*tears*

Well, it's coming to an end... and, consiquently, I've been walking around the city for the past day or two with misty, misty eyes. Nope. this time it's not allergies. I can't believe that my journey came to an end so quickly! Where did all the time go?! I've been telling people that I'm leaving in about two months for the past two months, but when I looked at the calendar while deciding which day to head over to Madrid to visit friends... I came to a sudden and shocking realization.

Friends and Family in Barcelona (and Europe): Thank you for the beautiful time we've spent together. Please take care of yourselves. May you be blessed in everything that you do, and that we may see each other again on day in the near future.

Mommy, Daddy, Crystal and Bryan, and Grandma and Grandpa and the rest my friends and family in the USA: I can't wait to see you all soon. I have missed you more than words can describe and am now filled with joy at the prospect of hugging and kissing you all again.

Well, Europe has become more of a home than I could have ever imagined. With out meaning to sound a wee bit dramatic, my heart feels as if it is torn between two very distinct but beautiful places.

That settles it then... I'm just simply going to have to return to Europe one day, and you're all going to have to come with me.

Shooting Nikki

Alright, alright, alright! Before you guys FrEaK out, the title is totally figurative. Yesterday before small group, my friend Nikki (a musician in the symphony here) ran around for about an hour snapping head-shots (because one should always update pictures, at least, every 5 years). The weather was fantastic, and it was SOO wonderful just being outside in the cool evening air. Oh wait, actually, it was kinda hot. Anyways, we had fun... and now that I’ve gotten some practice shooting someone, I’d kinda like to do it again... any takers?

Calling all photographizing friends: suggestions, tips, and tiddly-bits of the factoidal variety are welcome.

OH! I’m going to Madrid tomorrow. Takin the high-speed train. Woot!

¡Viva la música!

Hey! So, it looks like you guys are going to get a “two for one” today. I’m feeling quite blog-a-licious. It happens. Anyways, I just got back from the Palau de la Música Catalana a few hours ago. Four of my friends and I headed over there this afternoon to listen to an afternoon concert (which started at 7pm... phew!). The music was all in Catalan or Spanish (or by Spanish composers) and was incredible. I loved it! The Hall was beautiful, and I took some pictures (even though there was a picture vigilante running around (grr.. the flash was off!). You can check them out here:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=23073&id=1323450019&l=4bc52ed0fd

Oh! I believe there are some museum and small group photos in there, as well. The paintings were done by Sorolla in the early 1900’s and are a representation of each of the different regions in Spain. They are normally in NY, but were shipped over to the MNAC (museo nacional del arte de catalunya). What luck! All of the paintings are MASSIVE and beautiful, and I am sooo grateful they allowed photos.
Right after the museum trip, I headed over to small group (20’s and 30’s group from the church) and, well, had a camera handy so I took a few pictures. Enjoy!

Feria de Abril

I know, I know! It’s May, and I’m writing about something that happened in April... I believe this is an instance where my British friends would tell me to stop being a “skiver” ... but I’m still very shaky on the meaning and usage of that...Anyways, Thursday... yes, LAST Thursday, my friend Anna took me to the Feria de Abril, a celebration of all things Andalusian, down at the Forum near Diagonal del Mar. It was AWESOME! Flamenco dresses were walking around everywhere, and people were dancing like there was no tomorrow! The amount of music was absolutely overwhelming! ...they even began stereo wars of tunes that could easily be compared to “campesino”... er... EDUCATIONAL! It really was an amazing time, and the more I walked around, the more I thought about friends back home who would die to get themselves into some of those dresses. You know who you are!

Hmm... I got mistaken for being German again, but I’ve come to terms with it. I would say it’s like getting in touch with my roots, but sadly... well, I’m not German. Haha! I had just told Anna that many people had been mistaking me for European, when a shop holder walked up and asked me if I was. I just slowly turned to my friend with a frustrated but humorous expression, and she crumpled up laughing! Good times =)
OH! this is random and a bit of an old story, but! I went to Mont Serrat with Anna to visit her family for the Pascua, (which was incredible!) and bought myself some chocolate up on the mountain. Now, the reason why, was because it’s made by the monks and is absolutely famous in this area. And what happened when I tried it? Why, thank you for asking! I put some in my mouth, and the words “my GOD!” escaped my lips. Yes, it tasted that divine. I pray I get the opportunity to bring some home as a offering of my gratitude, but Alas! I’m afraid I won’t get the opportunity to make the pilgrimage back again. Are you groaning yet? Because I can keep this up for a while!
Right, I’ll spare you... Toodles!

Ode to the small bottle of “All” detergent I brought with me...

Oh, bottle of All,
Though you be quite small
You have saved me from pain
And social distain.
Your super-concentrated viscosity
Quiets all feelings of animosity
Against the stain-laden clothes
That are ravaging my nose.
From undies to jeans
You fight like Marines.
And leave me singing
(Only to be silenced by neighbor’s pleading.)
Oh, tiny little friend,
On you I depend.
The end.

La Leyenda de San Jorge

As told by Michellie...

Once upon a time, in the lovely city of Montblanc... er... somewhere close to Tarragona (fine, just google it), lived a group of people. With a booming demographic of 15% male (due to lack of clean water, demands of physical labor, malnutrition, and occasional battles with the neighboring villages), 20% female (including widows, wives, sisters, old maids, hags, witches, and maidens) and 65% livestock, the population was economically well situated and content. Then one fine and beautiful day, much like today (unless it’s raining... then not, quite the opposite, actually), the King of Aragon (no, I’m not talking about LOTR, I’m talking about Spain) rolled into town with his entourage, including, but not limited to: knights, servants, slaves, soldiers, the captain of the guard, ribbon dancers, musicians, a jester, two bards, and the princess. Tired and dusty from the journey, they decided to stay the night (and serves them right, too. Tarragona is a lovely little seaside village). After bathing in the ocean, they tucked themselves into beds inclosed but lovely maroon and gold embroidered tents. I would insert a contented sigh, but such was life.
The next morning, they awoke to quite a ruckus: 15% shouting, 20% crying for mercy and ducking for cover, and 65% bleating, neighing, bolting, wildly mooing and overall and in general freaking out. The king rubbed the sleepy from his eyes and proceeded to investigate the situation (while still in his nightgown, but hey! He was a king of action, not fashion). He ran from person to person, person to animal asking, any and all who appeared to be competent, for an explanation to the massive panic that was sweeping the population. Finally, one cow calmly chewing its cud, pointed its empty eyes in the direction of the city gates. Taking the advise rather seriously, the king proceeded in the recommended direction. There he encountered a mass of manly-men attempting to fight off a dragon that had suddenly taken up residence at the gates. ‘Well, this is a bother!’ He thought to himself. The endless arguing, taunting, and fighting seemed to do little to move the fire-breathing beast from its perch atop the draw-bridge, so the king opted for some diplomacy. Hey! it had worked in the past... sort of...
“Mightily green and, or scaly one! Why hast thou maked a nuisance of thineself and blockéd the gates?!”
“I’m a touch hungry, well... I was before. But, am I allowed a scrap of goat? a bit of dog? NO! Therefore, to save your city from my raging flames, I demand one maiden to satisfy my hunger. She must be beautiful, nice, well-educated, and a little plump... I like ‘em juicy. Anyways, you have exactly three days to satisfy my demands, or I will roast your town and consume you all.”
“Oh... that’s... harsh.”
“Yep. Talk to the claw, see who cares.”
Mildly put out, the scantily clad king returned to his make-shift tent and began to contemplate the events of the morning. Realizing he had close to a legion of soldiers with him (well, it was considered a legion at the time. Army inflation... the terms for the numbers have changed. It happens) he began to plan a skirmish on the dragon. That afternoon, the soldiers made their move. They fought, clashed, banged, cracked, and occasionally freaked, but all to no avail. The dragon’s scales were impenetrable. Devastated, the towns people began to search for acceptable women that met the requirements. They searched high and they searched low, heck! they even tried padding! but, no one could meet the standards. Finally, the king came to a depressing realization: his daughter was a maiden, beautiful, very friendly, witty, and a little round around the corners (if you know what a mean *nudge, nudge*). While he broke the bad news, she listened silently... dangerously silent... He cringed while he waited for the response. Slowly, thoughtfully, she said, “I understand what you tell me. Though your soldiers may not be able to protect me, I believe one will appear who can. I will go to protect the city.” And with that, she packed a bag and headed off to meet her doom.
She arrived at the gate at sunset on the third day of the siege. The dragon looked her up, and then looked her down, approved, grabbed her and then ran off to a cave to have some dinner. Once high up in the mountains, he built a fire, put her into a pot of water and said, “just simmer... I mean ‘sit’ there a while. I’ll be back.” Mournfully, she obeyed and began to sing of her woes.
Meanwhile, a knight, riding through the countryside (in between jobs) heard the beautiful dirge wafting from the cave. “A MAIDEN TO SAVE!!,” thought the knight. As he approached the cave, the dragon returned with arms full of herbs, and whistling a traditional dragon folk song. The knight quickly put two and two together and ran to fight. “With this rather long and pointed spear, I shall defeat you!!!” He then dashed to the mouth of the cave. Right before he reached it, he tripped on a rock. Surprised at his own lack of coordination, he face-planted . Though his career was virtually over in his mind, an interesting thing occurred: the spear had flown from his hands at the moment of the fall, had gained enough velocity in the air to be projected at an arc high and long enough to reach the dragon, and had, consequently, penetrated the steel-like scales that had confounded the other knights and soldiers. The dragon, shocked and still gripping his herbs, fell to the ground dead. From the gaping wound the spear left, boiling blood flowed. Once it mixed with the herb, that had fallen to the ground, the turned into scarlet roses.
Picking himself up off of the ground, he ran into the cave to tend to the princess. There, she was sitting in the pot (which had reached Jacuzzi temperature) enjoying the relaxing bath. She saw him and was, slightly embarrassed, but mostly immediately taken. She dressed (out of sight!) while he cleaned himself up. On the way out of the cave, he picked up a single, scarlet, and molten hot rose. It burned to the touch, but cooled once it was placed into her delicate fingers. “this is a sign of my protection, princess.” he softly remarked.
Once within the city, the king, overcome with joy, offered the hand of his daughter to the knight. “No,” replied Jorge, “for though she is beautiful, I desire to continue on with my adventures and to continue to protect the countryside until the end of my days.”
And with that, he rode off into the sunset.

