My ears are bleeding

Now it is officially May 1^st and I have exactly 17 more days of school and 3 full weekends in Valverde left. Yes time is winding down but I’m not all that sad about it. I don’t wish time went faster but I also don’t wish it would slow up. I’m happy that my Spanish journey is coming to a close. It’s too early to write a true reflection on my time here yet but I’ve started thinking about what I’d say more and more. In the back of my mind I keep saying this might be my last chance to do this or see that. I’m now bringing my camera everywhere I go, including to school every day. I plan on capturing as much of Valverde as I can with it. Today I walked around Valverde and took photos of half of my favorite spots. Next week I’ll hit up the second half. I always look back at my photo albums and say I could have taken more photos so I’m trying really hard to not have to say that about Valverde.

I learned recently that the majority of my adult friends all have facebook and while I’m very much against adding adults (aka people my parents age) as friends I might have to make an exception for them. When I take into consideration the fact that they probably won’t be able to understand the majority of things on my profile or what people write on my wall I feel better about it. The only dilemma I have is with my pictures. To let them see them or not? I don’t have anything embarrassing or inappropriate online but I guess I just worry that when adults can see my “facebook life” it might just alter their perception of me. At the same time it might just give them a better sense of who I am since my life back home is so different from the one I lead here.

So last Thursday Christen and I got the chance to tag along on quinto’s field trip to Seville. When I first learned that the fifth grade was having a field trip on Wednesday I was intrigued but didn’t really want to go since I don’t know the fifth graders at all and from what Christen tells me about them I’m kind of glad I don’t have to teach them. Well Christen expressed interest in going but I remained silent. I was much more interested in going on the field trip to Los Pinos the following Thursday (so this Thursday). Later on in the day I received a text from Pocho saying “You are going to Seville tomorrow. Pack a lunch.” What??!! I didn’t even know what we were going to see or do in Seville or who was going along (teacher wise). At my lesson with Ana I asked her about it. Ana told me that normally she is supposed to go on the trip but this year she said no. She said that she didn’t want to go because for starters she’s already been to Italica and the Catedral many a times, second she doesn’t like going with the older kids in school because it’s a lot more chaotic, thirdly she doesn’t like the way the quinto teachers handle situations, and finally she feels like the addition of parents just makes if one more person she has to account for. She says the parent chaperone’s go off and get coffee and she has to find them as well as the kids when it’s time to move. All of this information made me really excited to go. Despite that she did say that Italica is very beautiful and worth seeing. It’s kind of similar to the Roman Forum in Italy, it’s remnants of Roman ruins. After hearing everything Ana had to say it didn’t seem like it would be all that bad, especially since I didn’t really have a say in the matter. I also took comfort in the fact that Christen was going on the excursion as well.

Thursday morning I got to school with a smaller bag packed with sunscreen, a large lunch, a water bottle, and a camera. Christen thought that we were going to ride in Esperanza’s car (one of the quinto teachers) instead of the bus which would have been heavenly, but that didn’t end up happening. In the end there were no parent’s accompanying us, just the two quinto teachers, Toni (my neighbor) and Esperanza, and Christen and myself. We had to account for 42 students all by ourselves. It became apparent right off the back that these fifth graders were no angles. They were extremely loud, didn’t follow directions, and were rude to us. It was interesting keeping everyone together as we walked through the streets of Seville. I had Toni leading and Esperanza bringing up the rear so that meant it was Christen and mine’s job to hold everyone together. It was a little hard for me because I didn’t know anyone’s name so all I could say was commands in Spanish like, “walk”, “let’s go”, and “stop”. When we got to the Catedral it wasn’t as bad as I thought keeping everyone together. When it was time to climb the 34 flights of ramps (not stairs because it was meant for men on horses to climb to the top of the bell tower) it quickly became apparent why Christen and I were asked, scratch that, forced to come. Neither Esperanza (because she was pregnant) nor Toni (because she’s old) had ever planned on going to the top with the kids. Very clever, very clever indeeeeeeeed. It was my job to lead the kids up and Christen’s job to bring up the rear. It wasn’t a big deal or anything but it would have been nice to have had more warning about the trip instead of less than 24 hours and that they had told me straight up the purpose of me coming. I had to sacrifice 32 Euros worth of lessons for this trip.

