OH HEY, NEWARK!

So, I lied. That WASN'T my last post. This one most probably is, though. I have such a long time to kill in Newark that I figured I would write about myself, instead of reading Cien Años de Soledad.

I remember when I got in from Buenos Aires being totally shocked by everything (even though I - presumably - knew it already): the size of everything, the way people dress, the ridiculous over-use of the flag in and around customs. But this time it doesn't seem so weird. Maybe Barcelona isn't as different as Buenos Aires was, or maybe I got used to seeing weird stuff all the time since I traveled a lot. Either way, my re-entry has (thus far) been decidedly less dramatic.

I was sad on the plane though - I stared at Barcelona from my window until I couldn't even make out Mt Tibidabo. But now I just want to get home to some turkey meatloaf and my bed. I'm relearning to use my phone again, and am excited to be able to text and call all of my friends! Now I think I'm going to go order a cheeseburger. It'll be great. And I could order a beer! I was thinking about it, and I don't know how to order drinks in English. I assume it's much the same, but still. How do you order beer on tap? Do you say beer on tap? I could say caña, but I doubt it would get me very far. Weird, I don't know why that n-yay (oh spanglish) was italic. Anyway, yay America! I'm almost home. I miss Spain.

One last post

Well, I've come to the end of the semester. I can't believe it went by so quickly, and I can't believe I have to leave. Packing has been less stressful than I thought it would be, but "appreciating Barcelona" has been extraordinarily stressful. Due to a rather long evening last night, I didn't make it to MNAC in the morning today as I had planned, but I am slowly accepting the fact that I just don't have any more time here. In fact, my plane leaves in only 13 hours. It's a sad realization, but the more I think about it the more I believe I will make myself come back.

For all the moments when I haven't been completely happy with IES, with the unfriendly nature of the Catalans, or anything else, the last three weeks have been so blissful that it has pretty much erased any less than ecstatic memory. I know that I will be happy to be home, but I also know that around January 3rd I will probably sit around saying "If I was in Barcelona right now, I could be-" eating tapas/beginning an evening out with a jarra of sangria/people watching on Las Ramblas... etc.

The things I neglected to do: go to MNAC, Fundacio Joan Miro, Local Bar, the Dow Jones, and Razzmatazz; take the gondola to Montjuic, and see one last sardana. Well, I guess I just have to come back.
Today I finished my Christmas shopping. It was a MADHOUSE. It was literally like being in a mob, because you couldn't choose where you wanted to walk, you just walked until someone near you moved far enough to a side so that you could edge your way out of the stream. I literally stood trying to leave a store for nearly a full minute before there was an opening in the crowd. Also, because it's Barcelona, you not only have to fight the crowds, but also the riot police. Why would they choose to protest on the busiest shopping street at the busiest time of the day on the Saturday before Christmas? Search me. Actually, it's quite obvious, because 10 million people will see them protesting. I hadn't been in such a large and overwhelming crowd since Mom and I went to the Palio in Siena.

So this is the end. I'm all packed (minus toiletries, pajamas, laptop, and clothes for tomorrow), I did nearly everything on my "last month in Barcelona" list, I had an epic last night (last night- since I can't really go out tonight because of my morning flight), I have presents for everyone but Kyle (who wants boring, non-Spanish things), and I have said goodbye to all of my friends save one, who I'm eating some final tapas with this evening. I still just can't believe it though. Even though several of my friends are already settled back in the states, I'm in disbelief that everything is over and that regular life has to resume. Regular life. Psh. What fun is it speaking your native language? None. And knowing where you are all the time? And driving places? What a boring life. Give me a nit bus, a crowd of people who speak just quickly enough that I think I understand but I probably don't, and a cosmopolitan city made up of tiny swerving medieval streets any day of the week.

Things I will miss

As promised. To be clear, many of these are food items that are probably available at home (or I could make at home), but certainly not as easily. Also, some items (#26) are very available in Portland but not available at all in Walla Walla. So you may have to do some guessing work as to where I will be missing each item.

