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.

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.

Vinho? Obrigado!

Those are the two words of Portuguese I know. There are some others I know by accident, because they're the same as Spanish, but pretty much the only one I ever said was "obrigado." All the time. (It means "thank you")

So Lisbon is amazing! Seriously. There's a castle, a river, the ocean, a bridge that looks suspiciously golden and gate-like (see very small picture), a boatload of references to the age of Portuguese dominance of the seas, lots of very friendly people, literally acres of Christmas decorations, and a ton of delicious food and wine. Basically a winner in my book. The majority of buildings in Lisbon are covered in colorful ceramic tiles (azulejo), which makes wandering around even more gorgeous than it is in Barcelona. Also, the city is built on seven hills (as you might have heard), which makes it more... shall we say 'heart-healthy' to get around than Barcelona, which only has a gentle slope down to the ocean, and a ferrocarril up the hill. To add to the San Francisco parallels, Lisbon is also covered with trolley tracks, and lots of both antique and new trolleys make up a good portion of the public transportation system. Basically, there wasn't anything about Lisbon I didn't like. Even our hostel was incredible - it had a kitchen we could use to cook meals (if we wanted), delicious breakfast MADE TO ORDER, linens and towels provided, free internet 24 hours a day, and the friendliest staff I have seen in any place of business in all of Europe. Plus it was on one of the main pedestrianized roads in the middle of downtown, so it was close to everything! This hostel pretty much had it all. They even had a tv room and a DVD collection. Still, the fresh eggs in the morning were my favorite.

I was traveling with Stacey, a friend of mine from IES, and her friend from high school, who is studying in Paris. They remembered their passports, so they were there on Thursday. But on Friday, when I arrived at the hostel at 8:30 am, we set off to conquer the city. We saw the castle, the remains of which date from the 13th century, which is on top of the tallest hill in Lisbon, and took in a beautiful view of the entire city. From there we happened upon a church from the 12th century, and wandered around the neighborhood of Alfama, just a few steps behind a tour group. Actually, we only followed them for about a block and a half before seeing an adorable old man playing with some dogs and had to stop to admire the picturesque-ness of the situation. We had lunch in a big praça (another Portuguese word I know, but can't pronounce, but it means plaza) which was decked out with Christmas decorations, just like nearly every street we saw. From there we were pretty beat, myself especially, since I had left my bed in Barcelona at 4:15 that morning, so we napped in our wonderful hostel before heading out. We wandered around Chiado and the Bairro Alto, and found some delicious Italian food for dinner. I had tagliolini with mascarpone and black truffle - I nearly died, it was so epicly amazing - and we tried some Portuguese vinho verde. Although that translates to green wine, it was actually white. Also, in Lisbon, restaurants put out bread bowls, butter, olives, etc, but if you eat from them, they charge you about two euros per person. Um... not cool. It's times like these when I miss America - wonderful America, with overflowing bread bowls, free water without even having to ask for it, and prompt service. Regardless, our dinner was outstanding, and our waiter did give us some free limoncello, which Stacey's friend Lekha had some trouble drinking. It also made it so we spent an extra twenty (or thirty) minutes at the table, but that's the beauty of Europe! That table is yours, no matter how many people feel like waiting for it! We felt like we ought to hit the bars, since Bairro Alto, where we were at the time, is the area to go out in, but it was still early, and so we got ice cream instead. Then we decided we were all too tired anyway, and went back to the hostel where we watched Love Actually and dreamt of Christmas.

Saturday, we went to Belém, where there is a big monastery built by King Manuel I for himself in the 16th century. It is STUNNING, but I've been to my share of old, religious buildings. Maybe someone else's share as well. I was hoping for some pretender to the Holy Grail or perhaps the body of a king, but I was denied. From there we walked to a huge monument dedicated to Portuguese sailing prowess (Monument to Discoveries) - you can sort of see it in the first picture, and you can definitely see it in the nine others on Photobucket. It's very cool - it has 30 extremely gigantic figures of important explorers and cartographers and such, all clamoring on the sides of a comically undersized ship. I don't know - I have trouble thinking of Portuguese as a huge exploratory force (even though I know they were), because the effect of the Spanish, British, and the French is so much more prominent in the sheer volume of countries they colonized. But I guess Brazil is really huge. From there we went to the Tower of Belém, a tower that is on the river, near the confluence(?) of the river with the Atlantic ocean. It used to be used for defense, and now it is a national monument. It is a really cool building but was literally empty, so it wasn't that exciting. There was a spiral staircase to the top, but it was also the staircase to the bottom, so we had a rough time getting up and then back down through all the foot traffic. From there, I nearly died of hunger, and we had some incredible falafel and batatas fritas (see, I know TONS of Portuguese), before slowly making our way back downtown. We stopped at a covered market that had closed only an hour before, where there was a dance going on upstairs! It was filled with adorable old Portuguese couples. We made it back to town, tried the traditional Portuguese pastéis de nata (cream tart), and decided we couldn't make it to dinner without a nap. Rejuvenated, we headed up to one of the many parks in the city to see the lighting of the city's giant Christmas tree! In fact, it is not a tree at all, but a 72 meter high metal and light contraption which glows green, gold, blue, or multi-colored, and also has animations (of sorts) of doves flying, and of a dove hanging a ribbon or tinsel or something around the tree. It was GREAT. The lighting was accompanied by tons of Christmas music, which was all in English. That was sort of surprising to me, but a wonderful surprise! From there we headed back to Bairro Alto and found one of the restaurants that was suggested on wikitravel (since I now get ALL of my information from wiki sites, apparently). We asked how long the wait would be, since the twelve tables were all full, and she said a table had already paid, so probably ten minutes. We decided to wait, and enjoyed a glass of wine on the street outside as we waited a good forty five minutes, never thinking to change our plans (we had wine! What were we supposed to do, leave our glasses and run?). Dinner was delicious once we were seated though, and I had the special, which was octopus served with roasted potatoes and spinach - and it was amazing. I was nervous about it being octopus, but it was delectable. For dessert, we had chocolate pudding, and then, exhausted from the wait, the meal, and the wonderful conversation, we headed back to the hostel, fighting the crowds of bar-goers (that can't be a word) who were all in the street. Apparently the good bars are too small, so you just order and stand outside all night. Not bad in Lisbon, where it was 65, but that could be rough in other places.

