Barcelona"

As one of my Spanish extracurriculars, I´ve been working on CASB´s "Agenda Cultural" with some of my fellow Consortium-ers. All of the students in the program are encouraged to go out and find cool cultural events in Barcelona and its environs, and if they are willing to write a little blurb about what they´ve seen and done, they can be reimbursed for their adventures. A group of us have been compiling the write ups and today, the first edition of Comida, Artes, Salidas en Barcelona will be unveiled. (Tonight we have a tapas session to all get together and talk about how things are going, since it´s just about the halfway point. (eek!))

As a sneak preview though, check out the blog we made to accompany the newsletter. The actual publication will only be printed a couple times, but we´re going to try to update the site as regularly as possible.

You know, I'm just Sarah Palin

Today I had my second day at Mar Bella. This time I was working with a fifth grade class, who were giving presentations about the different animal groups. I watched to try and get a sense of where they were skill-wise. It was funny - seemingly hard words like "oviparous" they had no trouble pronouncing because the Catalan cognate sounds so similar. On the other hand, the ea sound in "breathe" or "dead" is nearly impossible for them.

After class I was talking to Ángels and the vice principal. In Catalan, the vice principal asked me what I was studying. I answered (in Spanish), political science. "Emmy for President!" she said, adding (in Catalan), "You would be better than that dumb woman from Alaska."

I'm glad some concepts translate.

Marvelous Monday Morning at Mar Bella

Today I (finally) started working in Col-legio Mar Bella (also known as Mar Bella Elementary School). After a brief transportation snafu (I didn´t really know what bus stop to get off at and overshot - good thing I walk fast), I arrived at 9, just as all the kids and their parents were lining up outside the school gates. Some things are exactly the same - all the little kids had Hello Kitty, Disney and FC Barcelona backpacks, the sixth graders had those annyoing wheely backpacks, with which they were running over everyone´s feet.

I walked inside and found Ángels and Ángels, the two English instructors at the school. They introduced me to a couple key people, including the vice principal. She asked me questions in Catalan, I responded in Castellano, and was told I could only speak English while in the classroom. Oy vey.

First I worked with a class of first graders. Within the last few years, Halloween has become an actual holiday in Spain (for totally commercial reasons), but prior to that, it´s always been celebrated in English classes. The class was learning different vocabulary, like "witch" and "spider," and making little booklets to help them along. I sat down with a boy named Guillem, who showed me his coloring and started spèaking in Catalan. "Guillem," a nearby little girl said (also in Catalan), "Ángels SAID she only speaks English." (Obviously they believed that and I was pretty good at pretending I had no idea what was going on.) "I know that," Guillem responded, "but I´m going to teach her."

My favorite part about six year olds though: every little girl came and hugged my legs at the end of the hour.

Next I headed to a very rambunctious third grade class, where we practiced the song they´ll be singing at the Halloween party on Friday. They were getting antsy though - at 11 am they have "breakfast" (sandwiches brought from home) and play extremely physical fútbol on the playground.

Between classes, I had a chance to sit down with the two Ángels and talk about future classes. I´m really glad this program actually allows me to help coordinate what I do. When I worked in a bilingual classroom in Providence, I showed up, stood there and did what I was told. I felt like I was helping - but only to a degree. Here, I get to actually influence what we do during the hours I´m in the classroom.

To finish off my morning I went to a classroom of sixth graders. They were shyer about speaking at first, but by the end, had warmed up to me. All they wanted to know (once they found out where I´m from) is whether I had ever seen any famous people. I named a couple of my more obscure celeb sightings, but what they really wanted to know is whether I have ever seen the Jonas Brothers.

It was actually a challenge to NOT speak any Spanish, especially with everyone around me rattling away in a combination of Catalan and Castellano. I had to think really hard about what to say before I started speaking in English. One of the Ángels said she felt more self-conscious speaking English to the class with me there, and I understand the feeling. Right now I´m in the UPF library about to walk into my social theory class, where I am mildly terrified of raising my hand because I don´t even know what´s going to come out. But if I can teach a bunch of elementary school kids how to speak English, maybe Guillem and his friends can teach me to speak Catalan too. Maybe.

PS(A)

This week I am only five hours ahead of the east coast. Daylight savings - go figure.

Food for Thought

Last night, after returning from our day of Spanish touring, about 10 of us decided to embark on an even more Spanish quest: a dinner of homemade tapas. It´s remarkable what you can create with a baby-sized kitcken, a Mercadona spree and eager CASB chefs. We had tortilla española (a french fry omelette, basically), chicken croquettes, pa amb tomaquet (Catalan speciality; calling it bruschetta would be an insult), pimientos de padron (pan-fried green peppers), sauteed mushrooms and patatas bravas (potatoes + spicy sauce = yum). It took a lot of olive oil - and a lot of love - and was delicious.

