Adéu

Tonight is my last night in Barcelona. I leave early tomorrow; my taxi comes at 8AM. I spent my last day as I normally would: Rising late, strolling in the 73 degree sun, napping, spending my last euros at Zara, overindulging in an undeserved seafood dinner, and of course, in true Barcelona form, sleeping way past my bedtime.

"I have learned how to live.

How to be in the world and of the world and not just to stand aside and watch.

And I will never, never again run away from life."

Will complete my last few updates, most likely bored, from 12 Ginnie Lane.

La Barceloneta

Didn't even realize it was almost 9pm; the sun never stops shining.

"I want to step out down the Champs-Élysées..."

Oh, Paris...

A clear day

The Lourve

Parisian in the Park

 How I got my news of the historic weekend...

Giverny, where Monet spent his later years

Aspiring artist at the Musée Rodin

Sunny afternoon in Montmarte

Mom feeling the love

Charming

My late birthday meal at Chez Julien

En Casa

Settling back, with a handful of friends States-bound and an uncharacteristically empty apartment, it's time to crack open the books for finals. If you didn't realize I am taking a 'full' course load here, neither did I. Since this past month has been non-stop, and most of you reading know that ultimately I'd rather be painting my nails and watching a sitcom on NBC, I've been enjoying my indoor escape this week. After a break to retrieve my never-drying laundry, I realized how much my room has become my home away from home.

Speaking of home, tomorrow I meet los padres in Paris. Au revoir!

Italia i San Marino

What was supposed to be a quaint, solo 10 day Semana Santa ended up being quite the opposite, with old friends and new friends joining me as I went. Few plans, no hostels booked, and a one way ticket to Venice didn't deter Megan from coming... even though we ended up sleeping in a single room in a bed smaller than a twin, which was even harder to fit on after our first day's consumption of a 24" pizza, two bottles of wine, pizza numero due, black ink spaghetti, and two gelatos each. Someone introduce me to some vegetables, please.


Venice
Inevitably touristy, the crowded multilingual, camera flashing crowd almost adds to the city's charm, making quieter, deserted streets that much more remarkable. There's something special about being with thousands of other visitors in a city that's doomed to the sea.
With the absence of any form of transportation aside from boat, Venice is inherently unique. In place of motors and blaring horns is a constant lull of conversation and occasional bellowing laughs. In Barcelona, New York, Rome, you'll never hear the clinking of glasses, a cat's meow, or the crunch of a gelato cone.

San Marino & Rimini
If you meet a native of Italy, hold on to them and never let go. Three days of full [FULL] homecooked Italian meals, no real obligation to sight see, and a relaxing time with friends filled with movies, bad music, driving around, and brushing up on my Italian.

Florence
After some emotional see-you-laters, it was off to meet old friends. Maybe it was the pizza, the weather, or the gelato, but I already can't wait to return. Highlight: As per a fellow blogger friend's restaurant request, Marco and I split the Steak Fiorentina for two after a tiresome day of biking through the Tuscan hills. The rarest steak I won't soon have again. If only I hadn't forgotten my camera to document all 30 ounces.

Now for the photo overload:

Neglected my camera a bit too much, thus a generic shot of the sinking city

While Tommy prepares breakfast...

Rock walkin' in Rimini

Personal tour guide & castle

While Tommy prepares dinner...

I don't hate it!

Pizza and lemons. I spy Ross!

Green shutters of Siena

Marco's pink laces and locks of love

After a stop in Pisa, the only thing that came back to Barcelona thinner was my wallet.

The Circus at Ciutadella Park

Spring is when the crazies come out...

 

In this gem of a city, Parc de la Ciutadella is where dreaded mullets and corporate crew cuts come together to enjoy Sunday afternoons-- acrobating, running, tree-climbing, boating, napping, cartwheeling, footballing, you name it. While local hangouts are hard to unearth and tourist attractions obstruct afternoon strolls, the park is a perfect marriage of the most local locals and most pickpocket-worthy tourists. Lovers sharing a joint, school children sweating through their uniforms, nosy pigeons poking at your spillings from Bo de Bi's, and kites flying high over the cranes of Sagrada Familia are some of what make up the ambiance of the crowded grassy hills.

When the men with plastic bags selling beer for a euro ["Cerveza, agua, beer. Cerveza, agua, beer."] start getting hard to ignore, walk a few blocks to Barceloneta and pick up a 3€ bottle of cava rosada, Catalunya's inexpensive version of champagne, at the bustling La Xampanyeria. Uncork and enjoy-- the acrobats become even more entertaining.

Leave the iPod at home-- the WiFi will be too tempting-- and listen, enjoy, and breathe in the Barcelona circus.

"Jagged Mountain"

Didn't know what we were in for when we started our hike up Montserrat, a sacred mountain on the outskirts of Barca, but the hard work was well worth the views... and the reminder of what exercising feels like -__-

 A four-course meal at the Pasta Bar [Carrer dels Escudellers 49] to end the day [and start the night!]