The next morning we once again enjoyed some freshly scrambled eggs, then headed out to do some last minute shopping before heading to the airport. I was glad to be back in Barcelona, but it is much colder than it was in Lisbon, and also I have to go to class here! That dose of Christmas was wonderful though, and I can't wait for them to turn on the lights in Barcelona! All of the Christmas lights are up, but they sit there sadly, just like me, desperate for the Christmas season to be in full swing. Only 27 days until I come home - I'm so happy to be here, but I definitely miss Portland right now. Especially knowing that a lot of my friends are home for Thanksgiving! But I have much more important things to focus on - like the term paper, the presentation, the five written exams, and the oral exam that are all due or taking place between Dec 1 and 18. Oh dear Jesus.
Sorry this one was so long - Lisbon is just THAT awesome.

With each step I am more certain

SO. Rodgers & Hammerstein are pretty much my personal heroes.
This seemingly random factoid comes to you as a way of introducing my London trip this weekend! On Saturday night, Charlotte and I (on a complete whim) bought tickets to see The Sound of Music in the London Palladium, which I SWEAR is famous somehow. I know it is the first place that the Beatles performed live on TV, but I thought maybe there was more? Anyway, it was magical (except that Captain von Trapp sort of was awful), and completely rekindled my love of all things musical theatre-related.

London!
I left Barcelona on Thursday night, immediately after my Latin Am Lit class. Unfortunately, we went on a field trip to the middle of nowhere, and I only got back to Placa Catalunya in time to catch my bus because I ran ahead of the group on the way home. I also ran across the airport to the check-in gate, where I found that the exceedingly slippery marble floors combined with my exceedingly slick black flats make for a very precarious running situation. And, just like last time I had to run to the airport, my flight was delayed. I sat next to a wonderful woman who is American but has lived in Spain on and off for the last 16 years. She lives with her daughter in a little pueblo on the beach just outside of Barcelona, and works in the city. Her mother, who is still in the states, sends them "love boxes" every month packed with US goodies that they can't get here - so we met when she turned to me and asked if I wanted anything from her giant bag of Halloween candy. Three Snickers, two Mars bars, and one Milky Way later, we were pretty much best friends. I lent her my copy of the Economist (I caved and bought it this past week because it not only had Obama, it also had a special report on Spain), we bonded over how difficult the Catalans are to befriend, and we shared the bond that only two stressed women eating chocolate together can really share.
I got to London about 40 minutes later than expected, and took a train into town from the airport, arriving just minutes after the tube closed. Weird side note: while on the train I was listening to my iPod and it froze at about a minute into "Tiny Dancer." This crushed me. I restarted my iPod, but I was desperate to hear the rest, so I went back to "Tiny Dancer," only to have it freeze again at the exact same moment! So basically I was very depressed because I had a taste of Elton but was DENIED. Anyway, I arrived at Liverpool St, David and Charlotte were there to greet me, and we began the very long and painful experience of finding our hostel. After no less than three buses, at least 40 minutes of waiting for buses, and a good 20 minutes of walking, we arrived at about 2:45 am. Char had already checked us in, and we went to bed - only to be woken again every hour by either someone coming back late or the EPIC snoring man in the bunk across from me.

The next day, David carted us around to all the touristy things, after having a delicious English breakfast of scrambled eggs, toast, and tea (oh eggs!). We saw Big Ben & Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Buckingham Palace, a bunch of parks, St. Paul's cathedral, Millennium bridge, the Globe theatre, London bridge, Harrods (where we had afternoon tea), and then we absolutely died and had to have a nap post-tea. It was all cool, but both Char and I had been to London before with our families so neither of us really FREAKED OUT at seeing Big Ben or Buckingham Palace. That night, we made a delicious salad and pasta dinner in David's building (ps I miss chopping things. Weird?), and headed home so we could hopefully fall asleep before snoring man. Unfortunately, snoring man was gone and replaced by NEW snoring man, who snored less frequently but with similar intensity. I fell asleep to the dulcet tones of Amos Lee, and dreamt of Whitman in the spring.

