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.