Merce

This weekend was Merce, a huge festival in Barcelona. In the past, the celebrations usually last for a week but because of the economic crisis, Merce was shortened to four days, Thursday the 22nd to Sunday the 25th. There´s a lot to do, both traditional activitives and performances, and everything is free. In general, music and concerts were concentrated in the Old Quarter or Barrio Gotic, theatrical performances in Montjuic and dance shows in the Parque de la Cuitadella. I never made it to Montjuic and overall, I think I did very little, but it was a wonderful experience. I´m still amazed by the idea of a city party, totally free, that is for everyone to enjoy. I don´t think we have anything that can compare in the United States. There are huge outdoor concerts and county fairs, but these things aren´t free and they aren´t created with the intention of bringing together an entire city in celebration. That is something that Spain does well. And everything was crowded.

On Thursday, Aimee, Raluca and I went to our free soccer game, somewhere on the outskirts of Barcelona at the end of Linea 5 (my train line). We had great seats, close to the ground behind one of the goals, but even better than that we were right next to the cheering section, which carried on songs and chants for the entire game and never sat down. We tried to catch some of the words and we learned that a shrill whistle is used for negative things, like a bad call by a ref, and its okay to flip off the other team´s goalie. It wasn´t a Barça match (like Knox would get us seats in Camp Nou), but it was RCD Espanyol, apparently the oldest (or one of the oldest) futbol teams in Spain and the first to have all their players be of Spanish origin. They played Getafe, a small Madrid team, and won 1-0 in overtime. Coming back, we went to Plaça de Sant Jaume and Av. de la Catedral to catch the concerts there. One was world music, the other was flamenco. Aimee and I attempted to follow the dancers around us at the flamenco concert, with varying results (I can´t dance, Aimee can). Friday I went back to Pl. de Sant Juame for the muestra de dragones y bestias de fuego. A parade of homemade dragons and demons paraded through the crowds at Jaume, exiting from the Government Building of Barcelona. The dragons spouted flames from fireworks attached to their horns, mouths and talons. Between dragons were small drumline groups, and if I were a child in Barcelona, I would aspire to be a drumliner, they were so cool. Afterwords, we treked out to the Parque de la Cuitadella for El Lago de los Cisnes (Swan Lake). It was basic ballet, but it took place (in parts) on a pond in the park and in the monument surrounding the main fountain.

Saturday was rainy, so I didn´t venture out for the gigantes in the morning. That night I met Areanna, Erik and Natalia for the exhibicion pirotecnica en la playa. It was good fireworks display and we managed to get close enough that each boom was deafening. It began to rain again at the very end, so we escaped to a pizza place toward the end of Barceloneta and split a pizza and vino tinto. Sunday I went out early for the castelles y sardanas, the two events I had really been looking forward to, back in the Pl. de Sant Jaume and Av. de la Catedral with Aimee and Areanna. Castelles didn´t go so well, because we were too far away to see well, standing in the direct sunlight and I almost passed out from dehydration. We managed to see a little, people stacking themselves two or three stories high, with small children scrambling to the top, before we escaped to some shade. The sardana is a traditional Catalunyan dance, in which dancers form a circle, hold hands, and dance in a very measured way. Aimee and I again tried to follow along, and it was a little easier than flamenco, because its slower paced and repetative. It reminded me of Israeli folk dancing at camp. That night I went with Laura and Kevin to the Pl. Espanya for the fireworks and music show. This was definietly more impressive than the fireworks at the beach, because the display was timed to the music (mostly American pop and classics) and went on for a good fourty minutes. From there we returned to Parque de la Cuitadella because Laura wanted to see Swan Lake, but we walked, which took about an hour (less, if we had been paying attention to where we were going).

The last part of my adventure was getting on the wrong nitbus. We had assumed that the metro would stay open later for Merce festivities, but this wasn´t true at all, so after Swan Lake we headed to Pl. Catalunya, the central location for every nitbus. I´d used the nitbus a few times, so I was sure I knew what I was doing. However, we ended up on the opposite end of Pl. Catalunya from where I catch my nitbus (N3 Collblanc to Torre Melinda), so I got on the N3 going the opposite way (to Montcada). I didn´t realize I was on the wrong bus because it was so full I couldn´t look out the window and see which streets we were on. I can tell the correct route because it´s the same one that my regular bus takes. When the bus had finally cleared out, I realized I was very far from home. We were about to get on some kind of highway or expressway. I got off there and ran across the street to the N3 station going in the other direction and waited about 20 minutes, at 2 in the morning, completely alone, for my bus to come. I wasn´t feeling afraid so much as stupid, because I should have figured out sooner that I was on the wrong bus. By the end of the night, it had taken me an extra hour to get home.