Saturday, we went to Notting Hill, to the Portobello St market. Although I had a mission (candlesticks for Mom!), I was cut short by the impressive price tag on all of the good ones. Antiques are expensive, it seems. The market was incredible though, with basically anything old you could ever want. At the end there were some non-antique stores and food stands, and the entire thing was absolutely amazing. I would venture to say it was the best outdoor market I have ever been to. Definitely the best antique one, because I haven't been to many outdoor antique markets. I bought a gorgeous green & black pashmina, but didn't find the ideal chunky candlesticks I had in mind. I did bullshit my way through a discussion of 1870s style candlesticks, though, with a man asking 400 pounds for the candlesticks I was pretending to still be interested in after seeing the price.
From there we went to SoHo, which is DEFINTELY where I would want to live if I were to have billions of pounds. We wandered a little and had curry for lunch (so good), before discussing where exactly all our money had gone. We walked to Carnaby St, which was apparently THE place for mod people in the 60s (can people be mod? I don't really know how to use that), but now is just obscenely crowded and posh. Or yuppie. However you like. At one end though, is the Palladium, where we were enticed by the Sound of Music, and we bought tickets immediately. We asked about prices and availability, said we'd come back, and turned around before even leaving the building and decided we HAD to go. We killed some time pre-show by heading to Piccadilly Circus and Trafalgar Square, where we had a bit of difficulty getting on the very large and slippery lions. Next we had a beer at a bar where Allison could watch the rugby game, and headed to the theatre, where Allison decided she had to see it as well. The Sound of Music just has a magical power like that. The Mother Superior was SO good, and Maria was good as well, but Georg just failed in line delivery and with his extremely nasal singing. It was the only time I have ever disliked Edelweiss. YEAH. Also, the couple next to us and their very chatty toddler had Chinese takeout and were eating it during the show! So inappropriate! It filled the entire area with the undeniable stench of noodles. After the show, we had Cornish pasties in Covent Gardens and took the tube back to West Kensington before it closed.
Another wonderful night... new snoring man - who by the way when we left that morning had been reading the paper in his bed, surrounded by sleeping people, even though there's a huge, nice lounge that was EMPTY - woke up at 4 am and started getting ready to leave, which involved turning the overhead light on and leaving it on, shaving in the room even though there is a bathroom next door, and generally making altogether too much noise. RUDE.

Sunday, we went to the British Museum, where literally the first thing we saw was the Rosetta stone. Everything else (minus Cleopatra's mummy) was kind of a let down after that. It was amazing but so so huge and we didn't have time to see everything I wanted to see, and we never got to go to the National Gallery, which is similarly huge and amazing. So basically I just want to go back to London. Museums are free there too! What is up with charging for museums? It shouldn't happen. Donations, yes. Admission, no.
We had lunch in Covent Gardens, went back to the hostel for our stuff, and headed back into town where I was told by my cab driver that trains weren't running to Stansted airport because of a breakdown! This turned out to be untrue, but certainly didn't help my Pepto Bismol-levels of stress at the time. Then I was kicked out of security for my contact solution because I didn't have a note from my doctor (airports I have declared and carried it through so far: Amsterdam, Milan, Barcelona), and I bought two little bottles which I was informed were not sterile and not appropriate for contact solution, and went back through. I got to my gate in time for final call, and made it back to Barcelona exhausted and shocked at how cold it was (55 degrees!).

My entire host family is extremely sick, and I have only three weeks until finals and only five weeks left in Spain. All of the Christmas decorations are up in the city but they aren't lit yet, so I am feeling very teased with the prospect of the holidays. Also, I went to Flash-Flash today, a bar/tortilleria where Boom writers like Garcia Marquez used to hang out when they were in Barcelona. It was all white and super mod. I think.
I'm at a weird place, because I am feeling not at all ready to leave Barcelona, but I want it to be Christmas RIGHT NOW. Going to London felt like going half-way home, since everyone spoke English and I had access to a lot more American things I can't get here, and it made me miss home, but I'm so happy to be back in Barcelona. Every time I walk to class I just die of happiness from the beauty of the city and the intense fabulousness of my life.

The Witcoskys are going to Spain!

First of all, let me profusely apologize for having gone five days without writing - I recently learned that my blog has quite the following among members of St. Luke's? Now that I know I have an audience (hey Googins) I will think more about what I'm writing, rather than blathering about my random thoughts. Although apparently those have been garnering interest as well. Plus I love my random thoughts. Also, I have been told to refrain from using the Lord's name in vain. So sorry about that. If I didn't hate emoticons so much, I would include a winky face right here.
NEXT, LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT HOW GREAT MY PARENTS ARE. They arrived on Wednesday, and I tried (and failed) to meet them at the airport at 8 am. From the moment they got here, it has been absolutely fantastic, and I don't think I have ever enjoyed their company quite as much as I do here. Not that I don't always enjoy it. Ok, I don't always enjoy it. But most of the time I do. But here, it's a million times better than it has ever been before! We have been having so much fun, and getting along so well, and eating such wonderful food, and it just makes me so so appreciative of my fabulous family and how lucky I am to be here AND that they are able to come visit me. I mean wow. On Wednesday we were able to spend a lot of the day together, when they weren't recovering from jet lag, and we had an incredible dinner of paella after about two hours of drinks and tapas. Herein lies the secret to having so much fun with my parents - we can drink together. It's like a magical recipe for success, as long as Dad keeps both feet (and no hands) on the ground. Ha, I can't wait for them to read this - it will probably be a while. Thursday I had class most of the day, but we were still able to have lunch together and then after class we explored a little more then went to Els Quatre Gats for dinner, where Picasso used to hang out and discuss cubism. After dinner, we went to the Harlem Jazz Club (Mom was very curious, after my rave reviews in past entries), and saw a funk & soul band called Groove Juice that was SO AMAZING I COULDN'T EVEN STAND IT. We walked in, and I said to Mom, "So this is my fabulous life now... I listen to jazz in bars in Spain. Yeah." Mostly kidding. But seriously. How cool am I? Today we had chocolate con churros for breakfast, saw some Gaudi architecture before I went to class, then met back up for a delicious lunch of tapas while we took cover from the rain. Wednesday and Thursday were so beautiful, 70-75 and far too humid, so even though the rain was unfortunate, I was glad the humidity had broken. Afterward we split up for siestas, and then went out for some sangria before perhaps the greatest two hours of my life: dinner at the Huerga household. The apartment was all decorated for guests - candles lit, the fancy place settings, and snacks and drinks in the living room. We had a magnificent, LONG meal in which I talked so much I hardly remembered to eat - having to say everything twice for all parties is quite the chore. But it was so much fun, and everyone loved everyone else, and it was so wonderful to see my Spanish family and my actual family together and laughing and attempting (though often failing) to understand one another. Dad used his excellent Spanish skills to say "muy bien" and "excelente" while eating, and even asked a couple questions! Mom was a little more nervous, but also did very well, and the kids all speak a little English so we got along fine. As long as I was translating. I tried my best but there are some things that are pretty hard to explain - "He asked me if he could tell you what I have told him about you" is one of those gems. That's hard enough in English, actually. Or how do you say (or should you say), "My dad says you give a pretty good stink-eye to your brothers." That's the sort of thing I'd rather not say at all, actually, but I just made it up as I went along, as I do everyday, and it seemed to go pretty well. Afterward Mom & Dad told me how lucky I was to have such a great host family, and Ana told me how much she loved meeting them and how I was so lucky to have such friendly, easy-going parents. She said she instantly felt comfortable around them and thought they were a lot of fun to have over. It was SO SO SO GREAT. I don't feel that I have a vocabulary large enough to express it - it was outstanding, magnificent, divine, fantastic. Or "so so so great." However you like.
Among the other highlights so far:
1. Accidentally convincing Dad we should go to Las Vegas this Christmas to celebrate my 21st birthday.
2. Dad saying "perro grande" to every big dog we saw on the street.
3. Discussing how Bill Schweitzer would be an ideal one-of-my-first-legal-drinks companion (but on second thought, why not ALL of Christcare?!?).
4. Dad saying "Who is Gaudi again?"
5. Dad wearing his Ashland hat. (Pictures to come)
6. DAD ALL THE TIME (sorry Mom, I love you, but you're less entertaining - you know what I mean)
7. Explaining things I hardly thought I knew until I started explaining them.
8. THE GIANT PILE OF REESE'S PEANUT BUTTER CUPS THAT THEY BROUGHT ME
9. Can't deny it; having them pay for things.
10. Asking my mildly inebriated father about the economic crisis and learning about it in (an appropriate amount of) depth for the next 40 minutes.
11. Who am I kidding? Groove Juice. And the fact that my parents are cool enough to like it too.
More to come. This weekend we're going to Girona, a historically Jewish town outside the city, and Figueres, Salvador Dali's hometown. Then maybe a flamenco show? And they're off to Mallorca... so sad. But then next weekend we're going to Berlin, where MOM has to do all the translating! It's times like these when I seriously can't believe my life is real.