Anyway, I lead the kids up 34 flights of ramps with no much struggle. It was a good calf workout for me. I had to stop the kids a few times in order to create a gap between the older couple in front of us. I was trying not to rush them but it was hard because the kids just wanted to get to the top and the couple was walking so slowly. The worst part of the climb was the noise level. These kids already scream when they talk to each other so add that to an enclosed area that amplifies sounds and you get bleeding ears. I’ve maybe complained about loud noises once or twice in my life, probably at a concert, but this was by far the worst. The couple in front of us shushed me a few times as they walked, as if I could control the sounds that came out of those monsters. We finally reached the top and I was able to hear again. I was really shocked at how out of shape most of the kids were. About half of them got to the top huffing and puffing as if that was intense and a handful of them sat down on the closest step and didn’t move the entire time we were up at the bell tower. You know something’s wrong when two twenty something adults can climb ramps and fifth grader’s cannot. All I could do was my head in disappointment. I would have expected this from American children, but not Spanish children.

After the tower we walked back to the bus and then drove to El Parque de Maria Luis for lunch. We let the kids roam free and told them to meet us at the bus at 1:45pm. While the kids fed pigeon’s and walked around the park we sat at a café and ate our packed lunches. After lunch it was back to the bus and on to our last destination, Italica. It wasn’t that far from the city center of Seville, but definitely on the outside of the city. It was very hot out and we were supposed to go on a guided walking tour of the site. We had two guides so we divided the students up into their classes. I got Toni’s class and Christen got Esperanza’s class. Once again the adults sat this one out and let the youngster’s deal with the children. The tour was in Spanish (no surprise) but my guide spoke slowly so I was able to pick up a lot of what she was talking about. The first part of our tour was in the shade of the underground part of the ruins so that wasn’t so bad. As soon as we switched to the outdoor part the kids started to misbehave. This one boy would always lag behind or wait at a different part of the tour instead of staying with the group. When the kids would tell me that Marcelo was over somewhere I decided not to give the boy the attention he was trying to attract so I just ignored him. Sure enough my inability to “give a damn” worked it’s magic and the boy finally gave up and joined the rest of the group.

After Italica it was back home to Valverde. We left at 9:20am and returned to Valverde around 5:30pm. It was a long day. The only part I couldn’t stand about the entire trip was how loud the kids were. My ears hurt so much by the time I got home. The bus rides were the worst part of the excursion. Christen had to scream in order to talk to me and I was sitting right next to her. It was unbelievable how loud they could get. Well I guess you could say I survived my first Spanish field trip. Next week the entire school is walking from Valverde to Los Pinos and having a picnic outside for lunch. And when I say the whole school I mean only the older kids, the youngsters will meet us there by bus. And when I say the older kids I mean the fifth and sixth graders. All we are doing is walking the green path that I run on. It’s a straight path surrounded by plants and farms, nowhere to run off. I understand the younger kids not walking but I think the third graders as well as the fourth graders should be able to handle it, but that’s just my opinion. If you ask me, a few of the fourth graders could benefit from a little “rigorous” exercise. I’m excited nonetheless because I get to wear this t-shirt that the whole school will wear. Unfortunately the school didn’t make enough shirts for Christen and I so we get to wear last year’s shirt. I get to keep it so I could care less what year it’s from. When Christen found out the shirt would be purple she refused to wear it and insisted that she would just wear a white shirt. Purple’s not a good color on her so she won’t wear it. I’m actually serious, that’s what she said and she was dead serious. I mean come on, how pretentious do you have to be that you can’t wear a dumb t-shirt for one afternoon? I didn’t say this out loud but I was thinking it. Pocho and another teacher just laughed and thought it was funny but I didn’t find it amusing at all. I should say that this wasn’t the first time Christen’s been difficult like that (in school and when traveling) but this was probably my favorite example. I plan to take lots of pictures of the excursion, purple t-shirt(s) included.