Vall de Boí

Well, I had a lovely time last weekend running around in the Pyrenees mountains with my study abroad group. After exploring Romanic era churches, we headed off to the hotel to relax a bit. As we drove into the parking lot, I noticed an ancient looking bell tower across the street, and immediately decided to run over and check it out. While walking around the sleepy little town, I heard... well... sheep. They were quite noisy and coming from a very distinct direction, so over the river and through the wood I went looking for the source of the comical noises. I made it as far as the bridge and then stopped. From my view point, I was able to watch as a group of ranchers, from the community, called their sheep in to dinner, faithful dogs but their side and all! I began snapping some pictures (of the branches, not of them) to entertain myself (and have a decent excuse to sit there and watch them). After their work was finished, they began filing out of the sheep fold. The last man, wobbling a bit on a walking stick, to leave stopped, looked me up and down, and then said in a weather-worn voice, “so, you’re a tourist, eh?” haha... “yes”. “German?” ... “no” “interesting...” At that moment, his dog acme over and immediately pushed its head onto my leg. I got the message and began stroking its fur. “Ahh... she always spots the nice ones...” “What’s her name?” “Rubia”. Though “scratchy” might have been more appropriate, the dog and her owner were absolutely adorable. The weekend was relaxing, and the photos turned out awesome. Check it yo!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=22278&id=1323450019&l=943cefff87

C’est Manifique

Alright... first off... I apologize. I should have given you this link earlier and totally spaced. So! Mom, before you jump off of the pop-culture bridge, here are the photos:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=21213&id=1323450019&l=0b2f9ea022


*phew* narrowly rescued from the clutches of the might Red Social that is sweeping the world. (You think I exaggerate? oh-ho... I do not!)

Anyways, I think I left off when I had just arrived in France and met up with my friends. We had a lovely “tea-time” at a cafe just below the pope’s palace (yes. THE pope) in Avignon and then proceeded to where the car was parked. From there, we headed off to a supermarket/shopping mall that would put “stuffmart” from Veggie Tales to shame. We shopped a bit (...er... followed his mom around and got lost in the dog food section looking for BBQ coal) as I chattered away about... everything (the kind of verbal spewing I tend to do when excited).
From there we headed over to the car in the parking lot, and to our surprise (well... more my surprise than anyone else), Thomas’s younger brothers had succeeded in nagging their father into buying a soccer ball for them. Awesome! And best of all, there was a lovely field not five minutes from where we were staying. SWEET! So, we played soccer (futbol) the second we got settled into the house. Noticing that my English (and dependance on the mercy of my friends speaking to me in English... I really should have keep up the French lessons) was a bit uncomfy for my hosts the first day, I attempted to branch out a little (very little) and learn some words and phrases. One of them came very naturally. While we were playing soccer, I asked one of the boys how to say “that’s awesome” (more or less) in French. After a few seconds of chattering amongst themselves, they came to the decision that “c’est manifique” was as close as they could come up with off of the top of their heads. I meekly repeated it after them, making the rather rookie blunder of pronouncing the last syllable of “manifique”. (kinda came out like “manifi-queh!”) ... they giggled and then corrected me. So, that began a long and very interesting series of confusing encounters with my friend and his brothers. If you haven’t already said the word “c’est” in your head, or hear it spoken by a french person, it sounds a little bit like the English word “say”. And, by “little bit,” I actually mean “exactly.” For the next few days, whenever something interesting or entertaining would happen, one of the boys would look at me and say “c’est manifique.” Makes perfect sense on paper, but when one’s mind is being slightly scrambled by attempting to understand a Romance Language one has barely studied... it tends to register as something else. In my case, I heard: “say ‘manifique’!”, and took it as a command for me to say the word out loud (to check pronunciation, possibly?)... to which I responded, “manifique.” At first the boys would look at me a bit confused and then laugh, and I would get touchy or defensive, thinking that they were laughing at my accent; when in reality, they were actually wondering why the heck I was repeating every thing they said to me after the word “c’est” (meaning: that is). This continued throughout the week until we were seated at the dinner table of Thomas’s girlfriend’s family's house (*phew* that was a long strand of possession!). During a conversation about nuclear fusion, the phrase “c’est manifique” popped up (I’m not exactly sure why... I don’t even have the vocab to talk about nuclear fusion in English!), and in front of about eight to ten incredibly intelligent people, I turned to Thomas’s brother and said, “NO! I will NOT say ‘manifique! You can’t make me anymore!” ... once again, silence filled the room and all eyes were on me. After his brother looked at me with total confusion etched into his face and gently asked “what?”, I suddenly came to the realization that I was misinterpreting a French word for an English one... and had been doing so all week long. I could have died, but I didn’t. After the bursts of chuckling dissipated, we moved on to other activities. The evening was actually quite lovely. Good food, great friends, and an even better language blunder. Almost as good as the time my British friend asked an American for a rubber... which I guess means “eraser”... awkward. And, another story for another time. Speaking of which: more to come!

Love you all!

Trains, trains, and automobiles (what?... I'm too poor for planes)

As promised, I’m slowly tickering away at the computer; attempting put together a smattering of stories from this past week, and I’m finding it difficult to choose... So much has happened that feels newsworthy! Okay, okay... where to start... Right! The train ride: that was an adventure (you can read some mild sarcasm into that if you would like).

Okay. Confession: I bought a Eurrail Pass (it’s essentially a company that sells days of train travel, instead of individual tickets, to American tourists. The idea is that you can pre-purchase your means of transportation in advance, all in the same place, and save a little money while you’re at it) and as it’s a ticket sold for European trains by an American company to Americans... no one here knew what it was. Naturally. So, after consulting a variety of people at the University and church, and turning up zero information (not much is available on the internet, as well... FYI) I headed down to the train station to try to figure out how to use the dang thing. Well, that and I needed to find out when trains left from the station, and to make a reservation... and to clear up the rumors I had heard, reguarding station closures, that had been circulating the University (França was very much open! Well.. media distancia was having some work done. But, the international lines were not affected... whatever). Point being: I had to take care of some business at the station, and looking things up online was just not cutting it. So, I played hookie on one of my classes (unintentionally... it took way longer than I expected) and chatted with a woman from RENFE at Estación de França (lisp at will... go ahead! try it. It’s fun). I had done enough research with the timetables and at the national french railway website that I wasn’t entering the ring a total moron, but I still knew zip about trains and even less about my pass. So, when I told the woman behind the window that I wanted to go to Avignon Centre, and she said “you can’t”... I was a wee bit surprised. “What?!... look... it says here (flipping wildly through internet print outs and timetables) that I can go from Barcelona to Montpellier to Avignon Centre... I want that train.”
Ignoring my somewhat extensive research and well-founded thesis on the timetables of April 4th, she replied: “Our train only goes to Narbonne. You’ll have to take a bus from there. Sorry.”
*exasperated sigh* (Ironically, “tranquila” was scrolling on one of those digital light up boards above my head. RENFE must be accustomed to this sort of conversation.)
“Can I use my pass on the bus?” *pushing Eurrail pass towards her*
“I don’t know” (of course not!) “You’ll probably have to buy a separate ticket.”
*meeeh!*
“Okay, don’t worry about it. Just give me a reservation for the last stop and I’ll figure it out from there”
“The last stop is in Montpellier. You can’t catch a train from Montpellier to Avignon.” *pushes her own print out towards me*
“What?!” *looking dumbfoundedly at my timetables and maps* “Well, in any case... I’d like the reservation for the train until it reaches Montpellier.”
“I think it would be wiser if you reserved until Narbonne” (this is where a mixture of translation from Spanish to English and from spoken language to type takes something away from just how richly exasperating this whole business was turning into. Just imagine me when I’m on lack-of-sleep mode and stressed out about trying to figure out an unfamiliar process through trial and error... and ACTION!)
“Okay... fine... Narbonne it is then... And, can I have a return trip, please?”
“From where?”
“Montpellier”
“You mean, Narbonne?”
“...Sure”
*flurry of ticket stamping, collecting money, etc.*
Man! This was turning into a nightmare! I looked at my map (provided by the rail company) and began to stress. Montpellier is only one hour away from Avignon, according to Eurrail, but Narbonne is a good three... maybe more. And it’s smaller. *sigh* this was going to be an interesting experience, at the very least.
That night, I went home and consulted the online timetables again. Surely I could get from Montpellier to Avignon! They have daily trains running... and it’s current!
I decided that it wasn’t worth worrying about. If I had to spend the night in Montpellier... well... I would just bring some cash along for a hostel... and then I would walk to Avignon if I had to! But I was going to get there somehow!