I love the Netherlands! Who knew?

SO. Amsterdam was AMAZING. First of all, it is gorgeous and filled with canals, adorable little buildings, and approximately nine billion bicycles. I had no idea how cute it would be! Second, it has amazing food and a lot of variety in cuisines. Third, the people are extremely nice.
Jane and I arrived Friday morning and immediately began the greatest travel itinerary ever: wander around until you get hungry, eat, and repeat as necessary. We had an amazing salad with avocado and without dressing - I was pretty much sold from that moment on - and followed it up with a piece of chocolate cake. And yes, my retelling of this trip will primarily revolve around the food. Jane and I got to catch up and chat all day long, see random sites we knew nothing about, and eat all the time, so it was basically the ideal trip. After our salad/cake/coffee, we wandered around the downtown area and saw some old buildings, the national monument, that famous flower market, a book market, and some other old stuff. We then stopped again for a raspberry tart and more coffee (I had an orange juice, but it had a fly in it. I drank it anyway), more chatting, and then more walking. We accidentally found the red light district, and found ourselves very put off by the women in the windows, and made our way back to the hostel for a nap before we braved the Amsterdam nightlife. We went out to dinner at an Argentinian steak house and had the best meat I have had since leaving the states, along with empanadas, french fries, and Malbec. Outstanding. We explored a little more and made friends with a hilarious bartender whose wife was Scottish (it was very obvious from his accent - also he swore like I have never heard a non-native English speaker swear). Jane tried to learn some Dutch from him, and then he was sort of mock-offended because he thought she was saying Dutch was easy? I don't know. We explained that we meant to do it out of respect, in an effort to learn more about the place we were visiting, and he said (something along the lines of) "You know what's a better way to do that? Learn something about the history of the country before you get there. Better than just saying dankevel [or however you spell it] to your bartenders." It was all in good fun though and he was great, slash the Slovenian at the bar liked us too and bought us drinks (awkward? A little, because he was 40). We found lots of great food on our way home - pizza, more pastries, and Toblerone - and then slept long and hard the next day. OH ps Jane took all the pictures of this weekend, so you'll just have to wait for her to send them to me.
Then on Saturday we got Dutch pancakes for breakfast, went to the Anne Frank house only to decide the line wasn't really worth it, and went to the sex museum instead. It was intense. Then we wandered around downtown again until we found a flea market. From there we slowly made our way towards the Van Gogh museum, stopping anywhere and everywhere that looked pretty (and taking about nine hundred pictures posing in front of canals), and probably eating again - yes, I think we bought some truffles at a chocolate shop. On our way to the van Gogh museum we found another big market, wandered through it as well as through a nice restaurant area, and then finally to the museum itself. Unfortunately all this wandering was incredibly taxing (it's a rough life we lead), so we went a little further to find some lunch, and stumbled upon the fashion district, where we had a very swanky lunch next to someone who I think was famous. He was being interviewed at the table next to us, and then went outside and posed for some pictures in the street, and several people stopped him to say something. Anyway, that was very exciting. We split a delicious sandwich and then had warm croissants with butter and jam... oh it was so good, but the entire weekend we were always full and always conscious of the fact that we were at minimum quadrupling the recommended daily caloric intake. Then on to van Gogh, which was great (slash sooo relevant to my art history class), and back to the hostel for our nap. We are really into the Spanish schedule. For dinner, we got a recommendation for a Thai restaurant from a random hotel we saw that day, and had THE GREATEST MEAL EVER mostly because I have been craving Thai for quite some time. From there we tried to go out to dessert but failed because the cake shop we had seen earlier was closed, so we just talked for another two hours (and literally made the people next to us move over when we were laughing - very loudly - over Tina Fey's Palin impression) and made it back to the hostel. In the morning we got bagels (another scarcity in Spain) and went to the airport, and now I'm back at home where it is warm (unlike FREEZING Amsterdam). Ana had a little afternoon party with all of her siblings (of which she has six) today, and made chocolate con churros for the occasion. OH MY GOD. All thoughts of Amsterdam melted away as I sat at the table, enjoying the warm breeze from the window, dipping churros in delicious chocolate and listening to her brother-in-law argue with her brother about the social security system in Spain. One of her sisters asked me if I would come teach English to her kids for an hour a week, and I said I would love to, so that should start soon (and she'll be paying me! Won't that be fun). So even though Amsterdam was so great that I would seriously consider living there, I'm already so happy to be back in Spain and in general just so contented with life (and gastronomically satisfied) that it wasn't even a downer to leave such a wonderful city. TWO DAYS UNTIL MOM AND DAD ARRIVE! Get excited.