There´s a lot coming up in the next couple of weeks. Tonight is the beginning of Rosh Hashana, and unfortunately, I completely dropped the ball with that. I was hoping to find a group of students to celebrate with, and Toni did manage to locate a group that seems geared toward youth and welcomes international students, but I didn´t have enough time to contact them about services. Hopefully, I can join them for a Shabbat service in the next two months. I have been to church, but that was bizarre experience for me and probably my only instance of culture shock. I think it´s because I understand what´s happening and the traditions and technically the words are the same, but its a different language and people behave differently. One of these days I´ll go to mass at one of the huge old churches in the Gothic Quarter. Tomorrow, we´re going to see a play and Friday is my birthday (don´t ask me what I´m doing, Aimee is planning the whole thing and will probably only tell me what metro stop to meet at). Next week, on the 6th, we head off to our excursion in the Pyrennes. In the middle of that is Yom Kippur on the 8th and I´m considering fasting (not completely fasting, Mom. Smaller meals kind of fasting). When I return, it will be to an almost empty house. For the past couple of weeks, besides mi madre espanyola, there is her son, his wife, their dog, and the Frenchman. The Frenchman (as I call him) is a student in another group for Europeans (probably Erasmus, which is a big one, although I haven´t asked). We get along alright and he spends most of his time on the internet. But when I get back from the mountains, everyone will have left and it will be me and mi madre. Hopefully by then I won´t be so timida, shy, as she calls me. I try to talk, but I can´t always find the words I´m looking for and I end up saying nothing. My biggest fear is that I´ll return from Spain with only marginally better Spanish. I can keep up in my classes but its the regular conversations with others that still stump me. I need to be menos timida y mas fuerte.

TMB

Walking, I live an hour away from the University of Barcelona and el centro. The one time I did attempt to walk, I went straight up Gran Via to the Placa Espanya and Carrer de la Creu Coberta until I finally reached Collblanc. It was hot and tiring and wouldn’t have been worth it if it wasn’t for the Place Espanya. It’s a huge roundabout surrounded by enormous buildings and I will have to go back sometime.

What’s great about my neighborhood is the plethora of options for transportation. I live about three blocks from the Collblanc metro station (blue line or L5), there are bus and nitbus stations right on my block and around the corner is the tram. I have now taken about every form of transport. I usually take the bus (number 54) to school because I can look out the window. It takes Collblanc to Av. de Madrid to Muntaner (approximately). The metro is faster, but hotter and usually has more people. I have to transfer to the red line/L1 at Placa de Sants to make it to the University. The tram can’t take me all the way to school, but it goes to Diagonal, which bisects Barcelona. The tram is certainly the fastest and cleanest of all the options. When I went to Tibidabo last weekend, I had to transfer to L7, part of FGC, a line of underground trams that fall under Catalunya jurisdiction. I’ve also now taken the nitbus, the boon of the late night partiers, which starts running after the rest of TMB have shut down for the night. The N3 gets me right to my block. 

I took the nitbus last night because I went to the Harlem Jazz Club (yeah, really) to see a flamenco performance. It was a really good time and was much more successful than seeing that incredibly unsettling Almodovar film earlier in the day. Afterwards, we broke into two groups, some people going off to a discoteca to see a dubstep battle, the rest of us opting for tapas and sangria (I picked tapas). When I got home, it was just me and the stray cats.

Tibidabo

Something I was discussing with Laura, one of the girls in my group, is how we feel like we've regressed all of a sudden. For about a week, we felt that our Spanish was steadily improving, and now it's as though we've taken a step back, or possibly we've hit a wall in our knowledge. It's frustrating, because the desire to communicate (and communicate well) is very strong, but our comprehension is limited. I worry that I'll never improve beyond a certain, still very basic point. Of course I'll keep working, listening, and speaking, but I do get down on myself sometimes.

On Saturday, Aimee and I went to Tibidabo, a mountain in Barcelona with some very nice houses and an amusement park sitting on top of it. We took an underground tram and two more trams to the top. Thank goodness for Aimee, or I would have stopped at the third tram. The amusement park is pretty basic, a stripped down kiddy land. What you go for is the views, or the fact that you're on a roller coaster on the side of a mountain. There is a church at the top, which had earlier hosted a wedding and was still covered in rose petals. It was a good trip, not too touristy and very picturesque. Today we had our first classes, which for me was Contemporary Spanish Novels. Tomorrow I have Art and Grammar. Looks like I'm in school again.

I finished The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and I'm starting Cloud Atlas.

La familia y el internet

I'm currently blogging through Google Espana and I'm stealing internet from the hotel several blocks away. Cool.

On Sunday I moved in with my family. I live on the Aviguda de Xile, en un piso (like an apartment) on the 11th floor. From our balcony, I can see mountains and directly below us is a sporting club, and there are tennis courts, soccer fields and an area for horseback riding. Our neighborhood is mas tranquilo del centro, the area where we stayed in our hotel. It's a little far to walk to the University from my apartment, so tomorrow I will buy a T-Jove, the 90 day transport ticket for students under 25.

