Highlights of Week 2

Midway through another week of orientation classes and all is going splendidly.

Yesterday we had another Catalan-filled morning. Now I can conjugate very simple words and tell time. But even when it comes to reading clocks, the Catalan have their own special way of doing things. 2:15 is not a quarter past two, but rather a quarter to three (2:45 would be three quarters to three).

Following class, we headed on a walking tour of Gracía, arguably one of the nicest neighborhoods in the city. Outside of the original Roman walls, Gracía is filled with slightly wider streets and pretty open squares. The plaças are home to much of the city’s nightlife, though I have to say there is a large contrast between how they look at 2 p.m. and 2 a.m.

Rather than return to the local-filled bars in Gracía last night, we opted to go the slightly more American route. Barcelona is filled with study abroad students and as a result, there are a series of club promoters appealing just to this large contingent of college-aged Americans. They send constant updates of where that night’s big party will be, and all you have to do is saunter up to the bouncer and say, “Somos amigos de Kyke.” The whole scene is kind of bizarre, and not something I plan to replicate all too frequently, but it was fun.

This morning contained another 5-hour marathon of history and culture — today’s lesson focused on the history of Catalonia, followed by a look at songs from the region. Paige was going to live blog the event, but lost stamina after the first entry.

Though it’s easy to think — at least for now — that we’re basically on vacation, I do have a fair amount of homework. But alas, don’t cry for me: I just wrote a Spanish composition while tanning poolside at the Residencia.

And as a side note, publication has begun at The Brown Daily Herald. Click here to read up on what I would be doing right now were I not lying on a plastic chaise lounge in Barcelona.

Subways, schools and Spanish spreads

After Catalan class #2 this morning, I am confident I could introduce myself and announce where I'm from. I am also very skilled at repeating what my teacher says, in unison, with my class (though after having my very strong coffee).

Class was held at UB — Universitat de Barcelona — which is the third Spanish school in the Consortium. Fall students don't take regular classes there because they have finals in January.

We had to head over to the CASB center after class, so Matt and I embarked on what seemed like a foolproof Metro journey. Locating the line we needed, we saw a train pulling onto the platform and hopped aboard. Only seconds after the door closed did we realize it was going the wrong direction. (In our defense, the signs are VERY unclear in certain spots.) So we disembarked at the next stop and started to cross over to the other platform, only to hear the train pulling in. We started running for it, but I was a little behind. (Yes Dad, I was wearing sandals) Needless to say, the door closed with Matt on the train and me on the platform. But the moral of the story: we were still early. So at least this time we got that part right.

At the center, we had our first training for prácticas educativas, an optional program that allows us to work in Spanish schools, particularly with kids learning English. We had a long first session all about schools in Barcelona, which teach primarily in Catalan, but are faced with large immigrant populations that don't speak the language (let alone Spanish or English). The program is organized directly by the Consorci d'Educació de Barcelona, and we will get to meet with the teachers and help plan curricula.

I'm really excited for this program because it will be an interesting contrast to my experience last semester in Providence. (Background: Because of my Spanish class, I got involved with a very cool organization called VIPS that places college students in classrooms. I spent Tuesday mornings in a bilingual first grade class at Laurel Hill Elementary School.)

We were given a lunch break in the midst of our informational session, so four of us headed to a cafe down the block for a menu del día. The paper menu said a drink was included, but much to our surprise, two bottles of wine were plunked down on the table. Hello, lunchtime. The assumption is that you'll eat enough to soak it all up, I think... (And the bonus: it's part of the 10 euro price tag that includes three generous courses.) Though the Spanish claim they don't drink wine to get drunk, they do take their consumption quite seriously.

Mosaics and Manifestaciones: Pictures speak a lot louder than words

Antoni Gaudi is the hero of Barcelona, and today we went to see his one of his great masterpieces: the Park Güell. Originally intended to be a modern housing development, it's now an incredible public park.

We meandered around the park and headed to the top to check out the incredible views of the city:

The real surprise came later on... Walking back from a mid-afternoon cafe con leche, we were planning to toodle around El Cortes Ingles for a while. The streets were all blocked off though, with signs for a manifestación, or protest. Obviously intrigued, we followed the masses with their big drums and loud whistles.

Turns out it was a protest sponsored by the unions who put on Spain's extraordinary fireworks and fire displays. In what was more parade than anything else, the organizations held up signs protesting new laws from the EU that would prohibit their pyrotechnic displays. (Background info here)

We followed the protest, furiously snapping photos, and trying to deduce what exactly all the fuss was about. After witnessing mediocre protests all summer in DC, I really have to hand it to the Spanish — they knew exactly what they're doing.

The next episode of "CASB aboard public transit"

Today we had Spanish class at UAB — a 5-hour marathon with a coffee break in the middle. UAB is outside the city proper and getting there requires taking the Ferrocarril, Barca's LIRR equivalent. From the Residencia, we take the Metro to Plaça Catalunya. The Plaça is a Times Square-esque location — touristy and the convergence point for nearly all the transit systems. The 25 or so of us who left Onix at 8:30 managed to get on the correct trains today, but due to long waits and serious complications in purchasing tickets, waltzed into our respective clases de español a bit tardy. Once again though, we received the nonchalant "todo está bien."