I almost have a routine!

Six weeks down - which means only ten to go! Christ. That's not at all ok with me.
This week was less exciting than most, mostly because I was coming off my Milano high and getting pumped for Amsterdam, so Barcelona was great... but really feeling like an interim. Classes - mere formalities for the four days I am in Spain. I also had my first test of the semester, in my Spanish class. I finished really quickly, which worries me slash confirms my suspicions that I am awesome at Spanish. Or overly confident. Whatever.
On Wednesday, rather than remember that I had several Skype dates scheduled, I went to MACBA (Contemporary Art Museum... Barcelona... Art) and lost myself for (I kid you not) three hours in only one exhibition - the main collection was all that was open, since they were changing the other exhibits. It was really cool, and I liked a lot of it. I was also weirded out by a lot of it. For instance: the video of a candle burning, then a shot of that burning candle being held to a man's nipple. On loop. There was audio, but I didn't feel the need to pick up the headphones - oddly enough. And a full length film (I watched maybe 30 minutes) which made so little sense that I can't describe it in sentences, only in a series of phrases: people in primary color ponchos, men in leather pants whipping themselves, bearded women, little people, gravel mountains, drugs (that one wasn't involved in the movie itself, but I suspect was involved in the making of it).
That evening, I made some friends come with me to Harlem Jazz Club, where Caracola, a rumba band, was playing. They were really good, but not as fantastic as Meztuca. I really need Meztuca to play again. I'm trying to stalk them, but they appear to not use their website as often as I use the internet. But it was a really good show. Mostly I just want to delve into this wide world of la rumba catalana as much as I can. I also went to Harlem last week with some other people, and saw a REALLY cool jazz group - I can't figure out who, since all the website says is "Red Bull Music Academy All-stars," but they were so cool and the guy on the vibraphone(? - not so good with the terminology here) was INCREDIBLE slash so intense. They all just kept playing, and then randomly (probably not that randomly) soloing, and then one person would set down their instrument and go grab a drink or a different instrument, and then someone else would come over and pick up the one they had left. There were about seven people total, shuffling through who was playing. Then after a break this adorable tiny British woman started singing over recorded tracks - she was pretty good but nothing in comparison to the band. Then they all started slowly coming back up and playing with her - first the drummer, then the guitar player, then she yelled "we need a bass!" and someone came and played that, and there was someone djing over all of this. It was crazy good. AND they drug this random woman out of the crowd and made her rap over the whole thing! It all just seemed so spontaneous - I'm sure it wasn't, but it did look very impressive. So that's the story of last Thursday - then I informed the group I had to go home to watch the VP debate. Which I did, from my bed.
Tuesday night I actually fell asleep, headphones on, clutching my laptop, in front of the debate. I was determined to make it until 3, but I sort of forgot that it only started at 3, and would go until 4:30 or 5... so I was really tired. I didn't have class until 2 the next day though, which was very lucky. Also, to stay awake, I watched Top Gun, which I hadn't seen before, and OH MY GOD it is so great. Yes, I am in Spain.
In other news, I am going to Amsterdam in 9 hours. Very exciting, slash also means I won't be sleeping a lot tonight. But who cares? I'M GOING TO AMSTERDAM! WITH JANE! I am really excited. Mostly for Jane. But I hear the Netherlands are cool too. I'm trying to think if I did anything else cool this week. I really love my art history class. We're doing post-impressionism right now, and I actually know who both Vincent van Gogh and Paul Gauguin are, so I'm feeling more accomplished than the first week. Not a lot. But a little. I seem to remember some educational comic book about van Gogh dreaming that the paints he was buying were food. So I'm taking that to mean he was poor. Which was confirmed in class today! I hope you all know I am (mostly) kidding about my complete lack of art knowledge. I mean, I don't know much. But I do know about van Gogh. Aaaaaaanyway, we're reading Jimenez in my poetry class, and Borges in my Latinamerican lit class, and learning about Lebanon in my Islam history class. I feel very cool right now. Did I mention I went to a jazz club last night?

[Update:] Oh my god I had to edit and say that Ana is the best cook EVER. We had baked salmon with potatoes and roasted tomatoes, and asparagus and mushrooms. And then pomegranate and yogurt for dessert. Ugggggh food baby.

I ate a bunny today.