Good news: I bought new light bulbs and put them in all by myself. Take that lazy dueno (landlord) that does nothing! I don’t need you. I no longer need to use my estufa to light up my bedroom. Hurray! By replacing my broken light bulb I discovered that I have only ever had one of two light bulbs installed so now that I put both of them in I have more light than ever before. Wahoo. Bad news, I have a hormigas infestation. I guess the constant sunlight drives the ants indoors. Funny though, in America it’s rainfall that produces indoor bug issues? No te preocupes for I’m taking care of it as best I can. I only got a month left so there’s no need to buy insect spray when I might only use it once or twice. Tissues are my weapons of choice :)

Yesterday I spent my free Friday at the beach. It was hot and not too crowded. I applied sunscreen too often so even though I was out for four hours straight I didn’t really get any tanner besides burning on my back at the place I couldn’t reach. That’s a good and a bad thing I guess. Nothing exciting really happened at the beach, just reading and walking in and out of the water. The usual beach stuff. As I waited for the bus back to Huelva another guy waiting decided to play his music out loud for everyone to hear. If that wasn’t bad enough he decided to sing along to it. One of my biggest pet peeves in Spain is when people play their music out loud for everyone to hear in public places. It is so rude and yet it is accepted. Most of the time it’s a teenage girl or boy blasting the same techno crap without any lyrics from the back of the bus at 9am. I can’t put into words how much I hate it. I guess the other people aren’t as bothered by it because they are talking so loudly that they can’t hear it. Between the unnecessarily loud way people talk to one another and the music playing in public places I wouldn’t be all that surprised if I come home to the states with sever hearing loss. Joder!

I arrived in Huelva from the beach with five minutes to catch the 4pm bus to Valverde otherwise I would have to wait until 5 for the next one. If only I was allowed to buy my ticket on the bus I wouldn’t have a problem making these buses but no, I have to wait in line at the ticket booth. By the time I get to the window the lady tells me the ticket is for 5pm. I reply with my usual infuriated “vale”. I guess she sensed my mood because she printed a ticket for 4pm and said I should hurry. I ran to the bus as it was pulling away. Another girl was ahead of me and got the bus to stop so I was able to catch it. SHE BOUGHT A TICKET ON THE BUS without any problem. Why is it that I’m never allowed to???????? WHYYYYYYYYYYY? As I handed my ticket to the driver he said something in Spanish to the equivalent of “I wonder why the ticket lady gave you a ticket for the 4pm bus because you’re cutting it really close? I don’t know how you made it.” All I could say was “I ran” followed by a disdainful glare. I’m good at glaring. Thanks to Damas I’ve had lots of time to practice perfecting it.

I’m sorry if a lot of my entries deal with my loathing of Damas but it truly is a major part of my life here and therefore it needs to be written about. If I held back all of my experiences with Damas my entries wouldn’t be half as long or as entertaining—or at least that’s how I look at it. However if you would prefer me to keep the impending horrible Damas experiences to myself just say the word.

Haha I just stumbled on something I wrote a little while back in my journal. It seems like a suitable way to end this entry. Keep in mind that this was written during a period of heightened distress so if it appears harsh I apologize.