A few weeks passed, and then it was time to head off to the train station (França) to visit my friend. I was so excited the night before that I literally could not sleep. Having worried that I wouldn’t wake up to my alarm clock, the other extreme occurred: I didn’t sleep... at all... and ended up looking at my clock when it finally sounded like, “6 A.M. ... What else is new?!” (apparently I’m a mildly cranky person when I haven’t slept well).
I gathered my things (yay for light packing!), showered (...wait... did I? hmm...) and then headed out the door. As the sun rose about the miles (kilometers) of apartments, I found myself walking the streets of Barcelona alone. The normally bustling avenues and plazas were suddenly deserted and peaceful. Whoa! too much of that and I was going to fall asleep before I got to the station... Luckily, I made it without a problem. As I approached the station, I noticed a huge line snaking its way out the door. Dang it! The station WAS closed and this was the riot in response... Actually, no... it simply hadn’t opened yet, and people were waiting to board the train. That didn’t stop the negativity from running through my mind. haha!
I had been informed by my booklet that I needed to validate my pass: which basically means I had to get it stamped with the first date of travel so the rail lines would know when my last date of travel was up. Kinda sets limits in case there are cheaters. So, while I was standing in the line, some Americans began chatting in front of me. They were about my age and carrying (of all things) Eurrail passes. I asked them if they knew anything about the passes, and listed off a few questions that had still been unanswered. A little late, seeing as I was set to travel within the half hour, but I wanted the information anyways. They had as much info at I did, so we began to chat about other things. Finally, our passes were stamped (by the same woman who sold me the reservation), our things were passed through the metal detectors, and we entered the main garage. Wow! França is a huge station. I looked at the screen and walked over to the TALGO train *insert reference to Harry Potter here*
I found my assigned seat (window, holla!) but it was already occupied by the man who had a reservation for the aisle seat (boo...). Soon after I sat down, the train began to roll. I kept looking wistfully at the window seat, and eventually caught the attention of the man. I addressed him in Spanish, asking him if I could have the window as this was my first train adventure to France, and he graciously and happily agreed. He actually wound up being very friendly. He was a teacher from Andalucia who had come to Catalonia, met a nice girl, fallen in love, and stayed. He mentioned that he was also studying English but had few chances to practice. So, from that point on we spoke an interesting dialect of Spanglish. OH! and in reference to a former post. I showed him the gift that I was bring to my friends, and he totally approved. He actually knew the owners of my favorite cafe, and drank Anna de Cordanue with regularity after Sunday fútbol games. Oh! how some things never change across cultures.
Sensing that he traveled with some regularity, I asked him for some advise about which station I should get off at. He was getting off at Narbonne and had never seen a train to Avignon on the boards before. He had, however, traveled once to Montpellier and had noticed that it acted much like a major hub for the south of France. Okay. I was convinced. I wasn’t going to get off of the train until Montpellier, even though I only had a reservation until Narbonne. Heck. I bought the pass. I figured it would cover that. So. Stay is what I did. The further the train got from Barcelona, the fewer people lingered in the car, and when we finally crossed the boarder into France and the Catalan-Spanish-French announcements switched to French-Spanish announcements, I knew I was finally close to my upcoming adventures and getting to see my friend. Excitement filled me! ...so much for sleeping on the train.
The end of the line came all too quickly and I exited the train into the station. When the announcements had switched to French first, I had found it to be novel (as I could simply wait for the Spanish in order to understand) but this... was... different. I was suddenly thrown into a language that I did not understand... at all. Now... granted I had taken about two years of French in school and knew enough Spanish to read written French, but people tend to no speak in sentences like “avez-vous un crayon?” and “ou est le bain” (useful BTW... one of those phrases I’m rally glad stuck... and, for you french speakers... I’m sorry if it’s spelled incorrectly. “A” for effort?).
After disembarking from the train, the wild-eyed look that can only be described as a mixture of bewilderment, confusion and “totally lost” etched itself onto my face. I began to circulate the crowd of fellow travelers hoping someone would take pity on me... or at least be nice. I had heard many scary stories about the French from other students at UB, and was a bit frightened at the prospect of disturbing one long enough to find my may. Much to my surprise, everyone I encountered was extremely nice... I mean REALLY REALLY nice. The first family I stopped not only pointed me in the direction of the information center in the train station, but actually found an employee to accompany me. Once within the center, several workers approached me and rapidly began asking me questions in French. After a meek response of *blank stare* “umm... parlez-vous anglais?”, unexpected pity swept across their faces and they began to chat amongst themselves. Finally, a few associates gathered around me and began giving me advise in English and handing me several papers. We mutually decided that the next train to Avignon Centre would depart in roughly three hours. They gave me more schedules, the number of the train, information on where to find what platform it was departing from, invitations to return should I get lost and wishes for luck on my journey. I thanked them heartily and then stepped out into the main lobby for the station.
Well... I was in France in a city I had ever seen before, and with three hours to kill. Exploration sounded like fun. After locating a public telephone and purchasing a card (yet another adventure involving a very nice Frenchman and a line of patient people who looked like they felt sorry for me), I called up my friends to confirm when I would be arriving in Avignon. After that, I cinched up my suitcase, balanced my bag on the other shoulder and headed off to the old part of town to snap a few photos. Holy cow! It’s SO beautiful there. Time flew by, and before I knew it, I was running in the general direction of the station (thanks to a very expressive Frenchman’s response to “Ou est le gare?”) to catch my train. The train was stuffed to the rafters with people, but after a few stops, a seat opened up for me to sit down. I knew that Avignon Centre was roughly one hour away from Montpellier via train, but fifteen minutes into the ride I began to worry about which station to get off at. I looked anxiously around the train. Everyone was speaking French. It was the first time that I have felt totally immersed into a culture and language I did not know. Now, when I arrived in Spain, granted I went through culture shock, but it was nothing like this moment. I could understand Spanish when I arrived and had the ability to communicate with people around me... but I couldn’t even eavesdrop here!
I finally mustered up some courage and turned to the woman seated next to me. “Avignon?” I asked in a high-pitched squeaky voice. She must have read the large neon sign blinking wildly about my head screaming “foreigner”, as she smiled and replied “non”... nothing else. *phew!*
Another half an hour passed by and I received a tap on the shoulder. I turned to the woman seated next to me and she slowly said “Avignon Centre” and pointed up to the intercom system that was crackling a mixture of static and French. We both stood up and I croaked out something resembling: “Merci.” At that moment, a very short elderly lady stood on her tip-toes and reached into the rafters to retrieve her bags. They looked quite heavy and I became suddenly worried that she would hurt herself in a luggage avalanche. I threw my hangs into the air to catch the bags and said (more loudly than I intended to, and in English) “Here! Let me help you with that!”. You would think I had sent a shock-wave through the train, as suddenly everything went silent and all the eyes in the car were suddenly on me. The elderly lady smiled and said something to me in French. *Blank stare* *eyes shift from left to right* ... “umm... Parlez-vous anglais?”. The people formerly occupied with their palm-pilots and phones began to laugh... at me. The woman shook her head no, still smiling, and giggled a little.
The train stopped, and I waited to get off. Someone who had been watching me struggle, stopped in the aisle and motioned for me to pass in front of them. I thanked them and then stepped off of the train. I barely had a second to look at my surroundings when my eyes locked on my friend. He was standing there looking exactly the same and smiling. Any regards I had for the sanctity of the French language environment evaporated, and I ran over screaming “Oh my gosh! I haven’t seen you in FOREVER!”
We exchanged an American greeting (awkward hug) and a more European greeting (awkward kiss on both cheeks) and then headed towards where his family was waiting.
So there you have it. I had survived a trip solo, and was now with good friends (who spoke the language of the area). Though it had been somewhat of a challenge from the get go, people were incredibly helpful and kind. I sensed that it was going to be an excellent week.

If ignorance is bliss, why was this SO stressful?!