This afternoon I had my first advising meeting for choosing classes. In typical Emmy fashion, I walked in with a list of 15 classes and walked out with at least 15 more. I have a couple weeks to figure it out though; plus, the Spanish have shopping period too. (Theirs is not institutionalized per se — it's more that classes start before registration, because each professor gets to choose their own start date. After all, why follow the university schedule?)

Other things I accomplished today include successfully flipping an omelette! (The key is the olive oil, which coats absolutely everything here) and navigating the metro by myself for the first time without getting lost.

Up next: we have our first weekend as "locals." Today also celebrates our one-week anniversary. So far I have to say it's a good fit.

And finally, a buena suerte shout-out to Paige, who through a fortuitous turn of events has found herself en route to play in the Spanish Women's Ultimate Frisbee Nationals in Madrid this weekend. The details can all be found on HER blog at pvhicks.wordpress.com.

Yes, we are the Americans.

For now, it seems that we go very few places in groups smaller than 15. It reminds me of freshman orientation — no one knows where they're going or what they're supposed to be doing, so we all just follow each other. The only consequence of that is how identifiable as Americans we are. We debated getting the ever-present half mullet, but have concluded instead that once we start real classes and have schedules, perhaps we'll fit in a bit more.

Yesterday we had the first of our culture and history classes, taught by a UPF professor. We learned all about Spanish politics and government, which was really interesting, and something I admittedly knew very little about. The class lasted from 9:30 until 2, so it was a bit of a marathon. We got to take a half-hour break, and unlike earlier in the week, the campus center was filled with students. Spanish universities offer those who failed their finals in June a chance to come back early and take them again in September, no questions asked. Sitting in the sun at 11:30 am, they take cervezas with their books. I opted for the cafe con leche, and owe it big thanks for getting me through the whole lesson.

Today we started Catalan class. It's been a while since I got to learn the days of the week and practice introducing myself in a new language — it was actually pretty fun. It was incredible how much I was able to understand, though it may be a while before I can actually handle speaking.

After class, we were scheduled to go on a tour of the románico part of the city. As a group, the 45 of us were left with no detail as to where we were supposed to go. The director of the program sent an email out during the class, which we discovered thanks to the two people with email-receiving phones. (To his credit, he texted a couple of us and let us know that an email had been sent.)

We headed into the nearest metro stop — which happened to be the Penn Station of Barcelona, Estacion Sants. Impressed with ourselves for finding the correct subway line, about 15 of us hopped on-board — only to discover we were headed in the wrong direction. We got off at the next stop, just missing the train back to Sants, and so we waited for another. Unaccustomed to the late lunch of Spain, and still reeling from our long morning class, we made a collective beeline for the track-side vending machine. How many Americans does it take to work a Spanish vending machine? Definitely more than 15. We boarded our train slightly confused and hungry. (And we sent a text message back to the director, who in typical Spanish style said the delay was not a problema)

The tour took us down back alleyways and streets few of us had discovered before, in addition to revealing the old churches and other buildings. Once upon a time, Barcelona was a small walled city, but growing populations forced the murallas to come down. Remnants of the older parts still remain though.

After the tour, food was the first priority, and we experienced our first menu del dia. For only about 10 euros a person, we got drinks, salad and tapas, bread, entrees (fish for me) and dessert. The entire affair took the standard 2+ hours, but we were living in truly Spanish style. And though the waitstaff tried speaking to us in English, I think we're making progress.

School?

I mean, I guess that is why we're here...

Yesterday, we started our day at UPF. Universitat Pompeu Fabra is one of the Spanish schools in the consortium, and the one closest to our Residencia. It's also the newest and smallest. Founded in 1990, it's run by the Catalan government — as opposed to the national Spanish government (all of the universities, like most of Europe, are public). As a result, UPF runs on an actual schedule and has some sense of organization, a contrast to the other two schools (which don't even have their class times posted online yet). This is a reflection of the difference between the Spanish and the Catalan stereotypes. Based on how structured UPF looked on day 1, I'm inclined to think Brown would fit in well with the rest of Spain...

The inside of one of the UPF buildings, formerly a military barrack:

At the university, we got acquainted with more details of the program, checked out the cafeteria, and did some other maintenance tasks. We even got email addresses! emmyliss01@campus.upf.edu, if you feel so inclined. We also started looking up university classes, a task even more daunting than the frustrating days of Banner. Perusing course catalogues you can't read — they're mostly in Catalan — is a bit overwhelming.

We also had the first of our seminars on Catalan art (the theme of our activities and extracurricular programs) at the CASB center. While over there, Paige and I won a printer in the lottery of items from CASB students past. However, the walk was a bit further than anticipated and the shopping bag had a few... issues. Stay tuned as to whether we can get this device working.

Today we trekked out to Universitat Autònoma de Barcelona, which could not be any more different from UPF. Located a train ride outside the city, the university is a city unto itself, serving 80,000 or so students (at least that was what I discerned from the introduction). After an introduction and tour (by bus), we started Spanish class. Intended to prepare us for our actual university classes (which don't start until the end of September), the Spanish classes are designed to be intense. The orientation program is definitely a marathon, and we learned that water and snacks are necessary.

This afternoon I had my first trip to the beautiful Mediterranean beach of Barcelona — a less-than-20-minute walk from the dorm. Evidently, the UPF students bring towels to class and head down there as soon as lecture is over — something we may need to emulate...

ATTACK!

Innocent children in Plaça Catalunya are attacked by creeper photographer and rogue pigeon.