10 Things I Hate About Spain

1. DAMAS BUS

2. DAMAS BUS

3. DAMAS BUS

4. DAMAS BUS

5. DAMAS BUS

6. Smoking

7. When a guy says “tranquila” or cat-calls

8. Obnoxiously loud talking or music playing

9. Seafood in everything (and not the good kind)

10. Pushy old people (you know who you are…)

"I wouldn't want to mess with him. He could pull out his blow gun." - Mom

Saturday morning I woke up bright and early in order to catch the first bus of the morning to Huelva and then to Seville. As expected the bus to Huelva took it’s sweet time and I just missed the bus at 9am by 5 minutes, which is the equivalent of having to wait in line to buy a ticket instead of simply purchasing one on the bus. I would much prefer missing the bus by 15 minutes or even a half hour, but seeing the bus pull away and having to spend another hour just sitting at the bus station sucks to high heavens. When I got to Seville I took my usual route from the bus station to the center of Seville. I know that part of Seville very well, but it was a lot trickier finding my parents hotel since there are no direct roads in Seville. You have to take several side streets (aka tiny alleys) that aren’t on any map just to find your destination. That’s just how it goes. I thought I knew how to get there but after taking one wrong turn I couldn’t locate my position so I pulled out the map and tried my best to figure where I went wrong all while sweating profusely. As I was doing this a man came up to me and asked if I needed help finding something. I told him in Spanish but he responded in English (as usual). He took my bag and my sweater and told me to follow him. He said that he had lived in Austen, Texas for a few years so he was familiar with English and America. As we got to the hotel I saw my dad sitting in the lobby, waiting for me. The man introduced himself to my dad (his name was Paco) and told him he was meeting his future son-in-law. It was a joke. Paco left and I was finally reunited with my parents.

When the room was finally ready we put our bags inside, freshened up and then headed to Plaza Espana and then to the Feria which was located a good ways away across the bridge in Barrio Triana. It was very hot out but that didn’t stop the women and children from wearing long dresses and sometimes matching shawls. Even little babies were dressed for the occasion. Each little girl swimming in a see of brightly colored polka dots with matching accessories. The colors were amazing and the fact that every woman had matching shoes to their dress was quite impressive. The men for the most part were not dressed up, but little boys were. The occasional man would strut down the central road, riding his horse or “cruising” as my dad called it. He believed that the men and woman riding their horses was no different from men and women driving their convertibles and showing off. The entrance to Feria is marked by a giant structure of curves and colors that changes every year. It is an impressive sight but probably a lot prettier at night when it is all lit up. Behind the structure is row after row of casetas or tents. Almost all of them are private, meaning you need to be invited to go in, and manned with a security guard. My friend Nicole told me that if you know enough Spanish you can probably sweet talk your way past any guard. Yeah that doesn’t really apply to me. Each tent is decorated differently and is looks like a portable restaurant dinning area. Some were bigger than others and most of them were playing music. However it must have been hot inside the tents for there were no fans. Apart from the casetas was a giant area dedicated to fair rides and games.

They had everything a normal state fair would have: roller coasters, small rides, carnival games, and the occasional food vendor. It was cool to see a giant ferris wheel but the whole sight was no different from an American carnival EXCEPT for one ride. I kid you not I found a merry-go-round with actual real life ponies. It was quite possibly the saddest thing I’ve ever seen. The little ponies were chained to a contraption that kept them from veering in any direction besides in a circle. This one pony kept hitting his head against the restriction, trying desperately to deviate from the monotonous circle. It broke my heart and I couldn’t watch for more than a few seconds. What seemed so odd to me was that the ride was right next to a normal merry-go-round; you know the one with FAKE animals that go up and down to the conductors delight. Talk about animal cruelty. I was also told that the Feria is a lot of fun at night. Everyone dances Sevilliano, drinks a lot, and enjoys each other’s company. It’s just all about connecting and networking really. You get invited to private tents because you know so and so, who knows another person, who invited your friend, who in return takes you, and so forth. There really isn’t anything in America quite like Feria. My friend Emily said it was kind of like prom; where you buy a dress, shoes, accessories, get your hair done and so on but it’s only for one night. Feria is every year and involves the entire community.

I’m really glad I got a chance to check it out but it definitely would have been better if I had been invited to a private tent or had friends with connections. Being a tourist at Feria isn’t that great. We couldn’t find the public tents (nor were they well marked) and therefore were surrounded by people eating and enjoying themselves in the shade as we salivated and walked tiredly in the hot sun. I had to admit I wasn’t in the best of moods so I was good and ready to leave Feria as soon as my parents were. There weren’t any places to sit down and the only food we could find was a churro, ice cream, and hamburger vendor. How nutritious! I didn’t want to go on any rides and my legs were too tired to really explore the giant fair in order to find the public tents so we headed back to the hotel to rest up. My mom did however buy a flower to put in her hair so that she blended in with the rest of the women at Feria. I on the contrary did not.