Today though, we were on a different bent. All week, Paige and I have been bemoaning the lack of free refills (and fountain soda for that matter) in Spain. We wanted a diner. What we really wanted was Meeting Street, but we were willing to settle.

This week marked the second dip of the choque cultural chart. The initial plummet came from a frustration with Spanish disorganization and the difficulties of navigating a foreign system. I think I´m totally past that - and actually starting to get to the point, remarkably, where I can understand Spanish without trying too hard. This piece of the evolucion emocional came more from the missing-home angle.

And so four of us caved, and went to the Hard Rock Cafe for dinner. Ok, we were touristy, and we overpaid for our burgers, but they were delicious, and we just smiled at the waitress as she judgingly asked if we wanted another refill. Yes please.

Going Goth

Throughout the semester, we continue to have group activities, etc. all centered around one theme - Spanish art. The first installment of the proseminario was Roman art - hence the trip to the Pyrenees. Over the course of the last week, we explored chapter 2: Gothic Art.


On Wednesday we checked out the Museu Maritim, where we looked at boats from centuries past. Especially of note were the maps - it was funny to look at these beautiful, ancient maps and see a country other than the US occupying the central focus.

On Friday we took another walking tour of the city, sticking to the oldest part of Barcelona, which is known as the barrio gotico (Gothic neighborhood). I apologize for the lack of visuals, and recommend Wikipedia-ing "Santa Maria del Mar" or "El Seu."

Saturday we boarded another CASBús for a day trip around the area. First stop was the Monasterio de Santa Creus in Tarragona, a beautifully maintained building with pretty grounds and gardens.

Then we headed to Montblanc, another nearby city which has still maintained its outer walls, centuries later. After some brief exploring, we sat down for a serious lunch, which turned out to be the main activity of the day (unsurprisingly). We had given our orders on the bus ride at 9 am, so we´d been thinking about food the whole time anyway. It did not disappoint.

After lunch we explored more of the town before reboarding the bus and headed back to Barcelona.

I was going to make pictures in Paint to accompany my travel tales, but perhaps I´ll just hold off for now on the accompanying images.

Color by Numbers

I was waiting to write about a number of things because I wanted the accompanying images, but with my computer's unexpected "vacation" upon us, a little imagination is required...

1. Last Friday, we finally met with the teachers who we'll be working with in the Barcelona elementary schools. (Remember that? Yeah, we almost forgot about it too.) I have been assigned to a school called Mar Bella, which is in the Poble Nou district — a rapidly gentrifying neighborhood near the Olympic Village. (According to the director of the school's English program, the parents are working class but the kids grow up to be professionals.) While in the classrooms, we have to pretend we speak absolutely no Spanish — it's our job to get the kids to speak in English and really practice. I'll be working with first, third and sixth graders. My first day is Monday — my schedule made it hard to find times to go, but luckily Juanjo's "Guerra Civil" class is optional on Mondays (seriously), so I'll be kicking it with the kiddies instead.

2. On Tuesday night, I went to my first fútbol game. FC Barcelona — more religion than team — was playing a team we had never heard of (Russia's Rubin Kazan), but it was a championship game and there were decent seats available, so we went for it. We dressed up, painted our faces, and cheered loudly with the best of the Catalan fans. Barça lost (2-1) and there were some shocking cultural differences, but it was awesome.

3. At long last, I am an official UAB student. Given that I have been here for two months, that statement may seem confusing. Well, in fact, I am only matriculated as of this week. It seems no one was in that big of a rush. The good news? I now have access to the course websites and can pretend to an even greater degree that I know what's happening. The bad news? All those readings we thought didn't exist? We found them.

4. I personally thought that the rain in Spain only fell on the plain, but for the last few days, Barcelona has really been evoking Providence. Here's hoping it's only temporary. That being said, it's definitely fall now. The summer dresses are going under the bed and the sweaters are making their first appearances.

We're approaching the halfway point of CASB, which I cannot believe. October can't possibly be almost over, can it?

This WOULD happen to me.

Anyone who knows me well is aware of my computer and its... trials, so it was only a matter of time before something traumatic happened here. This morning, the feisty little guy would not turn on, and so I let him take a time out for the day.

After much trial and error (thank you ChazinSweden), it was determined that there was a problem I could not fix myself. The closest Apple store to me is in Munich, which really made me miss the dysfunctional haven that is Providence Place. I was able to locate an Authorized Apple Service Provider though, and for the next 10 days, that´s where my baby will be vacationing.

NOTE: For everyone who has always questioned why my computer is such a disaster scene - NEW REVELATION - it´s not my fault.