1. chorizo
2. jamon iberico
3. pan con tomate
4. tapas
5. walking to school through a bustling metropolis
6. hearing at least four different languages most days
7. always having at least seven different concerts I could (conceivably) go to each night
8. patatas bravas... french fries will never be the same. Nor will ketchup.
9. palm trees (weird, right? What am I, Californian?)
10. being of legal drinking age... OH WAIT, I WILL BE TOMORROW!
11. dressing up all the time (yet never as well-dressed as the Catalanes)
12. using a hand towel as a toilet seat cover
13. tortilla espanyola
14. learning new words every time I try to do ANYTHING
15. being able to bogart tables at restaurants for as long as you feel like it
16. being able to go to a restaurant and order nothing but a soda (and then, because of #15, stay for three hours)
17. the ability to go anywhere I want using nothing but public transportation (and occasionally my feet)
18. being constantly interrupted by protests (it's sort of endearing)
19. shops that stay open until 10 (or 11)
20. seeing different people every day, even on the same path at the same time
21. ColaCao (I may be bringing this home. It's like Spanish Ovaltine)
22. breathtaking (and often weird) architecture on every block
23. bakeries on every corner
23a. fresh bread every day
24. chocolate con churros
25. techno music
26. falafel
27. tiny, old people everywhere, usually complaining, but always well-dressed
28. an interest in sport, singular (I would say "sports" but I don't see anyone following anything but futbol)
29. los punkis
29a. mullets & mohawks
29b. super short bangs
29c. brightly colored skinny jeans
30. the accent ("pero que di(th)es")
31. the old men that play a weird bocce-like game in the park I pass on my way to school
32. a clean, efficient, on-time metro system with a countdown to the next train (ok, Portland's got clean and on-time, but I love these timers. They never lie.)
33. euros - they are color-coded AND size-coded. Have you ever considered the fact that a blind person couldn't tell a $1 bill from a $20 bill? Well, they couldn't.
34. cafe con leche
35. good quality vino and cava for less than 7 euros a bottle
36. GAUDI and Parc Guell
37. my wonderful friends here
38. my KICKASS host family
39. our proximity to the metro, the grocery store, the bakery, cafes, bars, and everything else I could ever need
40. no one bothering themselves with me, ever
41. HARLEM JAZZ CLUB
42. sangria
43. meeting people from all over the world (recently: Sweden, France, Argentina, Ecuador)

I'll keep thinking... I'm sure there are more.

Things I can't wait for

Speaking of lists...

1. Netflix (attention Kyle, I'm reclaiming it)
2. Pandora
3. lots of food
4. my wonderful double bed
5. central heating
6. my North Face
7. access to a gym
8. carpets
9. delicious clean tap water
10. peanut butter
11. evergreens
12. not looking like a fool in flared jeans (speaking of which, I bought skinny purple pants that are so euro I want to hurl - in a good way)
13. serving my own portions at dinner and not being chided for eating too little
14. rain (though I'm told to expect snow)
15. math classes
16. my ipod speakers!
17. my room which neither shares walls with anyone else's nor is in the front hall
18. coming home without reeking of cigarette smoke
19. a dryer
20. lines of 6 people that take less than 30 minutes to get through
21. oh yeah, all those people I love

Stay tuned, tomorrow is things I will miss.

Live vicariously through me!

Just a quick note to say pictures are up! All 811 of them. Check them out: http://s426.photobucket.com/albums/pp347/lindsermyra/

SO PRODUCTIVE

Would you like to know how many things I crossed off my "last month in Barcelona" list this weekend? Well, I'll tell you. Seven. It would have been nine, but the gondola was closed due to weather conditions and the Fundacio Joan Miro is at the other end of that gondola.
I went to the TOP of Mt Tibidabo this time, I watched the Real Madrid-Barca game from a local bar, I had churros and chocolate (again), I went inside the statue of Columbus at SUNSET, I found Placa del Pi and the market in it (mostly food), I went to the modernist Hospital de Sant Pau, designed by Gaudi protege Lluis Domenech i Montaner, I saw the oldest church in the city, Sant Pau del Camp, and tonight I will be able to cross off Placa de la Revolucio and the Gracia neighborhood when Stacey, Danielle and I go wander the squares. Then it will be eight. Stacey and I also went to no less than three new bars this weekend: Milk, L'Ascensor, and Bodega Tio, and also the totally random one where we watched the game. By the way, you should know that we not only learned the fight song, we tried to sing it when Barca won, but no one else in the bar was singing. We assumed they would immediately break into song each time a goal was scored, or at the very least when they won, but we were sorely disappointed. It was better this way though, because we only learned about seven of the words, where to clap, and when to yell "BARCA! BARCA! BAAAAAAAAAAARCA!" It was great nonetheless.

I'm very into my lists right now: lists of food to eat when I get home (apples, broccoli, asparagus, salads, artichoke, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes and sweet potato waffles, skim milk, orange juice, chocolate peanut butter ice cream, bagels, cream cheese, avocados, turkey sandwiches, omelets and all other egg products, Thai Orchid, Montage, Chinese, Sandoval's, Fat City, Kraft mac & cheese, Papa Haydn's, peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, Burgerville, Indian cart), lists of things left to do in Barcelona (MNAC, Joan Miro, patatas bravas from L'Ovella Negra, Razzmatazz, see Groove Juice at Harlem, gondola to Montjuic, Palau de la Musica, Dow Jones, maybe the chocolate museum?), lists of school work left to do (study for poetry final, take-home lit final), and lists of people to buy presents for (it's even longer than my list of food to eat when I get home). I like lists.