We had rabbit for dinner the last two nights. It actually tasted pretty good. Also we had croquetas tonight which are definitely in my top ten foods list. Not a lot to share, except that I ate bunny (which is the sole reason for this post), and that the weather is fantastic. I can't even talk about it. It's around 75 and sunny, with a little breeze, all day. October is like a whole new month here. My classes at UPF are still a bit confusing, but I'm getting a handle on them. And I'm going to Amsterdam with Jane this weekend! Then Mom and Dad come next Wednesday. Life just looks pretty great right now.

The ultimate comfort food

SO today I was just craving something - I couldn't figure out what, so I assumed it was chocolate. But my chocolate ice cream didn't quite cut it. What could it be? I figured the ice cream was too icey (it was sort of a gelato/ice cream hybrid), and didn't pack enough chocolate punch, so I tried a chocolate croissant and also some nutella and bread. Nothing was doing it. (Also this is a great example of my self-restraint) So I turned to water, which actually often satisfies those weird cravings. Still no answer! Then. Ana was cooking dinner, and what did I smell? Yes. It was broccoli. The same smell that I used to think was cheeseburgers, night after night. For dinner, we had meatballs, mashed potatoes, and broccoli. It was as if Ana has some sort of glandular-telepathy and knew exactly what I was hankering for all day long. The greatest comfort meal of all time. Except that in a perfect world, it would have been turkey meatloaf; but I'll take the Spanish equivalent, which is meatballs. Wow. It was perfect.

Also, I realize everyday how much I love organization. And despise the lack there of. Mom and Dad are probably laughing (quite loudly) together, reading this, because they know the constant state of my bedroom, but I am referring more to structural organization, like in a class. The syllabus is perhaps the greatest thing ever created, and should be required everywhere. I like knowing my homework for next week, and when my tests will be, and when my papers will be. And also, in classes where the professor's words aren't always the clearest, it would be nice to have in writing a schedule which clarifies the modes of evaluation for the class. Will we have pop quizzes? That would be weird, since we don't seem to have reading. Also, my UPF classes all have "suggested" reading. What is that? Are we expected to do that? I guess I have to, but for each one it's like 5 or 6 full books. When exactly am I supposed to do them? The point of this anecdote is that I am not very good at the learn-at-your-own-pace sort of class. I like being given specific assignments - I think this ties in with my love for math, which has questions and answers, not interpretations. Anyway, enough psychobabble for the moment, I have to go read Jorge Luis Borges and also figure out who this "Rafael" character is that apparently changed the world of art. WHATEVER.

Spain and I kick some collective ass.

UM, life is fantastic.
First of all, we have these delicious little sweet bread things (and I mean that like a bread that is sweet, not like animal innards sweet breads) for breakfast which make me warm inside because they remind me of Costco dinner rolls (ohhhh dinner rolls) but with a touch of honey - basically it's magical. I had a REALLY weird weekend, and so I am very glad that Monday is off to such a KICKASS start. My weekend: On Friday night I went over to Stacey & Danielle's to watch the debate (which aired at 3 am). In order to stay awake, we listened to some awesome Spanish band, watched Palin's interview with Katie Couric, and tried but failed to watch the Colbert Report. We went to a nearby bar (I secretly hate them for having cool stuff in their neighborhood - mine is really nice and has good cafes but is very residential so there are very few bars or activity at all after midnight) and had ONE beer before racing back to watch the debate. We had it going on the CNN live feed (on two different computers, because one or the other kept cutting out) and on the tv, but the tv one was dubbed so that wasn't so useful. Stacey made homemade patatas bravas to keep us going until 4:30, at which point I decided it was better to sleep on their couch than try to brave the NitBus with my current state of exhaustion. In the morning (read: 1pm) Danielle made us tofu scramble and potatoes, and I went home to shower and face the day - but ended up just facing the internet as I tried to figure out my mobile phone plan. It took me literally two hours of wading through the Spanish and English versions of their website to figure out my plan, if I wanted to change to a new plan, and what the differences and costs all are. Basically I feel like I'm spending a lot on my phone and want that to change. Aaaanyway that night I went to a concert as part of the Indian Festival (lots of Viva Krishna going on) and then out with Danielle, Stacey, Laura, and her roommate Laila, but went home at a decent hour (3am) in a totally sound state of mind. THEN. The weirdest thing ever. I slept straight through until 6pm. I didn't wake up once in 13 hours of sleeping. WHAT THE HELL. I have no idea what happened but I assume I must have been sleep-deprived or sick, and I don't feel sick at all. Anyway, that was really weird and stupid because I wasted a whole day sleeping. It was lucky I fell asleep at all last night.