Alright, so... I can’t resist anymore. This story must be told. Absolutely necessary. For those of you who I haven’t told yet: I went to France for Semana Santa to visit a friend that I haven’t seen in FOREVER and his family. I wanted to bring something nice, and seeing as I live in Catalunya, there are some very nice Cavas floating around. I decided that that would make for an enjoyable gift without being too ostentatious or flimsy. A happy medium... Anyways, I know nothing (NOTHING) about decent Cavas, so I started asking around for some advise. The strange thing was that the conversation usually followed a typical pattern:
Cavas, eh?
insert opinion
Who is it for? FRENCH PEOPLE?!?!?!
correction to former opinion
a stern lecture about choosing the correct brand, year, etc (minus names, of course...)
a small lesson on the quality of French cuisine.
Emphasis on the importance of choosing a decent mark (again... minus names)
advise regarding other (non-cava) products that might be safer
head tips down and begins to sway from side to side, eyes locked on me: concern expressed, and luck granted for my quest.
Hmmm... what was the big deal, guys? I think (thought) there was some unnecessary exaggeration going on until I saw this: (its in Spanish, but not hard to get the general idea)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v1SjNkomh20&feature=channel_page

I laughed when I saw it... and then realized why I was getting SO much concern and advise. Yep. I was then promptly scared. OH! NO! What if it tastes BAD? OR WORSE: if I like it and they DON’T??
Action had to be taken! AND FAST! so, I went to the only restaurant that was names and bought a bottle of semi-sec rosado... there... no more need to worry. I could put it out of my mind and prepare other things for the trip (like actually buying a reservation on the train...).
I continued my week in innocent bliss, until the day I left for Tarragona (a sort of, pre-trip trip) my host mom barged into the room, located my bottle and studied in in deep and reserved silence. I sat nervously... “Hmm...” she said after a couple of minutes “I’ve never heard of this brand” (*heart sinks* expletive... that can’t be good) “What is it?”... *finger rolls over the label* “SeMi-SeC?!”

a stern lecture about choosing the correct brand, year, etc (minus names, of course...
a small lesson on the quality of French cuisine.
emphasis on the importance of choosing a decent mark (again... minus names)
advise regarding other (non-cava) products that might be safer
head tips down and begins to sway from side to side, eyes locked on me: concern expressed, and luck granted for my quest.

this was beginning to look a bit familiar... So, I made it a productive familiarity. After the brand I chose was officially labeled a “caca” and a disgrace to Catalunya, I demanded names... and where I could find them. A list of names were rattled off at break neck speed... *blank stare* I scrounged around in my desk and finally emerged with a piece of paper and a pen. Pushing them in her direction, I asked her to write them down so I wouldn’t forget. (When in reality, I was tempted to give up the whole business and take something else). I stuffed the paper into my bag and ran to the train station, just barely having enough time to stop by a local cafe (and my favorite) to pick up some coco (coconut, I know... confused me too) balls from Sevilla (made by monks... awesome!).
“There,” I thought to myself on the train, “screw cava! I’m taking this instead!”
Well, as you already know: it was raining on Tarragona when I got there, but determined to sight-see despite the weather, I ran around. After a while, I got tired of being soaked and cold, so I ducked into a bodega (drink store) and saw one of the brands on that had been recommended. The price was reasonable, so I bought it... and then walked around with it all day... and then took it home to Barcelona... and then took it on the train the next day... and then walked around Montpellier with it... and then took it back onto the train. When it FINALLY made it into the hands of my hosts, I was beyond scared. The bottle had undergone some hardcore transportation over the past few days, and seeing as cava is essentially spanish sparking wine, it was probably more fit for christining a new boat than drinking. I nervously watched in the car praying it wouldn’t explode. It didn’t *phew*...
We waited a few days, and then tried it (sans explosion, thank goodness!). I do believe they enjoyed it. If not,... at least they didn’t call it a “caca”.

AH! I'm working on it!!

*phew*...
Well... after tomorrow, Easter Break is officially over and the normal school schedule shall resume (... if I can say I actually have a “normal” schedule...). And, how am I spending Easter day? Why, thank you for asking! I’m chilling out in my room, listening to the Mika CD my friends in France graciously bestowed upon my computer, nibbling on homemade easter bunny sugar cookies, and, well, writing to you guys. =D
SoOOOOOoo... much has happened this week. I promise I’ll fill you in on all the details as soon as possible... Wet your appetites, friends: stories are a-coming!

What a wonderful day =)

I have officially begun Semana Santa, and am SOOOO EXCITED!!! BAHHHH!!! ...anyways, to begin this wonderful week, I came down to Tarragona to visit a friend, and inquire about a summer camp that has it's headquarters on La Rambla (...it's like the Catalan version of "main street"). The journey here was quite an adventure, but totally worth it. Okayokayokay... to start, my host mom informed me the other day that there would be some construction on the Estation de Franca (I'm sans a keyboard with accents... for those of you who are of the grammatical and accentational (yeah, that's probably not a word... but it will be...) sticklers, I'm sorry... no I'm not. *evil laughter*) back to the station... that there might be some construction, and that I needed to double check where my train would be leaving from... SOOO, I looked online at the RENFE sight and it said that I would definitely be leaving from Franca... but... com'on... this is RENFE we're talking about here: they're reliable... eventually... so I went to the Saints station (there are seriously like 5 train stations in Barcelona, it's insane trying to keep them all straight!) and asked the man at the "quick questions desk" who gave me some quality information and then pointed me in the direction of the Customer Service desk. Once at the doors to customer service, I was stopped by another station attendant (repeat information here) and then was directed into the customer service office. I waited in line for about 5 minutes (they're quick in there, no fooling around!) and the repeated myself (yet again) and received a bit of a blank look... She asked me some specific questions about the train that I was taking, and right when I said to myself 'darn! I don't even know how to explain myself in English!', the two men from the other information desks that I had talked to previously popped out of nowhere and began drilling the customer service lady about my question. Long story short... according to the website and three RENFE employees, I can leave from Franca. Yay! It was incredibly nice of those men to take the time to help the very lost looking girl by herself out... ahhh, feeling the love! (no, seriously, that like... never happens! It's always: I have no idea... good luck!.)
Right, so I bought the ticket to Tarragona (which was a bit of an adventure, as well... but I won't bore you with the details) and then boarded the train (after calling a friend to make sure it was the right one... haha!) [note to my friend Joseph: I was NOT stressed out at this point. No! It's true... totally relaxed... well, okay... mildly worried... *sigh* Shut up! fine, you win... I was "antsy"]. OH! what a BEAUTIFUL ride that is! It's been raining for the past few days so everything was a vibrant shade of springtimey green (YUMMY!). That hour ride went by FAST. ...hmm... we should seriously have more trains in the US. Seriously...
Anyways, I got off in Tarragona and promptly realized that I had no map, and (even better!) no idea which direction I needed to go to find the office (but I knew what street it was on!) so, needless to say, I got lost rather quickly. After about 15 minutes of walking around a very "local" looking part of town (I needed to be where the tourists were...), I stopped a lady on the street and asked her where La Rambla was. She stopped and thought for a bit, and then said, "I think it'll be better if I just show you." Thinking that that meant hand signals, I was a bit surprised when she started walking away from me, so I followed her. She actually showed me where the street I needed to be was: as in lead me there! OHH! LOVE SMALL TOWNS!
I found the office with absolutely no trouble at all, but it wound up being the wrong office. They did, however, know exactly what I was looking for and referred me to the correct one. Once at "English Summer" (google it!), the staff was very warm and friendly, and answered about a million questions with unwavering patience.
I picked up an application and then headed out the door. (just playing around with a thought, don't get too freaked out!). At this point it was raining pretty hard, but I had come prepared with a hat, so naturally: out to the city I went! I have pictures, but no way of showing them to you. (they're coming soon, I promise!).
After running around Tarragona for about an hour, I got a bit tired of being wet, so I ducked into a local cafe. Mmmm... cafe amb llet! so good. My friend picked me up near the fountain of the kid wrangling a duck (some of the fountains... well. I don't think odd quite covers it... hmm... Unique. That's a good word). Anyways, she picked me up, and we had a lovely time making and enjoying dinner together. So now I'm all snuggled up and warm, and feeling quite sleepy...
That was my day! Hope you had a lovely one, as well. Talk to you soon!

This week in pictures...

