Barthelona

Hello everyone.

First of all, I’m sorry I haven’t posted something sooner, but it’s been a busy first week and a half. Second of all, Barcelona is exactly what it’s cracked up to be.

The city is beautiful. Coming soon to Facebook is a “streets of Barcelona” album that is just pictures of… streets of Barcelona. Pictures don’t even do it justice. I’m not sure if it’s because of the fact that the Olympics were held here or because Catalonians hold there city to a higher standard, but American cities just don’t compare. Here’s a teaser…

That’s another thing. Catalonia is not Spain….

The reason I chose to use a picture of graffiti is because Barcelona is littered with graffiti.

Despite what I’ve been telling everyone, Catalonian is NOT “Spanish with a lisp.” I learned that the second I walked off the plane and saw three COMPLETELY different languages on every sign; Catalonian, Spanish and English. I think about 1/3^rd of the words are the same between the two languages. Most people here speak both, but they’re very proud of their Catalonian heritage, and they prefer to speak in Catalonian. I dunno, I’ll figure it out.

That’s another thing. I’ve determined that my life’s motto is “I’ll figure it out,” which maybe isn’t the best way to go through Barcelona. First of all, “I’ll figure it out” doesn’t work for directions. I went to the supermercado the other day (which is one block up and six blocks over) and I got lost on my way back. Speaking of which the €9.50 ($12.13) full chicken I bought at said market probably went bad  in the time I spent trying to find my way back to my residencia. SPEAKING OF WHICH, I can’t cook. Period.
 

I didn't have a knife so I just tore the tomato in half.

I got a bunch of crap for telling my floormates that I make a wicked jello dish, so I decided I’ll redeem myself by cooking a mean chicken. Details will come in my next post.

Overall, my floormates in my dorm and program-mates as a whole are all really cool. Georgetown and Elon (Univeristy in North Carolina) are well represented. The rest are scattered across (mostly) the east coast. There are four Wisconsin people here, but since none of the locals have ever heard of Wisconsin, I’ve started telling them I’m from Pasadena. It works out until they start asking you questions about it (Local: “PASADENAAA! How far are you from the beach?” Me: “… About 45 minutes, depending on traffic……. But it’s worth it for those California girls!” *share a laugh* *crisis averted*).

Anyways, here is a short recap of my trip so far…

I touched down around 9:30 am Barcelona time. seeing the city from the plane was when it really hit me that I was leaving all my friends to go to a city where I don’t speak the language (I didn’t know at the time that even if I learned the language of the country, there was no way in hell I would be able to learn the language of the city). This was the first time I felt anxiety about my decision to study abroad.

That night, a few of us explored the city a little and ended up at a small bar called Thales, situated in a sketchy ally off of Las Ramblas. (Las Ramblas is basically Barcelona’s state street, except it’s three times longer and is littered with food shops, gypsies and prostitutes.) Here we learned that while drinks are expensive in Barcelona, they’re much more alcoholic and much bigger. The margarita beer we each had did some damage.

Day 2, we took a bus tour of the city. That’s when my anxiety pretty much went away. Everything in Barcelona is picture worthy. Every street, every building, every mountaintop view...

I have a bunch more that I took on other people's cameras. More to come.

Like I said, pictures don’t even do it justice.

Later in the day, we moved into the residencia (dorm hall). I started unpacking and meeting my floormates, and everyone was commenting on how small the rooms were. I found that strange, because my room had more than enough space. Between the full-sized bed, desk, and personal bathroom, I didn’t have a problem. However, I found out a few days later that I have the handicap accessible room, so it’s about twice as big as everyone else’s. Part of me feels bad, but the other part of me likes being able to fit comfortably into my shower.

View from our rooftop. From bottom to top: pool, city, Mediterranean Sea (which is 9 blocks from our residencia).

That night we were all introduced to the Barcelona club scene. One of the local students who works with our program took us to a park to pregame at around 10:30. As it turns out, drinking in public areas is illegal, so when cops came he quickly ushered us… to another park, where we continued to drink. About three hours later, we walked to Opium, a dance club located right on the beach. Whatever you’ve heard about the nightlife in Barcelona is true. I left earlier than most people (around 3), but usually people stay out clubbing until 5 or 6 in the morning. As long as you’re prepared to drop €14 on a mixed drink, €9 on a beer and €5 on water, you’re set for the night.

The next few days we tried to get all our partying in before classes started on Monday. This included another club, drinking on the beach until a 6 am McDonalds run, and an Irish (but actually American) bar on Sunday to watch football. We also found a huge bar two blocks from the residencia, which has been a staple most nights here. Even if we’re not going to clubs, every night here has been fun.

Chris gloating after the Niners win. We were the only two people from our group that stayed for the whole game. True fans.

Unfortunately, classes start at 9 am for everyone. It’s only one class, but it’s three hours long and it’s completely in Spanish, so mornings have been rough. I feel a little outmatched in my Spanish class, but after I got rejected from switching down to intermediate, I’ve decided that forcing myself to take a harder Spanish class will pay off. Unless I get bad grade, which is irrelevant to most people here because they’re grades don’t transfer (yes, I’m very bitter).

But classes were cancelled last Tuesday, Sept. 11^th, for the Diada Nacional de Cataluña. Apparently, Catalunya wants its independence from Spain. Every year, tens of thousands of people march down one of the main streets to the arc de triumf, where they proceed to have a party until 4 am. And the Catalonian flag is prevalent everywhere…

All day, everyone you saw was draped in the Catalonian flag.

The flag was gigantic. Don't let the wind fool you.

They even had a famous Catalonian band playing. Barcelonians know how to protest.

This really only scratches the surface of my time here. A full recap would probably be twice as long. I’m going to try to be better about posting more frequently, but there’s too much going on here to be typing up blog posts every night. All I can say is if you ever get the chance to visit Barcelona, take it.