The weather has been fantastic every day until about 4 pm, when the clouds roll in and all of a sudden it's windy and freezing. But at least the leaves are falling. Most of them. Last night it rained, which was unfortunate for several reasons: the most prominent being we were on our way to an ice bar at the moment. Yes, we went to a bar made completely of ice, where the temperature is kept at -5 degrees Celsius and the cups, tables, and decorations are all ice. They give you parkas, hats, and gloves at the door. Unfortunately, the bottom two inches of everyone's jeans were wet, and some were wearing flats (not I), so it was an extremely icey experience. You're only allowed in for 45 minutes, but we took about 900 pictures in the 30 minutes we were able to stand. I am obsessively photo-documenting every moment now, so I have tons of new pictures which are making their way onto Photobucket. On our way back from Hospital Sant Pau, Stacey and I found ourselves at La Sagrada Familia just as they lit it up for the evening. I thought I had seen enough of the building, but it is even more incredible at night... as you can see! The pictures I included in this post are (in order): Columbus statue at dusk, Las Ramblas as seen from the Columbus statue, Barcelona as seen from Mt Tibidabo, and La Sagrada Familia lit up at night. The day we went to Mt Tibidabo started with clear, blue skies, but by the time we got up to the top it was decidedly less clear and gorgeous, as seen in the cloudy, smoggy photo. Anyway, I am doing my best to make use of all of my time in Barcelona, and getting ready to come home as well (mentally - it's too early for packing). If you can think of a present that someone (maybe you!) would like from Barcelona, you should comment and leave me suggestions, because I have no idea what to get anyone but I assume it should be something Spanish! It would be quite the cop-out to get Christmas presents at home when I've been in Europe all this time.

Three to go!

GREAT NEWS! My oral exam today went very, very well. So hopefully that will make up for the written this past Tuesday, which was less than perfect. Also, I turned in my term paper on Tuesday, and got it back today with a 9.5 (out of 10)!!! So things are looking up.
Next I have a Spanish final tomorrow morning, a poetry final on Tuesday, and a take-home final for lit due on Thursday, which I will turn in early so that I don't have to worry about it on my birthday. And then EVERYTHING WILL BE DONE! I can't wait.

Just moments ago, a student arrived at the door who is going to move in with the family next semester. She arrived - suitcase in hand - speaking very little Spanish and is currently in the living room bonding with the family. As much as she can. I can hear Paula asking "Entiendes?" every few minutes. But she does that to me too, so I guess I shouldn't judge. The suitcase debacle was kind of hilarious though, because everyone was like - um... do you think you're moving in now? Lindsey lives here now. I'll probably offer to grab coffee with her or something, and tell her about the family. Lucky thing, gets to be here all year. Hmph.

I thought that as the day got closer, I would be more and more excited to come home, but every day I am more convinced that I can never leave. I will be glad to be home, but now every time I ride the metro or eat a chorizo sandwich or see the moon rising over the castle-like building on my walk home from IES, I just ache thinking that it's one of the last times. Soon it really will be the last time. As much as I want Wednesday to come as fast as it can, each day I spend wishing my schoolwork would hurry up and be over I realize is a day I should be enjoying down to the last second. Also, Wednesday is my birthday, so it's tougher than ever to not want it to be here NOW. But no, I have far too much to do in Barcelona to be dreaming of a day even six days away. Today I went to the CCCB (Contemporary Cultural Center of Barcelona) with Stacey, which was one thing off my list, and this weekend I did four others: Mt. Tibidabo (but I'm going back, since we missed the funicular), Boadas (the oldest cocteleria in Barcelona), the Plaza Espanya magic fountain show, and the best Thai restaurant in Barcelona. I'll give you a brief summary of the rest: museums left on my art ticket, the gondola to Montjuic, the big modernisme hospital, go inside the statue of Columbus, a few more barri gotic landmarks I've missed, and four or five bars that have been recommended to me but I've never been to. I think it's manageable, but the four days after I'm done with classes may be full of self-guided walking tours (through places like the Jewish quarter and the Gracia neighborhood).