What to write, what to write! It’s one of those moments when a million things have happened, and I don’t have the time (okay, fine, ...motivation) to write them all down!
SoOo... let’s see... Sunday: ahh! Great day. After a wonderful sermon by some visiting guest speakers from (you’ve guessed it!... maybe not... I’ll just tell you) California, a group of friends and myself went down to La Rambla for some döner kabobs. Yummy! Yep... that actually took up most of my day =).
Monday: I decided early in the morning that I absolutely HAD to go to Barrio Gótico to draw something. I can’t remember if I told you last week, but Elly C. (shout out!) came into town and inspired me to buy a decent drawing pen and put it to use. After a morning round of sucking hard at sketching, I went to class and came back. Now, granted... it wasn’t much better this time, but the company was lovely! (on both occasions). I set myself up on the steps facing a doorway to the Cathedral de Barcelona (on a side street that tourists rarely find. *snicker* claimed as Michelle’s domain!!!) and began to sketch. While I was busy scribbling away, a man with a beautiful harp came and set up. He began playing South American harp music; and, when he noticed I was watching him, we began to chit-chat. After I told him that my mom used to play the harp (and will again!... when the harp gets out of rehab. That’s what happens to musical instruments who hang out with the Magic Flute too much... sad day... Right! That was random)... anyways, we began talking and he started asking me which songs (or types of songs) I wanted to hear and then would play them. Having just had a conversation about Rancho Grande the other day, at one point, I requested it (because, it’s just plain beautiful). He smiled and said that he didn’t know an arrangement, so I told him to invent one (laughingly... kinda sounds harsh in text.) He agreed, and what came out of that harp was AMAZING! He continued to play a few more songs (per request =) ) and then I had to go home. Glorious day!
Tuesday: hmm... I can’t remember what I did... I know it was fun... education? Hmm..
Wednesday: Ho ho! I went to the USA general consulate =). Name tags! I was asking about any open secretarial positions. After ping-ponging around the oh-so organized bureaucracy, I was given an email address... Hmm... well... so much for attempting to intern in a government agency in Spain. NO, but really though, it was still awesome running around there (being sent to various offices is actually more accurate... but I can dream!)... felt like a secret agent. Don’t worry. No round-house kicks were involved.
Thursday: Our classes were greatly reduced in size due to the threat-down of another student strike/protest (It was actually going to be held off school grounds at eight at night, but for some reason we had the time and location mixed up... so hardly anyone came). Wound up being a good day, as we had nearly one-on-one attention with the professor. We came up with personality profiles for fictitious characters and then attempted to marry them off to each other... needless to say... the cat lady and shady pimp shall not be joined in matrimony anytime soon (or ever... as they don’t actually exist). Anyways, it was good fun. Then, I went to Parc Güell with Grace and snapped several photos (on her camera... hehe) and caused a ruckus =) OH! and then I went to a couch-surfing language exchange meeting (when it comes to couch surfing: I am not a member (for those of you who are worried) but several friends are. Calm down!) I met some really cool people and got a chance to practice Spanish and converse in English.
Friday: Went to the Sorolla exhibit... again =D
Man, those murals are breath-taking! I was with one of the guys who I had met the previous night, so after running around the museum, we headed off to the Castillo and Olympic Stadium (because they are a must-see) and then walked around Raval for a bit. Lovely day! OH! that, and I finally saw Vicky Christina Barcelona. Hehehe... Minus the restaurants (as I eat at home or picnic style everyday) I’ve been to all of the BCN locations minus the airport and the corner where her picks her up for their secret rendezvous... yay!
Which brings me to today!
It was quite rainy out which limited the options a little, but I woke up at a decent hour this morning and then went to go find a monastery that my art professor had talked about several times. The claustro wound up being closed, but the cathedral was open and lovely. I’ve posted a few pictures from my adventure today. Enjoy!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=20173&id=1323450019&l=d07cd544cf


Please keep me posted with your goings-ons!
I’ll be out for a week starting friday, so if it seems a bit like talking to a brick wall I apologize in advance. Have an awesome week! Blessings!

Taking it all in...

Well, family... Yesterday was quite glorious. I walked around Barcelona with my friend Elly Clemmons (who is in from Madrid scouting out the art around the city for her Alma Mater, Biola) and snapped about a zillion photos. Oh! And took a video =D... And this one actually uploaded. Yay!

video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eFlisi8n5hk

photos:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=19566&id=1323450019&l=78a799f39f


Yay!
After we ran around the city for several hours taking in the sights, we went over to a friend's apartment where I got to cook dinner (holla!) and ...not have to do dishes... (holla to the max!). It was awesome getting to spend time with friends in the ol' family meal setting.

Hope to hear from you all soon!

Springtime, SPRINGTIME!!! Yay! The fleurs are a-bloomin' and ...despite the occasional individuals affected by the pollen zipping around... moods are lifting! *sigh* Sunshine... how I love thee... WHY DON'T YOU LOVE ME BAA-ACK?! haha...
Alright, enough of this non-sense.
Yesterday there was a bit of a demonstration at the University... well... most of them, actually. So, classes in the main building were cancelled. (Basically, the students that were camping out in the main entrance we're asked to leave by the Dean... this is just what I heard, so I'm not exactly sure how accurate it is... They refused, so early yesterday morning, police came and kicked them out. They fought back, and so now the school is closed for the next few days to prevent a riot from breaking out.) SoOoOo... having had my classes cancelled, I headed up Tibidabo to check out the greenery... or flowery, as it has recently turned into. Check it, yo!

In other news, I've been crazy busy trying to balance playtime with school work, but having an absolute blast despite the activity! Umm... I recently began working with a friend on his English skills; and consequently, am dabbling a little bit in Ukrainian. Holy cow, that language is hard to pronounce! And am teaching a friend how to cook some awesome chicken tonight. OH! random side note... I was taking to one of the guys from my church the other day, and asked him if he knew what summer squash was. He had no clue... and ... I must admit... I gave him the nasty "are you kidding me?!" look... So! I went to the open market to try to find it, and I couldn't! They kept pointing to pumpkins, and I was like, "NO! I don't want PUMPKINS! I'm looking for ... well, they're like zucchinis, but yellow and shaped like lightbulbs." ...Blank stare... "You mean pumpkins?" "NO!"... Oh man! Who feels silly now?! I guess produce availability changes across the pond... that would explain the massive stacks of Kiwis they're selling for dirt cheap in every grocery store... (Oh my goodness, I'm in Kiwi heaven!!!). So, I bought Eggplant instead. Should be stellar! Right? RIGHT?! Anyways, looking forward to getting my hands dirty in a kitchen again... and then washing them before I begin cooking... Alright! Enough of this randomnicity! I have a date with Elly Clemmons! (Drs. Clemmons' Daughter) Yay! She's fun =)
Hope you're all doing well! Hear from you soon!

Extra, extra! Read all about it!!!

New photos! New photos!!!

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=19116&id=1323450019&l=437ef


Check it yo!

Wow! okay, so today was amazing! I woke up at about 7 this morning, quickly got dressed, and then headed off to Plaza Catalunya (okay... I know I've spelled this place about eight different ways in this blog, but this time I've got it right. I checked... twice) to meet a group of students from ISA to go horseback riding. The morning was absolutely gorgeous! The sun was shining, birds were singing, and the Plaza was totally vacant. ...Like, I've never, ever, ever seen it that empty before. AWESOME! Anyways, we gathered in front of a cafe and then headed off to the RENFE station under the Plaza. The trip took about an hour but it was full of gorgeous views and fun conversation, making it seem quite short.
After we arrived at Santa Susana on the Costa Brava, we met taxis from the ranch and were driven directly to the park. There we met our guides and began sorting through a huge pile of helmets. Hmm... in the US it's not that difficult to find hats that fit me, but apparently my head is slightly larger than normal (shut up!)... But, thankfully, I finally found a skateboard helmet in the pile that fit... more or less. While I was digging around in the shed, I heard horses being brought out. The woman who was clearly in charge of the yard shouted out "okay, who here can ride?"... after having had talked to the program director quite a bit on the train (about... well, if you know me I shouldn't even have to fill you in) so she pointed to me, and I was the first to pop onto a pony. YAY! Actually, that horse was quite tall. I'm guessing about 16 hands... which isn't that big, but ...well, fine... I admit it... it's been a while. Then the other 15 riders and 2 guides mounted up and we left. Holy freaking cow! I am SOOO glad there are so many rules at Camp Richardson when it comes to the way the rides are structured. The horses were well-behaved but packed themselves together and ...they got cranky after a while. No one fell off, but there were moments when I definitely held my breath... needless to say, I kept to the back where there was more space. The horse I was assigned was totally chill, and responded really well to leg (and OMG the saddle fit SO well!). About halfway through the ride, we turned around and began making our way back to the ranch. As I had kept to the back of the ride, it went from tranquil to sixteen some odd horses coming at me all at once. I got incredibly claustrophobic so I held Sofí back. Glad I did too. The guide who had originally ridden in the front was now taking up the rear, and was very talkative (yep, and enunciated well). So, we chatted about Chile (where he was from) and the US and horses. After we got back to the ranch, I played "Giddy" (tourists, as they are affectionately called in Barcelona) and went snap-crazy with the camera. Which brings us back to the beginning... I posted new pictures. Finally. Enjoy!

Unbelievable...