ON TO THE KICK ASS DAY THAT WAS TODAY: I got up with my alarm (this is an event in itself), had a delicious sweet roll and some Cinnamon Toast Crunch (viva Espanna), and WALKED to UPF. I knew this was possible, since I have done it on my way home twice already, but I wasn't sure about the timing or the best possible path. Well, it was a beautiful clear morning, sort of crisp but not cold, and the walk took me only 22 minutes, whereas the metro takes 25. Besides, it goes right next to the Parc de la Ciutadella and the Arc de Triomf, so it is a gorgeous walk, and I sort of accidentally met up with a growing group of students on their way there. It was so great. This must be what it's like to go to college in a city. FANTASTIC. Anyway, I had my poetry class which was great, except that apparently I was blind to the number of foreigners in it last time - there are tons. I was literally surrounded on every side with Americans. We're reading Ruben Dario and talking about modernism, and I just love love love it so far. Except it's hard to just listen to the poems - I like to see them as well. But she was reading some aloud that aren't in our reader, so they were harder to follow. On the first day, she read one aloud in French, then said, "Is there anyone who doesn't speak French?" As if that was only a slight possibility. Several people said they didn't, so she read the CATALAN translation. Um... not helpful. Anyway. Back to today. I really like this professor, and wish she would stay with our class at least until the actual prof gets back - she said it'll probably change though.
THEN I went to the dreaded Islam History class, plunked myself down in the front row, drank a coffee from a vending machine (50 cents! And not half bad - ok so I don't really know coffee but I just wanted the caffeine for the sake of my attention span), and readied my pen. As if the first day had been nothing but some horrible nightmare, I understood nearly everything he said! (In case it wasn't clear, that's why I kick ass.) I love the front row. I'm sitting there every day. It was also very interesting, because we were talking about the time when the Sunnis and the Shiites (Sunnitas y Chiitas, if you were wondering) separated, and the European Christian perception of Muslims at the time (and how it has lasted oh... 1400 years). So that was GREAT.
Next I booked it to IES, grabbed my bocadillo de chorizo on the way (2.60, cheaper than last week and more delicious), and went to castellano, where I discovered that the seemingly unending por/para lesson has actually never stuck with me, and my homework was nearly all wrong. Then we planned the interviews we will be doing next week, and talked about what we don't like about Spain (to practice phrases from interviews such as "Odio que..."). I contributed that I hate waiting in lines. It's crazy how I'm so used to lines that are all about speed, where as here the checkers will be talking to their friends, or doing their nails, or just generally being slow, even when there's a line of 20 people. It took me 40 minutes to wait in a line of six people on Friday. Other contributions included the rude people on the subway and the street noise - which personally I feel are just city complaints, not specific to Barcelona complaints. You can't really blame Barcelona for being a city. You could say you don't like cities. Someone also said "How the Spanish students hate Americans" which our professor immediately contested. What? Why do you think that? No, they're just not as hyper outgoing as you're used to. They don't hate Americans. What do you say to them? Do you talk to them? Oh, well see, if you say "Que tal" that doesn't mean you want to talk, that's something you say in passing. No one would stop and talk to you because you said que tal. And so on and so forth - this should give you a good idea of the general flow of our classes.

Anyway, the weather today is STUNNING: 70 degrees, minimal clouds (just enough to be cute and look poofy without blocking the sun), and a crisp, clean feeling in the air - I just love fall. Especially WARM fall! What a concept. I mean, it rained last week, but it isn't raining now! Basically this is just reinforcing my sunshine = Prozac theme of life. Tonight I am going to a cooking class, where we will learn to make paella, tortilla de patata, gazpacho, and crema catalana. And then we eat it all! MY GOD WHAT A DAY! I love Barcelona.

[Update:] Oh, cooking class was a magical experience. The woman was fantastic, and had a few of us do each dish, staggered, so we could also all see what was going on. I helped make the crema catalana, which was basically a lemony creme brulee (amaaazing). We served the gazpacho in double shot glasses with aioli and pesto, and grated cheese on top (to look like a cappuchino - sort of) and it was the best gazpacho I have ever had. No contest. Then the tortilla, which was as good as Ana's, which ranks it as tying with the best tortilla I have ever had. We ate it with pan con tomate, which is just toasted baguette with garlic, tomato, olive oil and salt. The combination? Again. Orgasmic. Then paella with chicken, peppers, beans, tomato, onions, garlic, saffron, all that goodness - incredible. I can't even talk about it. At this point I was so full I thought I might die, and then we had the crema catalana. Which she bruleed. It was the best meal I have had in Spain, and I have all the recipies, along with restuarant recommendations. Hands down, the best 20 euros that have ever been spent on education.

COMIDA or, My love affair with neverending eating

Having just finished an outstandingly large almuerzo, I feel it is appropriate that today's post center around food and eating. Jesus Christ, they eat so much. I am in all honesty lying down rubbing my belly between typing right now, and concentrating on belly breathing. Our Spanish teacher laid out the eating schedule for us like this:
8-10 Breakfast
10-12 Second breakfast (usually coffee and/or pastries, or a little sandwich)
2-4 Lunch
5-7 Meriendas (afternoon snacking - she said she usually has a bit of cake or other pastries, but obviously tapas apply as well - but tapas continue into the night, until 9 or 10)
8:30-11 Dinner
So as you can see, it is a five-to-six meal day. And these are not small meals. Lunch is the main meal of the day, and at a lot of restaurants you can order from the menu del dia, which has a couple options and comes with bread, a drink, and dessert, for about 8-12 euros. The menu del dia comes with two courses, both of which are the size of a typical American entree.

Today I had gazpacho (about three cups worth) and baked chicken (an entire half of a chicken, plus about the same volume of potatoes), with a beer, yogurt for dessert, and bread. I ate and ate and ate, only had one little piece of bread and very little to drink, and still could only make it through about 2/3rds of the chicken and maybe half of the potatoes. The waiter asked me if there was a problem with the food. I tried to explain that it was so delicious that I was in danger of vomiting it up on his shoes, but he didn't appear to be convinced. It really was fantastic - the gazpacho in particular was really good, and the chicken was greasy and falling off the bone and amazing. But no, the fact that I can only eat about three cups of gazpacho and a third of a chicken is not good enough. I was studying for my ser/estar quiz during lunch today so I stayed at the restaurant for a while and watched the guy next to me eat an entire plate of paella, four pieces of bread, three glasses of wine, the entire half-chicken, and all of his potatoes, and then order a piece of cake which he was gleefully digging into as I left. I have no idea how they do it. This was no overweight guy, either, he was actually in good shape.
Lunch isn't included in our "meal plan" in homestays, so I have to eat it out or buy groceries with which to make myself lunch. I think Ana would probably make me lunch anyway, but I would feel bad since I'm not paying for it. I like eating out though, because up until today I had thought that there wasn't anyone to offend if I didn't emphatically lick my plate clean. Turns out the waiters think you're anorexic, though. Also, I can't eat out that much because even at the cheaper places, 5-8 euros a day for lunch adds up.