Things I wish I could've done this semester:
1. Go to Madrid, Prague, Morrocco, and France. But being gone half of the weekends of the semester was more than enough.
2. Somehow magically secure tickets to the Real Madrid/Barca game (on Saturday. I'll be watching it from La Tapilla Sixtina, on my block)
3. Figure out the public libraries
4. Make friends with some catalanes (I probably could've done more, but I thought I made a good effort)
5. Take a Catalan class - none of them fit with my schedule
6. Gone to the beach more when it was 85 out

There are probably more. But I'll leave my other remembrances of the semester for next week! I have much more time to blog but leaving will probably be the theme of the next 10 days.

desembre

Well, it's been a while, and I once again find myself with homework to do, so what better time than now to blog?

My UPF classes ended on Tuesday, so I now have inordinate amounts of free time, which I somehow almost always end up wasting. This does not bode well for me, since I now have only 14 days left in Barcelona. FOURTEEN! I also have a very long list of things to do while I'm still here, so I should be at the very least doing things from that, if not actually studying. Tuesday I also had my final exam in Art History. It wasn't too bad - I think that I could have done better if I had remembered the names of some "Die Brucke" artists. But life goes on.

I was supposed to have the oral part of my Islam History final on Monday, but the professor said he was too busy to conduct any finals that week, and would have to reschedule them all for next week. So a good 35 out of the 97 people in my class had to reschedule. Mine is now on Thursday, and the written is on Tuesday. My Borges term paper is also due on Tuesday, my Spanish essay is due on Wednesday, and my Spanish final is on Friday. What a fun week.

Last week though, I did lots of fun things. Like buy a Barack Obama caganer! I also went to Mt. Tibidabo with Stacey and Danielle, but we were too late for the funicular, which closes at four, so we watched the sunset from a cafe half way up the "mountain." Barack is posing in front of Barcelona at dusk - the view is from that cafe. I also saw the magic fountain show at Placa Espanya, which was GREAT. I saw it during La Merce, but because of all the people and all the fireworks, I didn't get to see as much of the fountain as I would have liked. This time we were standing literally right in front of the fountain, and it was definitely magical. I also went to the Thai Lounge with Stacey, which is supposed to have the best Thai food in Barcelona, and had some amazing pad thai and some weird dim sum. They were both delicious, although not exactly what I was expecting. I also had the best cocktail of my life at a bar called Cabart - the femme fatale. It's rum, ginger, cardamom, cinnamon, sugar, lime, and bitters. Amazing. On the same evening, we saw a Portland band called Yacht at the Apolo! Danielle and I wanted to somehow communicate to them that we were from Portland, but they didn't give us a good opportunity to scream after they said "Portland," so it didn't work out.

Maddy's friend from UO, Leah, is in Barcelona this weekend with some friends from her Sevilla program, so I have hung out with them a bit. We had some delicious Italian food in El Born, and they met us at the magic fountain show as well. I should hang out with them right now - but even more than that, and even more than blogging, I should be writing about metafiction. But it has been so long since I've written a paper! I don't know where to begin. I mean... I've totally begun already. Please. My paper is due in two days, of course I've begun.

Anyway, only seven more "things" to do before I am done with school, and only fourteen more days to do the forty more things on my "Last month in Barcelona" list.

Ez dakit euskaraz hitz egiten.

According to Google, that means "I don't speak Basque." I have no way of knowing if Google is right or not, but I do know that "euskara" means the Basque language.
Let's talk about Basque for a moment. Having lived in Catalunya for a good three plus months now, I am very used to the bilingualism in daily life - not understanding the advertisements, street signs, or the people talking around me; having announcements and important signs in both Catalan and Spanish; and a general confusion as to whether or not I should be understanding things. Of course, all of this has improved with the ever-so-insignificant gains in my knowledge of Catalan. But I was prepared for it to happen all over again, with renewed force and a great deal less ease in San Sebastian (also known, in Euskara, as Donostia). For one thing, Basque is the craziest language I have ever seen. It doesn't look like anything. It isn't related to anything. It is just alone in the world, doomed to a life of lunacy. Catalan is at least a Romance language that looks considerably like Spanish some of the time - Basque is... not. But from what I saw, Basque is not nearly as strong a presence as Spanish in San Sebastian. The street signs are all in Basque, and the restaurants mostly have Basque names, but as far as people speaking on the street, I only overheard Spanish. With the exception of one group of school-aged kids, I didn't hear Basque spoken at all. I was expecting a much more hardcore obsession with their native language, since the Basque country, unlike Catalunya, actually has a terrorist group demanding freedom from Spain. The Basque country seems to be more proactively seeking independence, yet Catalunya seems to not only be complaining more, but also clinging to their culture a lot more.