Word of the Day

Otorrinolaringología

the branch of medicine that specializes in
the treatment of the ear, nose, and throat.

 

Still practicing to get this 'trabalengua' [tongue-twister] down.

75 and Sunny

Coming out of a whirlwind of weekend trips, the most recent being to Madrid and Toledo, I couldn't have chosen a better week to be settling back in Barcelona:

I've realized now that the initial shock is long over, I've been leaving my camera at home way too often. That will change this week as I celebrate my first sunburn of the season! Pictures to come!

Is it a crime...

...to order an American breakfast in Spain's most "Spanish" city?

Finished our weekend trip to Sevilla with a stack of pancakes I won't soon see again. Couldn't resist!

Trippin', in more ways than one

Time is slipping fast, and at this rate, there is only time for so many more entries. I admit, I have been horrible about updating, especially about the Spain outside of Barcelona I've taken some weekends to enjoy... From the sumptuous palaces of the Alahambra in Granada to the colorful facades of a rainy Girona, the more I explore this country the thought of traveling outside becomes less and less appealing.


Valls

  The culture shock in Barcelona is nothing compared to that I experienced in the sleepy, unapologetically Catalonian town of Valls. Visiting for the day for the Decanels Casteller Festival, which happens once a decade, I've never felt more foreign or unaware as my Castilian Spanish barely got me by in this town that prides themselves in their rich Catalan identity. The tradition (more like sport) of the Castellers, or human towers, is one of the most fascinating things I've ever seen. At the height of the day, 50 teams racked up their members all around the square simultaneously, the cherry on top being the four or five year old racing to the top of the surprisingly sturdy towers. Personal space is not even suggested in this sport, body parts becoming mere stepping stones in creating a structure that encompasses the Casteller motto: Força, equilibri, valor i seny [Strength, balance, courage, and reason] A perfect representation of the sport, the Catalan culture, and well, life in general.

 Tarragona

Roman ruins to the left/breathtaking coast/obstrusive poplar

Full bangs matching a full heart

Granada
1 glass of wine & 1 tapa in Barcelona: 8€
1 glass of wine & 1 tapa in Granada: 2€
I have a feeling I'm not in Barca anymore...

Tortolitos enjoying the view

With every drink bought, a plate of tapas comes gratis in this city. I ate and drank far too well, building friendships and experience with every tapa ate and every glass of vino tinto consumed under an undeserved 70 degree sun. Highlights: orange trees lining the gorgeous architecture of the Alhambra, a 4 hour lunch with the best company, suffering for fashion walking on endless cobblestone in unsupportive footwear, powerfully sweet Middle-eastern pastries. And the views! As you can tell, I still fail to capture the spotlight with the Sierra Nevadas and la Alhambra as a backdrop.

Sitges
¡A celebrar carnaval!

Photos were abundant. The faux hawk made a valiant return. I was a zombie in more than one way [on Fat Tuesday, and in class on Wednesday morning]

Valencia

A visit from the brother came at a perfect time to celebrate in the sister's study abroad home! This past weekend was Las Fallas, a celebration of fire and burning I won't begin to try and explain. But every year, huge [huge.] structures are built throughout the year and promptly burnt to a crisp above a crowd of thousands, some dressed in traditional attire, all enoying warm churros dipped in melted chocolate while 3-80 year olds let off fireworks in the street. My ears may never be the same again.

 Girona & Figueres

 “This grandiose tragedy that we call modern art.”

If only I brought my camera on this tumultuously rainy excursion. Though the horrible weather did detract a little from the beautiful town of Girona, nothing could put a damper on the amazing Salvador Dali Museum in his hometown of Figueres. Arriving back in BCN with ruined boots was well worth it.

 

This extensive post may be in bad blogger taste, but so are my adventures! [Being extensive! Not in bad taste ;)] The two month mark is quickly approaching, as are new entries after my coming trip to Sevilla! Hasta luego.

"January, month of empty pockets!"

Seeing as I've run out of Duane Reade bags, I write this as I wait for my hanging laundry to dry after a fight with the washing machine that left me with sore forearms, squeezing out the extra water the spin cycle failed to do itself. My next adventure will be hanging my clothes out the windowsill, though looking down, dropping a sock would be a gift to Hades.

A month has come and gone. It flew by, and it's been rocky, as can be expected. Just when I was about to reach the point of overwhelm, last week I woke up to start my day at the corner cafe-- an unremarkable little place without a name. I opened the door to find the barista with the cool bangs and effortless hands setting down a cafe con leche and croissant at my favorite table. "Como siempre, no?" Yes, like always.

Since then, it's been smoother sailing. I've started to ignore a few loose ends that I've finally realized may stay undone indefinitely. The one thing I'm having the most trouble with is the whole school thing-- it's been difficult forcing myself to act like a student. It is a nice change of pace, though, to have school revolving around my life rather the other way around.

