Tongue-tied

I am happily sitting on the San Pau campus, eating my apple for lunch and reading my Mediterranean Politics homework (you have no idea how hard it is to actually do homework right now) and this sweet little old man with a newspaper came up to me. He asked if he could sit next to me, speaking rapidly in Spanish and complaining about how his other bench was in the sun. The only way I knew how to respond was to smile and say, "Hace calor," or, "It's hot." This prompted him to begin another rapid speech about forgetting his hat...I think.
Either way, I had no idea what to say to that so I simply smiled. Smiling seems to be one message that gets across to people, no matter what language you speak.

Post About Italian Food: The Sequel. (someone here has a problem...)

Italians eat their bread with olive oil and salt. Not my favorite way to do it, but it always tasted good.

An Italian salad. Two types of cheese, ham, corn, tuna, olives, tomatoes...clearly I avoided the latter two items, but it was delicious nonetheless.

Dumplings. I didn't order these, but I got to try them off a friend's plate. They were really tiny and she got about 20 of them for her meal. They were actually quite heavy and I was only able to eat four of the little guys...shameful.

AGH HOW DO I CHOOSE?! 

 Obviously, I choose canole.

Oddly enough, this random place with a really good pizza and soda deal ended up being my favorite pizza; it was formaggi, or four cheese, and I couldn't get enough.

Gotta end it with the gelato. This particular flavor was my favorite (after experimenting with several others). It is amarena, or cherry, but it was really creamy and light. 

Post About Italian Food

My first gelato in Florence! Doesn't it look glorious?

The best ravioli I have ever tasted at a restaurant a few blocks from our hostel, called Il Portale.

This dessert was so cool. They brought it to you and then set it on fire, and when the flames went out it reminded me of a thicker, more caramel-flavored version of creme brulee. 

Saturday morning breakfast. This croissant had chocolate pudding in it. I didn't drink the latte; that was my friend Esther's. But I thought it was so cute and little I needed to take a picture.

Our Tuscan style lunch. We tried wine made right there at the winery (my favorite was Don Tomasso, the expensive one to the right) and had pasta, salad and something made with barley.

This spaghetti was also amazing, eaten a few blocks from the (fake) statue of David. The real one was inside a museum and you had to pay to see...we were satisfied with the pretend him.

Basically a donut. Chocolate filled, again.

Descubriendo un castillo

          On Wednesday, September 5, I had my first real day of classes, where I made it to each and every one on time (give or take) and felt successful in each one. My schedule is a bit crazy on Monday and Wednesdays, with 4 classes, but I don't mind. I think the hours are going to fly by. I fell in love with my Modernisme: Architecure Explained and Sketched class. My professor is very kind and intensely passionate about art and expression. A good 50% of the course will be spent in the streets of Barcelona, crudely sketching the architecute around us. He doesn't care about skill. He just said, "Enjoy it, that is the most important thing," in a lovely Catalonian accent. But my favorite moment of the entire class was when he compared Gaudí to Edgar Allen Poe. He said, "It is hard to tell whether they are crazy, or a genuis. But there is something good in them, something that makes people go back to them a hundred years later."

     I adore Edgar Allen Poe. His work is so twisted, morbid, raw and painfully honest that it is impossible to turn away from. You can feel his struggle to understand himself through his horrific stories. I believe the best form of creation comes from when a person is struggling. My best poetry, albeit I am not a poet, emerges when I am confused and angry, sad and lonely. It is in those moments when you need to grasp onto the emotion and put it on paper before it escapes you.
    After classes, I went to the welcome dinner AIFS had. It was at a resturant called Milk, tiny and buried in an alley straight out of history books.

      As we walked home, we stumbled upon a hidden jewel, one of many in Barcelona. It was a castle.  It is mind-boggling to me that enormous pieces of history and beauty are nestled among metro stations, pay phones and parking spots here. Barcelona is an active marriage of the old and the new. Modern buildings surround ancient structures, and history lives in the movement of right now. I love that I am in a place where dark, aged beauty lives harmoniously with modern technology. Oddly enough, the two do not clash.