My host mother is Isobel and she's very sweet. I appreciate how much she talks to me, even though I was too nervous to talk back in the beginning. I'm already getting better, giving short answers to questions instead of just saying "Si si si vale" to everything, and I've initiated a few conversations. She's horrified by how "little" I eat. To put that in context, I can eat a who plate of food, and she'll be concerned when I don't want more. A quick side note on food, I have tried new things. I ate fried eggs for dinner the other day, and I've had a couple tapas with los frutas del mar. It helps that many things are fried.

With us in our piso are Jose Luis, Leah y Gea. Jose Luis is Isobel's son and Leah is his wife. Leah is a 2008 graduate of Knox College (clearly, Barcelona is the place to find a husband). They're both very nice and it helps to have Leah around to translate sometimes, but they're both out of the house a lot. They have a home farther away, but they moved in with Isobel because Jose Luis was having trouble commuting to and from the city. Gea es la perra, our dog. She is technically Jose Luis' dog, but from what I can tell, Isobel takes care of her. Gea has a lot of energy because she is from the mountains and produces more red blood cells (this was explained to me half in English and half in Spanish, so I doubt I'm completely correct). She's a handful, but she's que guapa (interestingly, I'm called "guapa" too).

I'm very happy. I get frustrated when there's a word I don't know or when I've spoken incorrectly, but I feel like I'm getting better. It's a matter of constantly forcing myself to listen and speak, so that the words stick in my head. It may be interesting to note that I had trouble with my English in this post and I often started words in Spanish. Maybe one day I'll write an entire post in Spanish without meaning to.

Dia de Gaudi

Our orientation in Spain can generally be marked by walking and eating. Today we explored the Old Quarter surrounding our hotel and the Mercat Boqueria, a large outdoor market off Las Ramblas. We had lunch in a restaurant on a side street and then visited La Padrera, the Gaudi museum/former residence. From there we took a bus to Parque Guell, another Gaudi area, an enormous park covered in mosaics, fountains, overlooks and trails. We climbed to one of its highest points, which features a cross on a stone hill, and has views of most of the city. We continued through the streets of Gracia, a Barcelona neighborhood, seemingly in circles, until we stopped for dinner in a paella restaurant.

Tomorrow we move in with our families. I’m nervous (again) because I know this is when things get real. So far I’ve managed to follow Toni’s castellano and string together a few sad sentences of my own, but I’ve mostly communicated in English with my peers. Tomorrow I need to man up and integrate myself with the language. My worry is that I won’t understand my host mother. While I have a basic education in Spanish, I have yet to develop a good ear for it. What is a clear sentence to others is one long, confused word to me. I can manage a few context clues, but that’s all. I can only pray for una madre who will be patient with me and allow me a few weeks to get this under control. If I still can’t comprehend most of the language I hear by the end of September, I may as well go home.   

Caminar al cuidad

Yesterday was our first full day and it was certainly full. We were out of the hotel by 10am and I didn't get to bed until 3am (although that was entirely my fault). We walked to the University of Barcelona, which is about 15 to 20 minutes away from our hotel via Las Ramblas. I'm going to say it now, I'm not a fan of the Ramblas. They're crowded, not very interesting and full of people trying to sell you things. At night, they're full of pushy men trying to get women into bars. It's the small side streets that are really worthwhile and get you to the better stores and tapas bars.

The University is a big, old, beautiful building and it's gardens are covered in stray cats. We had a quick orientation with Toni and got some more information about our program and our families. Moving in with our families tomorrow will be my next big hurdle. My speaking and comprehension skills have a long way to come before I can consider myself a proficient Spanish speaker. Hopeful mi madre will take pity on me and not get frustrated when I give her my deer in headlights look that I've perfected during two years of college Spanish.

After the University, we took the metro (I love the metro) to la Sagrada Familia, an almost overwhelming tourist destination. What I didn't realize was that only in the last 10 years have they completed the interior and what I was seeing was fairly new. It was also ordained a Basilica by the Pope a year ago. It's amazing to see such a grand work in progress. From there we went to the boardwalk area of Barceloneta. We were supposed to bike along, but we were late (something I feel will be a theme this term) and so we walked instead. We didn't end up having dinner until 11:00pm and we finally returned to the hotel at 1:00am. And of course, because we're kids that are suddenly considered of legal drinking age, we visited a nearby Irish bar.

I'm having a wonderful time so far, but the challenge of communication begins tomorrow. We'll see how it goes.

Arrival

I'm officially in Barcelona. I flew from Chicago to Madrid and then had to trek across Madrid's enormous (but seriously cool) airport to my connecting flight to Barcelona. Now I'm sitting in a Starbucks (of course) using their free internet to update my life. I'm feeling much more comfortable now that I'm here and have met people I know. My Spanish needs a lot of work, but, like a dork, I made myself flash cards. Barcelona is beautiful. I gravitated toward the ample graffiti, since I spent all summer observing the graffiti of Chicago from the EL.  Tomorrow we begin to explore and I'm looking forward to spending time with the other people in the program. Fingers crossed I don't have jet lag!