The resolution of the UAB debacle. Sort of.

After waiting over an hour for the UAB secretariat, it became apparent that no one knew what language any of the classes were in. The organizational system at this university makes Brown look like the Army. And that's saying a lot. On the bright side, it was about 2:30 pm by this point, and it turns out that the communications department has a lovely cafeteria.

I went to "Instituciones Politiques Contemporanies," take two — and this time it was in Spanish. It turns out I missed the first class somehow, though don't ask me when it was held. After 90 minutes of rapid-fire Spanish lecturing, I went up to the professor and calmly explained that I was an international student who had been given very little information, and would greatly appreciate either a syllabus or his email address.

Nearly 10 hours after I departed Onix this morning, I returned to Barcelona proper. But you know what they say: tomorrow is another day. And believe me when I say I am not the only one experiencing class-related trauma.