     

Post from a bench on my campus

So here I am, blogging away because once again I was wrong about what time I needed to be somewhere. I am sitting here with my iPod before I have a meeting to change my Spanish class. I am excited to get in a routine and not be so confused soon. However, campus is beautiful and it's a pretty day :)

Poco a poco

Little by little, I am changing. 
        It occurred to me as I was lost and confused for several hours today that this lifestyle is more than just a cultural change for me. I am living in a new country, with a new language and traditions, but beneath all of that is the simple truth that Barcelona is a city. I hadn't thought about that when I chose to study abroad. I can't even go into Boston without a buddy and my first time flying alone was 2 weeks before I left for Europe. Assumption is a gated college and it takes roughly 7 minutes to walk to the other end of campus-and that's walking comfortably.
       Barcelona is alive, with people, cars, scooters, bikes, dogs, all constantly moving. There is graffiti on the wall outside my room and the nearby apartments have laundry hanging from their windows. I take the metro to class. There are 3 pizzerias, a supermarket, a bus station, several cafes and 2 fruit markets within a 3 minute walk from the front door of the Residencia, or residence. Also a clothing store and the metro station is less than a mile away-cross the street, go up a block, walk for a few hundred yards and you are there. In Charlton, anything and everything is the standard 20 minutes away. I am a small town girl who moved to a small Catholic college less than a half hour from my house 2 years ago. Now I am across the ocean in one of the most culturally rich and alive cities in the world. The energy pulses through the streets here, any hour of the day on any street. I don't feel history here yet. I feel innovation and change, creativity and color. Barcelona, for me, is a step into a world with a very modern and healthy look at the future. Modern because of the architecture and the diversity, healthy because of the culinary culture and relaxed point of view.
      Before I came here, I had a picture in my mind of what a Spaniard would look like. Tall, dark and attractive is what I expected. Very fashionable and someone I would be able to look at and know where they came from. What a close-minded point of view I had; ignorant, really. But how would I have known? I have barely ever left New England.
     There is no one word or type to describe a Spaniard. There are Caucasian, African, Asian and Indian people everywhere in this city- all speaking Catalan. I am embarrassed to say I was shocked to hear an Asian speak Spanish. There is a magic to the diversity. I wonder, when people look at me, where do they think I am from?

¡Fue un milagro!

It was a miracle I made it to class at all today. For starters, I thought it started at 11:00 am. Not true. I didn't understand the timetable, so I was peacefully sleeping when my class actually started, and peacefully walking for about 10 minutes before I realized I was lost. My internal GPS appears to be as accurate here as it is at home. Thank you, Mom, for the innate sense of direction.
         Being stubborn, it took me quite a while to admit to myself I needed to ask someone for help. Not being comfortable with Spanish, it took me even longer to actually flag someone down on the street. The most amusing thing is that as I roamed aimlessly in circles, a sweet little French couple came up to me and asked me for directions. I heard their French accent but assumed they were speaking Catalan (Catalan is the local language, a mixture of Spanish and French), so I tried to speak a little Spanish. Eventually the woman asked if I spoke English, and we were able to communicate. Her husband was shocked that my English was so good.
Despite my perfect English, I was no help whatsoever in directing them to the tourist office and Plaza de Catalunya. Just their luck they picked me to ask for help...poor people. I hope they made it.
         As for me, the woman I chose to plague with my desperate pleas was a very nice Spaniard. She was sweet, however her directions were useless-she brought me to the wrong University campus. But she was also the best part of my day-we spoke in Spanish the whole time and she was surprised when I told her I was de los Estados Unidos, or from the United States. That was enough to pick my spirits up a little.
      As I stood confused in front of the wrong campus, I spotted someone from my study abroad program. He took pity on me and walked me to the correct building, L'Eixample. In I went, finding my classroom and entering roughly 2 and a half hours late. Talk about a good impression.
     But all things happen for a reason. As class went on, I was talking comfortably with my professor. That random woman on the street who had understood my Spanish had really changed how I felt about my abilities. Up until today, I had barely spoken to anyone outside of hola, gracias, si, and está bien (it's fine). When we go out in groups, Spaniards either avoid us or use a little bit of English since we are clearly American. If not, there are 3 girls in the program who are fluent in Spanish who have been translating for us. But I was by myself this morning and I had a full conversation with a native who told me my Spanish was good for being from the States. Thanks to this, I did well on my first day and am now switching Spanish classes. I tested into level A.2, but the professor signed me up for B1.2. Quite the jump. Oh boy. In headfirst I go.

London Adventures: Day 2!