Wow! Craaaazy night!
Okay, so on Wednesday I suggested that a group of people from my church get together and head over to the fountain on Montjuïc, on Friday, to watch the musical fountain light show extravaganza. Everyone made it over to the designated meeting point a bit earlier than expected, so we made our way over to the fountain while the previous show was still going on. During that time we scoped out good seats (on low concrete walls) and took entertained ourselves by snapping pictures of the pretty lights/water combinations. While my friend Nikki and I were busy trying to figure out how to take a picture of me holding the fountain with the lights framing the palace in the background appear to crown me Lady Liberty style, (by the way, that picture is AWESOME! ...but not on my camera... will let you see it asap) someone threw who-knows-what on some girls in the group. I’m guessing it’s baby food... I hope it’s baby food... Anyways, another man (creeper) approached the two girls (who immediately clutched their bags a little closer) and began telling them that they had just been decorated by some pigeons and that he would clean it off for them. They got nervous and began trying to get our attention (unfortunately, I was totally absorbed in posing for the picture =( and didn’t notice anything going on). Just then, another girl in our group was tapped on the shoulder, and when she turned around someone snatched her bag and ran. She began screaming for help as they ran off down the stairs and around the corner, and then immediately took off after them with Benji, one of the guys from the church that was with us. They came back after about a minute after having lost them. I then suggested that we head off to the police to see if she could fill out a report and have her credit cards shut off, but then Benji suggested and even better idea: that we could, at least, see if the bandits had dumped her purse somewhere after taking her wallet so that she could recover her keys and cell phone. So, we went the same direction that we had seen the thieves run off in. Not really having had much experience in having a purse stolen, I began opening up dumpster lids and looking inside. Just then, an elderly man approached us and asked us if we had just been robbed. “YES!!” He then explained that he had seen three men come running around the corner being followed by a police car. Then the group had broken up and the police had continued to follow two of the three robbers. When we asked him what we should do, he told us that now was probably a pretty good time to head over to the police station because they were chasing the very people with her purse. He then gave us directions, and then lead us over to a pair of officers standing at the corner. We quickly explained that a purse had been stolen (and were met with an “what else is new?” expression...). They then radioed some fellow officers and told us to head down the street and to the left where a group of officers had congregated. ...so we did... and what did we find there? Two men hand-cuffed against a wall, about ten police officers, and one stolen purse... with everything (credit cards, cell phone, house keys, everything!) still inside. *sigh* Yay! Happy ending! The officers were incredibly nice! They offered the girl a ride to the station and an extra space for someone to go with her (so Benji went to help her fill out forms) and a first aid kit when she got there (she had fallen and was scraped up and bleeding). So, all is taken care of now. She got her purse back (and probably wouldn’t have had it not been for Benji’s suggestion to go look for it in the first place) and everything inside. ...crazy!

Here I am! Back from the silence...

Hi! Long time no see... Sorry I've been lame-sauce about keeping this up lately, it's been a bit difficult as I've had zero spare time. And, though much has happened, I'm afraid I've only got enough time to entertain you with one story... Okay!

I had a moment with a Spaniard the other day. I know, I know! That sounds odd! But, I'm so used to eyes flicking away from me (and visa-versa) when I people watch, that it was incredibly exciting to not only have someone I didn't know make eye contact with me on purpose, but hold it and understand what I was thinking! HOLLA! Hmkay, so this is what happened: I was making my way home via the metro at around 5-ish one day. Luckily, the metro was pretty much empty (a rarity during rush hour... anywhere) so I had my own little pod of seats to myself. Across the aisle and facing me was a middle-aged woman. Needless to say, at that point in the trip we were both looking at each other while still avoiding eye-contact. It's like a national sport here... anyways... the train stopped at one of the stations and then opened its doors. Soon after (they seriously give you like three seconds to enter) the train beep-beep-beep-beeped (um... it actually made that sound. no swearing. promise) and the doors started to shut. While they were closing this man power-punched his arm into the door (dude, seriously?! just wait for the next one!) and pushed them open strong-man style. He then proceeded to make his way down the aisle and when he passed in between the woman who "wasn't" looking at me, and myself (who "wasn't" looking at her), stopped and then scrunched up his face, balled his fists, began to sway his head violently from side to side, whisper-screamed "ssssschizAAAHH!" (schizer?...I don't want to know) and then continued walking. Yep... Weird. And when something of that magnitude happens, I have to share with someone (dude, it was like a freaking 4.6 on the awkward richter scale). With a wide-eyed and slightly shocked expression (appropriate in that particular situation) I slowly moved my eyes over to the woman who was sitting across the aisle from me. She met my look, and then began giggling, but trying really really hard not to laugh. I could see the strain in her eyes! Did I help her gain control? no. When I raised my eyebrows, and then whipped my head around to see where he had gone, she lost it. We giggle for a while. It was awesome. =)
The end!
Hope to hear from you soon! Please fill me in with your goings-ons!
love you!

Michellie Bellie

Ladies and Gentlemen...

...it has been brought to my attention, that I left you all hanging on the absolute worst post to be left hanging on... ever. I’m truly very very VERY sorry! No! I haven’t been ducking for cover in random metro stops this week, I’ve actually just been really busy having a great time. Bethany came into town from Madrid, and we’ve been getting up early (okay, fine... that’s a relative term?) and going to bed late (Umm... that’s for real) packing as much of the city (both tourist, and non-touristy-Michelle-is-lost-and-doesn’t-want-to-admit-it-so-she’s-just-going-to-keep-on-walking-while-avoiding-eye-contact-with-Bethany-to-keep-up-the-pretense-that-she-totally-knows-where-she’s-going sections of town... just kidding, Bethany!... or am I?...I am... not? whatever). Point being, she got a pretty thorough tour of the city. hehehe... and it was loads of home-baked fun!
Thursday I took her on a tour of the Gothic Neighborhood... in the dark. So, Friday we went back. It’s nice to actually be able to see both the inside and... outside... and the sidewalk of that section of town... and the day was lovely! We went into just about every cathedral we could find, and then took the metro to Sagrada Familia to eat a picnic lunch at the park facing the origional facade. After walking around the church and looking for the pond (which had dried up) we headed off to Pedrera and Casa... the other one Gaudi built on Passeig de Gracia... and getting in a bit more of the city scenery than expected. Hehehe... Where’s the “I’m the Map” guy from Dora when you need him! After meandering down that street, we came back to Plaça Catalunya and then went down to the beach. Holla! the water was obviously too cold to venture into (much like SD in winter) so we just chilled out on the sand. After, we went to La Self Naturalista, a lovely vegetarian restaurant that serves up Spanish dishes, and then watched a movie (The Englishman who went up a hill but came down a mountain, anyone?! awesome!).
Mkay, because we explored the city part of Barcelona on Friday, I thought it might be kinda fun to see the Nature-like part of the town on Saturday. We went to Park Güell in the morning and then climbed up Mt. Tibidabo in the afternoon. Oh, and for dessert, we went to this cafe in Barrio Gótico that serves chocolates.Yep... I think I can speak for both of us when I say... I’m kinda feeling it today. But! For a whirlwind tour of the city, we sure did have a relaxing and fun time together. I was sad to see her go. =(

Hope your weekends were all splendid! and that I get to hear from you soon! Please update me! I want to her about your lives!

Love you all so much!

¡una manifestación en la plaça!

I met with my conversation partner, and she’s AWESOME! Yesterday, instead of heading to a café, we went to the Gothic Quarter and walked around for about an hour. The first half was in English, and the second in Spanish. I’m so excited about doing this exchange! I’m heading off to a workshop that certifies TELFA teachers (just for an “I survived this ESL methods” workshop) and it should give me access to a load of resources to improve my ability to teach and learn (and visa-versa!).
Oop! And today was *ahem* interesting... My first encounter with no-tranquil Spanish protesters (these people took to the streets, instead of moving in to the University)... or really, any kind of protesters in the streets... wait... yep. Okay! I’ll explain. After napping in Barcelona’s equivalent to Balboa Park (Parque de la Ciudatella) I went to the ISA office to check up on some of the travel books they have in the break room. When I left, it was around 5 in the afternoon (and for those of you who have lived with me... quiet time!). I was quite drowsy as I headed towards UB to check out spanish easy-read books in the library, play with the mangy cats in the garden, or walk around wherever; however, when I got to the first intersection I have to cross to get to Plaça Cataluñia (center of town) I noticed there were a bunch of police cars parked up and down the street. Instead of thinking “oh, geez, I should probably take a different route”, instead, “Hmm... now would probably not be a good time to j-walk” ran through my mind. While waiting on the corner of the street for the pedestrian sign to turn green (in my sleepy state of mind), I heard what sounded like a ton of bricks falling from a crane (not that high up, just enough to make a startling BANG!). As these sounds frequently visit my ears in the city, I walked across the street (when the light was green!) and ignored it. Then, right when I reached the pavement, I heard two more explosions back-to-back, and people yelling and screaming. At this point, I finally looked up and saw a huge group of protesters (signs, t-shirts, the works!) being pushed back by a police barricade. And the explosions? TEAR-FrEaKiNg-GAS! (I was upwind from it! It was blowing the other way! Don’t worry!). I was... a bit... freaked out, I (waited for the green light again, funny how logic doesn’t always kick in when one is scared) ran back to the ISA office. It’s not too far away from the intersection I discovered the protest at, but there’s quite a hike up the stairs (okay, in Spain building floors are deceptive. I live on the “third floor” in my building, but I have to walk up 5 flights to get to it. This is because (And it changes from building-to building, there is an entrada, a ground floor, and then the first floor second floor gibbily-gab begins... the ISA office is on the second floor (4th) of a similar type of building), and I was too anxious to calmly walk up them. I realized that I had left my map (ol’ faithful!) at home, and didn’t have a clue of how to navigate the side streets without being lead back to the “fiesta”, so once inside, I burst (well, not really, that’s a bit dramatic) into the office and, in the worst Spanish to ever flee my mouth, tried to explain what had just happened (I don’t quite have the vocab to explain “holy cow! there’s an angry mob in the streets, and they’re being gassed by the police!”). The message, thankfully, got across (mostly because all of the directors are bilingual, and fluent in “freaked out american hand gestures”) and they were extremely helpful. I think one of them was worried I would pass out... I was a bit flushed from sleeping in the sun earlier but that was all! ...I’m just pale... But, they offered me water and looked up where the protest was at on google (and what it was about: housing), and then helped me come up with a plan to take the metro back home (it can be a bit confusing if you’ve never taken that specific exit/entrance before). I popped up from the metro at the university just to make sure that the area was clear to go to my night class. It was, no one was there. So, I took the metro (making sure I stayed underground) back to Plaça Cataluñia. On a normal day I would have just walked above ground, but today I figured it would be best to just stay away from all the excitement. While I was navigating the stations (it’s quite large. Two metro systems, and renfe (national train system) run under the Plaça) announcements began to come over the intercom. As I live in Cataluñia, if info ever gets announced in the metro, it’s always just in Catalán, but today they ran bilingual messages (the other in Spanish) to make it absolutely clear that no one was allowed to move the protests underground.
Well, I made it home totally safe, and had no trouble getting to my night class. When I came back a few hours later, there were emergency vehicles in between the office and the plaça, but the crowds had been dispersed.
So, like I said, it was an interesting day. I truly, truly hope no one was badly hurt, and that the housing problems are resolved quickly. I’ll let you guys know when I find out more about what they were protesting.
Hope your day was excellent, and to hear from you soon!