My very pensive, brilliant friend back in New York once told me that it's all about finding a balance; an equilibrium that allows both work and play, confusion and clarity, solitude and good company. And though the latter may be hard to find, I can't complain. I've always been spoiled with an oversupply of wonderful friends, yet notoriously need my alone time. Here, the most important thing is not falling into the trap of loneliness, which can easily be turned into solitude with the right book on the right park bench. A flat full of friends has been a world of comfort despite our differences-- religious, political, geographical, cultural-- whatever they may be, laughs conquer them all.

Continuing to find more ways to love Barcelona, with its aversion to dreary days, preference for risky fashions, and naps over work. Even though the tapas at Sagardi may never replace Bleecker Street Pizza, I'm welcoming any competition over the next few months.


Updates of recent travels to come!
Meanwhile, take a look, vale!

How to be Sick in a Foreign Country

Blame everything on the water. Swear that you never get sick at home and ignore the fact you’ve stayed up till 6AM three nights in a row and devoured close to an entire jar of Nutella over that same time span. Go to the pharmacy and explain your symptoms as best as you can.  Grow suspicious that the pharmacist is giving everyone in line the same exact thing and buy ginger ale instead.  Steal your roommates’ Emergen-C, which is suddenly like the treasure of One-Eyed Willie.

Skip an entire week of classes and worry that there is now zero hope of passing them. Pretend to be sicker than you actually are so you can’t muster the strength to do any of the work that’s already been assigned. Act as if watching films illegally makes you feel guilty, and express this sentiment to your roommates. Lay in bed thinking that it will never feel as luscious your bed at home. Ignore the fact that your bed at home is too firm. Groan audibly. Skype your mom.

 Slowly regain the ability to walk around without the risk of collapsing from dehydration. Pretend you are fine so you can eat the fajita your roommate makes. Feel sicker.

Repeat all necessarily until health returns.  Never get sick again, well, because you never really get sick in the first place.

Two Weeks and 1 Small Wardrobe Later...

I have two options for tomorrow:

1) Figure out the 1930's washing machine.
2) "I'm wearing a Duane Reade bag as underwear today."

Thanks for the idea, Liz Lemon.

A Winter Meal

In Barcelona, paella and tapas are not typically on the menu if you can evade the tourist traps. This past Friday, rather than fending for myself in my small, green, rickety kitchen, I got to experience a traditional Catalan winter meal in the nearby town of Sant Cugat. Trekking through a muddy forest was not kind to my brand new shoes or my growing hunger, but the scenery and fresh air were a welcome distraction.

I couldn't do this meal justice with words (still trying to find my blog voice!), so here are some pictures. Enjoy!

Neighbors with picky tastes left this entire plate para mi

 

Ashy remnants; how we ate the in-season calçots (leeks)... Messy!

The rabbit's head (teeth and all!) deterred my already waning appetite...

Buen provecho!

"Isn't My House Classic?"

Finally settled! Writing from the top floor of that middle building in my charming, 1920's apartment in el Barri Gòtic [Gothic Quarter] of center city Barcelona. The neighborhood, the oldest part of the city, has as much charm as Greenwich Village. Also being one of the busier parts, I have everything I need from the easy-to-navigate metro stop [no need to worry about local/express lines!] across the way and about four H&Ms in every direction.

I’m still trying to come to terms with the fact that I’m not simply visiting, which hit me hard this morning when I woke up starving with no groceries! So it was off to the market. It sounds strange, but food shopping in a foreign country is much more intimidating than it sounds. Finding Catalonian counterparts to my regular food run in the States will take some experimenting. Eggs still have feathers on them and shrimp comes whole [including eyes!], so for today, I stuck with pasta :) This doesn't mean I haven't branched out: yesterday for lunch I ate a fish I never knew existed as part of the "menú del dia."

Classes don’t start until Wednesday, so I have a few days of exploration I can do on my own—I just have to wait for it to stop raining! Even though it’s been a little bit of a rocky start [i.e. attempted pickpockets, the Catalan language to parse through, horrible sense of direction exacerbated by tourists asking for directions] that’s to be expected! On the up side, a good set of 4 roommates hailing from Wichita to Budapest is making the transition a little bit smoother.

Pictures to come, I promise. Right when the weather clears up and I get over my camera shyness.

Barca Bound

In one week I will be bidding farewell to the biting Northeastern cold for the more mild, Mediterranean climate of Barcelona, Spain. Just using this last week to pack, eat the pizza I will miss dearly, and ferociously reading my guide books.

Since the only Barcelona I know is Vicky & Cristina's, I wanted to share my experiences and [mis]adventures as I carve out my own slice of the city over the next few months. I just hope the home of Casals, Gaudí, Miró, and Dalí are ready for me!