We were all super tired, but we got up and headed out for a 3 hour tour of the city's highlights. As we drove around and left the bus periodically to take pictures, I was amazed by the architecture. I was prepared for Barcelona to have pretty buildings, but many of the structures in London are ornate and detailed, all exactly how I imagined the city to be in stories like Oliver Twist and A Little Princess. I think I just hadn't imagined the streets and places to still look like that in modern day. Statues and carvings were so detailed and ornate; archaic but the whole city made sense. People are rushed and streets were crowded, but everyone was very nice; friendlier than New England.
        The trip to London was a nice transition period into Europe since it's an English speaking country. It was interesting to hear the dozens of different versions of a British accent. My own voice, if loud in the States, seemed clumsy and overpowering around all the light, pretty accents I heard around me.
        I also found out that London is not one city, but a collection of cities, such as Westminster. And that when you enter London, there is always a statue of a dragon facing you. When you leave, a statue of a dragon will have it's back to you. The entire place was so rich in history. Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, St. Paul's Cathedral, St. James Park, Buckingham Palace, the statue of Prince Albert...all amazing landmarks I was fascinated by.
      One of my favorite moments of the whole trip was standing across from Westminster Abbey. Our tour guide said the very spot we were standing on was where the press filmed Kate and William leaving the church after their wedding. I took this picture and was so thrilled to think that great reporters and so many news stations from across the world covered that story, balancing cameras on their shoulders and preparing their questions right on the sidewalk I was standing on. World news would be so exciting to get in to.

     After the tour, we all split off. I made some friends and we went to lunch at a French place called Pret A Manger, which was actually really cheap and delicious...Chicken Caesar bacon sandwich mmmm. Then we went to the National Gallery, with amazing paintings, and to the British Museum, where I saw the Rosetta Stone. The best part: all the museums were free!
       Later, we rented bikes (yes, I did it! No helmets were provided and I didn't even crash!) and rode them through Kensington Park to the palace, where Kate and William will live. It was the perfect time of night and riding through the park was so relaxing. I felt very British (ha!).

That's the palace behind me and a statue of Young Queen Victoria to my left...although unfortunately her head was cut off in the picture! 

Basically, London is now on my list of places to go back to. I still want to see the Tower of London for the Queen's jewels and I want to spend more time exploring the city. 

London Adventures: Day 1!

Well, after landing in Heathrow, we took a bus for about to hour to the Lancaster Gate Hotel. To our dismay, the rooms were not ready yet. Also, Wi-fi in the hotel cost 14 pounds a night. So naturally we headed to Starbucks to send emails and check Facebook.
Oh, Americans...

My First Foreign McDonald's Experience
Everything really is bigger in America. I got a quarter pounder with cheese, fries and a medium soda. Here is what it looked like: 

The fries weren't as addicting and the bun was way too small for the burger, which didn't even make me feel gross afterwards. Food, cars, streets, sodas...ultimately, people were smaller in London. The McDonald's itself was really cool. Very graphic and modern.

Getting Locked in Kensington Park

My favorite part of the first day was Kensington Park. It was beautiful as the sun was setting; the moon was bright over a small pond with swans and there were no street lights, so the trees were dark, symmetrical and beautiful. We enjoyed the park so much that we kept walking and talking, strolling slowly and enjoying the peace. Until we realized that every gate we were passing was locked. With visions of climbing the fence and risking arrest, or spending our first night abroad sleeping on park benches with hobos, we started to panic. Don't worry; we did get out. There was one main gate open at the far end of the park. They really should put up signs...Oops! 

Side Note: crossing the streets in London is dangerous. In less than a day I almost got hit by a car and a cyclist. Also, I spent most of the bus ride wondering why all of the streets we were one way, until I looked out the windows on the right and saw cars in the opposite direction. Crazy. 

(Airplane) Food for Thought

I had my first meal in the sky on the flight from Boston to Heathrow. What an experience that was. They hurried up and served dinner so we would all fall asleep...not that I did, because airplane seats are the most uncomfortable seats created (except for dentist chairs). The food wasn't terrible considering it came in little wrapped packages, but in hindsight, I should have gone with the cheese lasagna instead of beef with rice. Questionable meat. Bad life choice.

However, while dining I watched the man in front of me get drunk to fall asleep. Which brings me to my point. Is there a drinking age in the sky? I was coming from America, where I was not of legal age, yet I was on a British airplane, and I would be legal in England. Food for thought.