Love you!

I saw the Pyrenees on Saturday =D

Well! This weekend has been an adventure. ...a good one.
On Friday, I went to the museum of history in the Gothic Quarter with my good friend Anna. We had a blast running (totally lying, we were moseying at best... Awesome!) Anyways, we worked out way through the rooms of ancient statues and artifacts from the Romantic era, and then found an elevator. Now, I know what you’re thinking... why should I be surprised that there was an elevator in a museum... Because it was freaking awesome! This thing was like the corvettes of elevators! Nice ‘n’ spacious... air conditioned, ... no, totally kidding. Actually, this elevator had a screen on it that said “2009”... we didn’t really understand what it was until we started going down... the number began decreasing, and when the doors opened we were in the Romanic ruins that they had dug out from under the city... HOW COOL IS THAT?!
After an ample amount of running around under ground (in what was essentially the “50 cent” tour of a dead person’s house, laundry room included) and running into two of my teachers from the university, we decided to move on to other activities for the day. Anna and I met up with some friends at the beach, and I finally planted my feet into some spanish sand... OH! how wonderful it was to be back at the beach again! ..oh, and we fed seagulls... if you toss bread at them, they’ll catch it in the air. It’s awesome *sing song voice*. When it began to get dark, we walked the streets in the Gothic neighborhood to get back to the metro station, and I finally stumbled upon “Santa Maria del Mar”. I can’t wait to go inside! It looks gorgeous!
It was a wonderfully relaxing day.
Then, we woke up super early on Saturday to go on a day-trip with ISA to Girona and Figueres, two little towns on the Costa Brava at the foot of the Pyrenees. Girona was beautiful in an ancient kind of way with weathered stone walls that have stood for centuries and ruins from Neopoleon’s escapades. Contrast that with Dali’s Museum (built and furbished by the man himself) and you’ve got yourself one heck of an adventure.
We got back home around eight at night, just in time to head out again for the Carnival celebration! Instead of buying a mask at the local market, I opted to paint my face. I went out with my friend, Grace, and experienced what was essentially Halloween for europeans.
I went to church the next day, and got to see all of the friends that I had made at the BBQ. *sigh* I’ve been plugged onto a church in Spain, and I can’t tell you how comforting that is! I turned down a lunch invitation, but am definitely going to a small group meeting on Wednesday night. Yay!
Well, hope you’re weekends were all splendid! here are the pictures from the recent going-ons (goings-ons? goings-on?...whatever):

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=17464&id=1323450019&l=3809f

Enjoy!
I love you all, and hope to hear from you soon!

*sigh* It would be a dirty word...

*sigh* My first Spanish presentation is officially out of the way... and my grade is set in that class... and the teacher never takes attendance... and its boring... (Stop tempting me, peoples! No, but really, I’ll go. I’ve decided that I have to makes friends with some guys in the class. They’re from Ukraine and are absolutely hilarious... make me laugh every class. SO! I’ll go...)

Anyways, the presentation went really well. I was a part of a group that covered sports in Spain... I know. Michelle doing a presentation on something that involves organized sports... Ironically, none of the other three girls in my group were into sports, as well. Oh! and we had five days (including the weekend) to throw it all together. Amazingly, it went really, really well. And, Anna, if you’re reading this, you were my favorite! Very animated. Oh! And easy to understand. Nicely played! Anyhoo...

Oh! ...OH MY GOSH! Okayokayokay... This is embarrasing. Enjoy...
I was sitting in class the other day, and we were talking about the amount of Americans vs. Spaniards that get plastic surgery done. And, since I live in Southern California... I was trying to explain that the majority of women either injected themselves with Botox, or had their breasts enlarged. You would think that of all the words to struggle describing, that “breasts” would not be a problem. But, it was. I totally blanked (mostly because “el pecho” sounded too masculine to describe the girls). SO! I tried *cringe* and failed *contort* to get around it as best as I could with the vocabulary I already possessed. The lucky word-lottery winner was “chichis” which is a playful way of saying “boobies” in Mexico... According to my Spanish prof. from City College, one “chi” is for one side, and the other “chi” for the other. ¡Son Gemelas! (they’re twins). Well, aparently, not all slang words travel across the ocean very well, and when “chichis” left my mouth, I knew that this was one of those instances. My professor’s face turned from ghostly pale to bright red, and then she began laughing... at me! Don’t worry, she quickly pulled herself together, and said, “Michelle, (this is a translation, by the way... mkay) what do you think that means?” ...*with look of horror on her face, Michelle cups hands under her boobies and makes bouncy motion* “Ah! ...I see. Well, it means emm... it’s a vulgar word for describing a part of the woman’s anatomy. You probably shouldn’t use it here.” (Oh! and “buey” is useless as an insult here... ) Anyways, I wanted to crawl under a rock, but opted to turn about twelve shades of red instead...
Then, a few days later, I was on the Metro with my friend Benjamin from Districto Federal (Mexico City), and I suddenly remembered what had happened the week before. Wanting to verify that the word in question meant what I thought it did (boobies?) I leaned in and began telling him what had happened (didn’t want any elderly women to pass out from such vulgar language). ...He laughed... and then thanked me... and then laughed. And, yes. It means “those fun little fiddly-bits”... just not here...

Well, hope you are all having an excellent week. Mine has been VERY educational! Hope to talk to you soon! Love you!

BBQs and B-Ball

This weekend was (in short) AMAZING! *happy dance*
I can’t remember how much I told you in my last post, so there may be a bit of a review...

Wait! I already talked about Saturday... Okay, SUNday, was a whole lotta fun. I went to church at around 11:30 and got totally turned around and lost in the neighborhood (whoo ho!) and finally found the church at around 12:15... I know, it makes it worse when I tell you I was walking around the same block several times (But better when I say “road construction?!”). Anyways, right when I scrambled into the sanctuary and seated myself, the pastor looked up and said “amen” and the entire congregation proceeded to leave the way I had just entered seconds ago... bummer...
But! I began introducing myself to other goers, and found out that there was a second service (Horray for being horribly late only to find out I’m actually on time!) So, (round two *dingdingding* (Yes, there is a perpetual boxing match in my head... )) I went back in and got settled. About half-way through the service, a few friends from my Spanish class came in, yay! familiar faces.

At the end of that service, everyone kinda stayed in the sanctuary so that we could travel to the BBQ together. During that time, I met a bunch of people I probably would have been to shy to introduce myself to otherwise (shut up!, it happens!) and made some awesome friends.

Oh! at the BBQ, I tried this traditional Cataluñian dish called Calçots. They’re (the spell check is screaming at me right now!) like big chives that you roast over a fire, peel, and then dip into sauce. Very mess... OHHHH SO GOOD! Will I make them when I get back to the states?... You can betchyour buttons, I will!

I also played one-on-one BB ball with this guy who plays on a local team in Barcelona. Here be the pictures of me getting my booty kicked. ...two days later, and I’m still in pain! Haha! It was very fun, and at first I wasn’t considering going back, but I’m very glad that they had this event to plug the newbies into the church. It’s going to ease the “Umm... I don’t know anyone... Let me cling to you, unsuspecting person” feeling quite a bit!

Well! I have to get showered and head off to school! Hope to talk to you all later and that you're doing well! Love you!

El Dia de los Muertos (NO! totally kidding! Happy Valentines Day!)