Mind you, even though lunch is the main meal of the day, dinner isn't exactly a light snack. It is also two big courses, with lots of little side things to be snacking on (and if I don't snack on them, Ana thinks I either hate the food or her). A typical dinner at the Huerga household:
Green beans sauteed with potatoes and covered in olive oil
Bread
Tomatoes in olive oil
Two hamburger patties served with fried potatoes
Lays potato chips
A piece of fruit
Yogurt and/or a little chocolate bar
And again, each of these portions pretty much fills your plate, or else you will be accused of lying about liking the food. We have also eaten lots of tortilla espanola, which is amaaazing, and lots of salad that is again, always dripping in olive oil. As someone who doesn't like salad dressing, it's kind of hard to get used to, but I'm adjusting. And inflating. Paula also said that Ana makes really good chocolate (a really thick hot chocolate), and that one morning we will have homemade chocolate con churros. I'm excited, but it seems like a pretty heavy breakfast food if you ask me.

On to tapas, my favorite topic ever. I don't know who decided that snack food isn't restaurant food, but they were so wrong. This is a concept that needs to spread to the US, and I mean immediately. To be able to duck into a cafe, bar, or restaurant in the late afternoon and order a few shrimp, or a slice of tortilla, or olives, or croquetas is without a doubt the best idea ever. Think how much more restaurants would make if they were able to serve little munchies all throughout the day. And I don't mean a gross bowl of nuts at the bar, I mean GOOD food. Ha ha, sorry, I'm really into wikipedia. As always. I introduced David to the joy of patatas bravas - fried potatoes with a spicy red sauce and aioli, and to tortilla espanola, which we found at one restaurant with chorizo in it too! Basically, I just spend all of my money on little delicious tapas. You can even go healthy and order vegetables like asparagus or a salad. All I'm saying is that everyone loves to snack, and putting it in restaurants would mean tons of profit for the restaurants and way more delicious gourmet ways to eat. So... I love tapas. Also, since tapas really go best with sangria, we should probably make that more widespread in the states too.

For breakfast, I usually have some sort of cereal (my options thus far have been Corn Flakes, Special K (red berry or chocolate), and Cinnamon Toast Crunch) and a glass of juice or water. Then after class I find myself starving and end up having coffee and a croissant. What I'm trying to say here is that I eat all the time. Special K Chocolate is the grossest thing I have ever eaten for breakfast, as chocolate is really not a morning food (any other time of day though, it's alright by me), and the combination of whole milk, chocolate curls, and crunchy flakes just doesn't do it for me. It's very overwhelming for the morning.

The other fabulous thing is that people really take their time with meals. I don't know about breakfast, because I usually eat it alone and in under three minutes, but all the other times the meals never take less than an hour - even when it's a cup of coffee or a soda in the afternoon, I see Catalonians lingering over their six ounce beverage for much longer than I am usually sitting there, which is rarely more than half an hour, and that includes the time I spend waiting for the waiter to take my order, bring my food, and bring me the check. All this time there are people sitting and talking with (for instance) a half-drunk Coke in front of them.

So in general I am loving the food, although I feel like olive oil is going to start seeping out my pores (if it hasn't already). It's really good and although it can be humongous, every time I feel like I am going to explode slash never eat again (like right now), I find myself inexplicably hungry again three hours later. Maybe it's all the walking? Or maybe I just can't say no to more delicious Spanish food.
To do: Go to Andalucia, the home of tapas, and snack the night away.
I should've had some paella while in Valencia, where it was created, but all I had was the weird hotel paella. Maybe I will just have to go back! Or maybe I will go down to Barceloneta and get some good paella here in Barca.

Now to go sleep off this food coma - I suddenly understand why they schedule a siesta into the day, because I can hardly move after lunch.

host family!

Oh my god. I could not have asked for a more perfect living situation. Granted, it has only been 3 hours, but already I am in LOVE with them. Ana is the mother, and she has three children, Gonzalo and Pablo (or is it Paulo?) are 13 year old twins, and Paula is 18. My room is GREAT, their apartment is not only amazing but also in a fantastic location - I'm less than two blocks from the metro and the bus, and in a great neighborhood. And everyone is so nice! Paula, Pablo and Gonzalo all took me to get a new phone (my Argentine one didn't work, even with a new SIM card), and now Ana is cooking lunch (which is good because I'm starving), and she is so wonderful and welcoming. I understand them really well so far, except when they talk really quickly to each other. They are also doing everything they can to help me learn about Barcelona, including Gonzalo telling me that I can't cross the street when the light is red, and making me practice using the keys, and showing me around the neighborhood. I'm just so happy to be here, and to have a great host family!

I went to the IES center this morning to find out who my host family was, and I got my orientation schedule and all of that. We're going to Valencia this weekend, and I have orientation things starting on Wednesday - including placement tests - we'll see how that goes, since I am definitely still in mental summer. Ok well that's it for right now - I'm sure I will be back for more later.

So far the meals have been humongous and delicious, but mostly humongous. For lunch we had green beans and potatoes, hamburgers, and bread, followed by fruit, yogurt, and chocolate. Dinner was tortilla de pata (potato omelets, sort of), spaghetti, bread, ham, cheese, and the smoked salmon I brought, followed by more fruit, chocolate, and gelatin. Also, I completely passed out after lunch and ended up sleeping for FIVE hours. Oops. I am still adjusting to the schedule, I guess - it was impossible to get up this morning at 9:30. Impossible. I barely made it out of the hostel in time.