Donostia, in turns out, is a much lovelier city in the summer. Having been there in June of... 04? with my family, I was able to see it in full swing. The last weekend of November is considerably less exciting. A beach town is just decidedly less pleasant in 45 degree rainy weather. I should note, I have spent a good deal of time at the Oregon coast in 45 degree rainy weather, but for some reason it was ok then. Stacey and I did, however, squeeze in a great hike to the top of Monte Urgull, where a very large statue of Jesus awaited us, while the weather was good. On Saturday we went to Bilbao for the day, where we saw the Guggenheim (which was AWFUL. The entire second floor was this horrible artist, Cy Twombly, who appears to have done little more than smear canvasses with paint directly from the tube, scribble whatever thoughts he is having over them, or write out some random measurements. I was literally pained that people appeared to appreciate them. I mean, I liked a few of them. He had about thirteen pieces in the entire collection that I think were worthy of being in a museum - I don't know what the hell the Guggenheim was doing with the other ninety two. Wow, am I still inside my parentheses?). And on Sunday, we went to the Palacio de Miramar, which isn't open to the public. The guide book said it was a lovely stroll around the grounds though - perhaps. Perhaps on a nice day, when you only have ten minutes but want to see something, anything. The grounds take exactly that long. There was a nice view, and it was lovely to hear the ocean, but they were small and not very interesting. That isn't to say I didn't like San Sebastian - I did, a lot. It just wasn't that exciting.

But our meals! Oh my. For lunch on Friday we braved a pintxos menu, and after a bit of confusion as to how to order, I had tortilla and a bocadillo de jamon iberico, both of which I eat all the time, but that doesn't diminish their brilliance. Friday night we happened upon a random place in the old town, and had an excellent menu del dia which came with an entire bottle of wine, rather than just a glass. This appears to be standard in the Basque country, as it happened to us at lunch and dinner the next day as well. I had a fish cake that was good minus the fact that it was drowning in mayonnaise, and some incredible beef and potatoes, followed by an Euskara dessert. I don't remember what it was called, but the bottom layer was cuajada, a custard-y curd thing, topped with apple preserves, then whip cream, then honey, and finally walnuts. It was outstanding. The wine we had was great too. Saturday, we had lunch in Bilbao, and had another fantastic menu, where I had chicken paella and a white fish which I will never know the name of, along with a bottle of rioja. More dessert (I looove menus) - this time I had natilla, which is a way better custard than flan is. For dinner that night we went to La Perla, thanks to the recommendation of MTV Spain, which was right on the beach. It was again, FANTASTIC, and they brought us shots of pumpkin soup as an appetizer, along with delicious bread. I had an incredible hake and potatoes dish, and for dessert we had some sort of incredible lava cake with bitter orange ice cream. I pretty much died.

The hostel was kind of weird though - it was just one guy that ran it, and it felt like we were all just staying in his apartment. It was his birthday the first night we were there, and they had a huge party. The girls in our room came home reaaaally drunk and woke me up at four with "oh my god, I fell! I fell! The floor is so slippery... if only the floor wasn't so slippery. I fell, and Michael saw it all. Oh, Michael. Michael saw it all," followed by, "Shut the [fudge] up, the girls are trying to [fudging] sleep, Jesus Christ, would you just shut the [fudge] up!" And then Michael, roommate #3, turned on the television and watched for a good... hour? All of this at four am. Once he fell asleep, however, the fun was not over, since Michael snored with such power and volume that the room was practically shaking. The breakfast was a little sketchy too - there were eggs and milk - but they sat out on the "breakfast counter" 24 hours a day, unrefrigerated. Anyway the point is it was weird. But San Sebastian on the whole was cool. Bilbao was cool too, but we saw less of it.

The night before we left was Thanksgiving, what I thought would be a very sad day. NOT SO! Ana made turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes (from a box... but it's the thought), and I made a chocolate pie (which I am shocked to report actually worked out, even with the difficulty of converting to metric and finding things like vanilla extract, graham crackers, and buttermilk). Erik and Bea (cousins, 21 and 23) came over, and we had a great feast of the whole thing. First course was a noodle/meatball soup they have on Christmas (so we could combine our respective countries' holiday traditions), then the turkey + stuffing + potatoes + broccoli (way over cooked, but oh man! Broccoli! How I love thee!), and finally the pie, which we accompanied with a Catalan dessert wine. It was incredible. I have the best host family ever. I even came home on Sunday to homemade chocolate for merienda. Long live the Huergas.

So now all I have to do is pass my classes (two finals a week for the next three weeks - starting tomorrow, plus a paper and two presentations), complete my "last 20 days in Barcelona" list, and then cry with both sadness and elation at the prospect of coming home.