Hello family! Its been a long week over here, but it came to a close (thank goodness) and the prospect of some fun upcoming events are definitely something that has been keeping me going. In case you hadn't found out yet, I didn't make the choir, and the director was unhappy with the short amount of time that I could offer (three months is kinda short...) SO! there goes that plan... onto the next one!
I'm going to a church BBQ tomorrow, which should be quite... shall I say it?... diverting (Oh yes! I did. I guess I'm just in a Jane Austin mood). Though there are some people that know some people that I know from my stay in Madrid (I know, just stay with me!) I think I'm going to look elsewhere after this Sunday. I'm really interested in making friends with Spaniards, and an international church (though awesome) is just not the place to do it (plus, the sermons are in English, which kinda defeats the purpose of that activity). So! One of my friends has a roommate (again, bare with me!) who found an all Castilian church somewhat close to the school (and Protestant to boot!). I think I'm going to go check it out pretty soon, and will let you know how it goes.
Friday, I went to the Gothic Quarter and met up with one other student and a leader for a tour of that section. Its absolutely gorgeous! and so full of history! *squeak!* Not wanting to slow the tour down, I tried to take as little photos as possible and then went back later to fill in the gaps...

here are the good ones:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=16773&id=1323450019&l=eebbf


After that tour, we went back to the only bagel shop that leader has found in the city, and what should be on the menu (the secret, secret menu?!) PANCAKES!!!! WITH rEaL MAPLE SYRUP! *sob* ...they were yummy =)

After partaking in a delectable stack of cake-pans (mom-ism... SHOUT OUT!... HOLLA!) The tour of the Gaudi master piece La Perdrera began. It was a house built for an extremely wealthy family around the turn of the century by the famous architect. The most interesting factoid about the building is that the outside walls are strong enough that the apartments inside contain no internal weight baring walls, SO! if you don't like the floor plan... knock it down and build something else. The building won't topple down on you. Also, depending on which floor we were on affected the size of the windows. He wanted each apartment to have the same amount of light, so the bottom floors have giant windows, and the top floors are outfitted with more reasonably sized ones. Incredible! (This creates a stark contrast to the romantic era cathedrals in the area, as their towers have less windows on the bottom and more on the top, to lighten the weight and make the building more durable over time)... you've just been school.

So, that trip turned up some amazing photos, but! Don't worry, I selected the best and compiled them here for your viewing pleasure:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=16774&id=1323450019&l=adb5c


...I actually (for the first time ever!) completely maxed out my memory card on the camera. 178 photos is it's limit... Crystal, I think you would have been proud! You've turned me into a camera maniac. I even went to FNAC (like barnes and nobles) and looked at photography technique books. It's been a lot of fun getting to know that camera. (I've named her Daphne) Thank you SO much!

Well, I hope you're all having a wonderful St. Valentines Day! Talk to you later! Love you all!

Busy, but beautiful day...

*contented sigh*
My parents send me my glasses in the mail a little less than a week ago, and they arrived all safe and sound. Oh! they also sent me some delicious cookies... So, now I’m sitting in the kitchen munching on a piece of home, sipping some hot Jasmine Tea (another stow-away) and looking like a hot librarian. No, but really. =)

I have an audition for the university choir tomorrow. Wish me luck!

Hope you all had a fantastic day!

It's been a while!

Update time! I know... I’m sorry. =)
Umm... Let’s see. So much has happened in such a short period of time (I just typed a paper and my Spanish spell check is on. Apparently, I can’t spell anything correctly right now... except “has” hehe. Okay, it’s off. The perpetual red squiggly line was getting on my nerves. *ahem*) Mkay... from the beginning (Strap yourselves in folks! this could be a long one!... um... that’s what she said? I know, I shouldn’t have...).
On Saturday, I decided to climb the mountain behind the flat where I live, as I was in desperate need of some unpolluted air and... OH MY GOSH! Its absolutely breath-taking! I brought the gnome along... for good measure. Man! I can’t tell you how many conversations have begun with that Gnome... So, thanks Bryan (shout out!). He’s quite the conversation piece. =)
Anyways, as I was climbing, I kinda moved off of the beaten path further into the woods. Just being in the trees again was so calming. I could hear anything, with the exception of a few very chattery birds, and the air had that filtery-green look. MMmmm! I continued climbing (I really wanted to make it to the observatory at the top) but the trail became incredibly steep. I took many-a break (and pictures... had to justify the frequent stops somehow...) and eventually stumbled onto some mountain bikers, who guessed my nationality after the first word out of my mouth... actually, it wasn’t really a word. I had hit one of the steepest parts of the trail, and was panting so hard it really came out more like *Hellloooohhuummmmee ha* ...sad. As it turns out... I was on a mountain bike trail... heading up the “down” path, to be precise. Figures. That’s probably why I didn’t see anyone! Anyways, these guys were hilarious! Very friendly! When I told them that I was studying Spanish at UB (Universitat de Barcelona), one of them asked me “Oh! So, you speak Spanish?” When I said “yes” he said something to me... and I didn’t understand any of it ( I tried!). I politely told him that I could only speak Castilian (figuring it was Catalan). Simultaneously, his friend nudged him in the side and said “She speaks Spanish, not Portuguese!” We then laughed. A random friends. Oh, speaking of which, while we were joking around, another person came up the same path. This time, I think they said something to him in French. He wound up being American. Better luck next time! So, the four of us talked on a ledge overlooking the whole valley (or close to it) of Barcelona, until the other American and myself had found, captured, and incarcerated our breath (No! totally kidding... but, really- it was steep!). We continued on together, and had a good talk. Nice guy (Shout out, Brett!). Yep! I made it to the tippy-top of the mountain. Huzzah! Took a million photos of the Cathedral, and then of the Basilica on top of the cathedral (excessive, mucho?) and then headed down via bus. I know! cheater... whatever.
Yep, so that was Saturday. I woke up the next morning and went to church (Pain free, I might add! Why is it that I can hike up a freaking mountain for the first time in ages and not get sore, but I take two weeks off from riding and I can’t walk the next day. Where be the logic in that, I say?!). Anyways, back to church. It was very nice. There are a little over 100 people that go there, and just over 30 nationalities. Amazing! I talked to the translator afterwards (services are held in English and Spanish) and it turns out he knows the Madisons in Madrid (the friends that picked me up when I arrived) and his kids go to the same school that Paul and Bethany teach at! Horray, connections! Um, I’m also planning on going camping over Spring break with a group of friends (Shall be fun) and I talked to Thomas to work out some details (boo, internet connection!).
I went over to a friend’s apartment for lunch (she’s the girl that told me about the international church) and got to know her roommates a little better. They’re awesome! And, got my paper back in my Spanish writing class... which had been bleed on by the evil red pen, but also had some lovely doodles of flowers in the margins (not making that up, and no, I didn’t put them there. Apparently, when one uses the phrase Si hubieran tenido” correctly, a magical cartoon garden pops up on the paper. *sigh* my teachers are awesome! ... that, and I wrote about graffiti. T’was a solid first paper. =)
Well, tomorrow I have a field trip with my art history class, and then Thursday I have an audition for the University Choir. It will be taught in Spanish and Catalan. I’m pretty excited =) Um, yep. That’s all I can think of right now. I have a busy, busy weekend ahead of me. Looking forward to hearing from you all soon!

Love you lots!

Michelle

You can find the pictures from the hike here:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=16207&l=2e31f&id=1323450019

And the random doodlings at the end of the album here:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=34&l=3152a&id=1323450019


Enjoy!

Barcelona...

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=16106&l=a349f&id=1323450019


New pictures! Horray!

*Old man voice from Monty Python and the Holy Grail* "I'm feeling betteh!"

Thanks, to everyone who wrote me emails or talked to me online to make me feel better. It definitely helped! Well, needless to say, after yesterday’s going ons, I decided to get a little proactive about making some progress in the “Getting Used to this Place” department. I started out by going to school an hour early today, and wrote down all of the positive things I saw along the way. I know... It either sounds really silly, or like one of those “Let’s Get Along” exercises they make you do in Convo. at Loma (for those of you who haven’t experienced this yet, its a required psychology class), but it helped... a lot. By the time I actually got to school, I had a huge list... which I won’t bore you with, minus one: As I was exiting the metro, I saw an elderly lady drop her cain in the middle of the road near one to the taxi stands. She went to go and get it, but a cab driver stopped her and braved traffic himself. Very sweet. Oh! and I got a response back from my program director about the choir. The audition is in Catalan, but he said that he would help me figure it out and make a go at getting in. So excited! Oh! And I made some friends in my one of my classes. Well, we have a lot together, actually. Oh! and one of the girls I met up with found a protestant church, and invited me to come along. Today was a good day...

For my fellow study abroad friends, a few words of encouragement from my Dad (wow, guest blogger! sweet!). They helped a lot when I was feeling crumby:

Michelle,
I'm so proud of you. I was exciting for us to hear that you got placed
in the advanced Spanish classes. I also can identify with your
adjustment to life in Spain and the frustration with common things
that aren't so familiar nor so common from your cultural experience.

When we moved to Birmingham, I had to adjust to the cultural
differences. Some I appreciated (like basic courtesy), but some were
rather frustrating. It seemed that I frequently offended the
southerners with what I thought was commonly acceptable social
interaction. When I needed a driver's license, I couldn't find the DMV
(I needed the Revenue Office), When it rained, it got hotter and more
humid, not cooler. Foods that we were used to (mostly fresh
vegetables) were not found in the local supermarket, and if one could
find it, it was very expensive. There was a never ending parade of
creatures, critters, and bugs that I never have seen before nor since.

I could list some more, but I think you get the point, which is that I
felt out-of-place for a while during my adjustment to the southern
culture. However, I'm glad to have had the experience.

I'm encouraged to see that you acknowledge that you will eventually
adjust to the culture, and more than likely begin to feel as if you
fit in.

And thanks for the blog. You put your experiences and thoughts into
great visuals. I can hardly wait to read the next entry.

Love you lot's and lot's,

Dad