Back at the hotel we lucked out and got to watch two Premiere league games as we relaxed and rested before going out to dinner and then to La Carboneria. I took my parents to Levies’ for some awesome tapas for dinner. We sat outside and enjoyed our food. This was my last meal with them so we ordered food that they had yet to try and could also check off their list, okay that only applied to my mother. The food was amazing and my parents especially like the croquetas de espinacas. So much so that we ordered another round of them. After dinner it was just a walk around the corner to the flamenco show. I didn’t expect to be the first ones there but we were so we got the honor of sitting anywhere we wanted. The last thing on my mother’s list of things to try was Sangria and I told her to hold out for the Sangria at La Carboneria because it was fabulous. It didn’t disappoint.

When the performers took the stage I was a little disheartened that the shushing woman and the lead singer wasn’t on stage. It ended up for the better because this woman was much better. She really committed to the dance and showed a lot of passion with her movements, facial expressions, and her hands. She danced with her whole body. The other woman mostly danced from her torso down (not including the hands. That’s an essential part to any flamenco performance). However this singer wasn’t my favorite. I preferred the original guy. The only difference this time around was the addition of a flute player to accompany the talented guitar player. The entire show was very good and I was just happy that my parents got to sit front stage to it. They could really see how fast the woman’s feet moved and how red the hands of “the clapper” got by the end of the show. Another successful night out. I can’t really think of anything going wrong for my parents, which is very fortunate. They got to see everything I wanted them to see and more. They ended up driving through every region in Andalucía except Almeria (no loss there), seven in total and got to see two places I won’t even get a chance to see, Ronda and the Mesquita in Cordoba. My dad got to see his favorite team play up close and personal and my mom got to try everything on her list and then some. I just got the chance to be truly at home, something I’ve only really experienced one other time and that was when Kerry came to visit me.

It's Fish, not Feesh

We landed in Seville, got our rental car, and with the assistance of my hand-written set of extremely detailed directions courtesy of my adult student Paco (detailed drawing included) we headed in the direction of Valverde. Scratch that, first we pulled over to the side of the highway because my father couldn’t figure out how to make the car go over 30 mph. Once we got that figured out it was on forth to Valverde. Oops, yeah we missed our first exit and had to turn around. After having completed a loop of the airport NOW we were ready to make our way to Valverde.

After a rocky start it was smooth sailing all the way to Valverde. We had enough time to check into the hotel, freshen up, and tour my house and surrounding neighborhood all before our first of two dinner dates. The first night our hosts were Ana and her family. They were delightful as always and had a giant feast of tapas (all my favorite’s and a few new one’s) all ready for us. I never doubted for a moment that we wouldn’t have an amazing night. Antonio kept my dad busy with stories and anecdotes about Spanish history and culture while Ana and my mom talked about cooking and art. My mother received a tour of the house and an up close look at all of the artwork that surrounded their lovely house. Sergio spoke about five words more than usual and remained at the table for a record of 15 minutes. I was lucky enough to get a picture of everyone together before Sergio went to bed and Paco left. I was so overwhelmed with joy that my parents finally got to meet the people I’ve talked about for so long in person and got to experience their warmth and charm personally. Like I had expected the meal didn’t end until around 2am and only at my mother’s insistence. They would have gladly continued talking and drinking wine with us until daylight but my parents had to get up early because they were going to school with me the next morning so we eventually departed. Another successful dinner at the house of Ana’s (as the Spanish would say).

The next day I picked up my parents at their hotel and walked them over to the school. I gave them a short tour of the school and they got to meet Pocho before accompanying me to my first primero class with Toni. I did my best to prepare my parents for an hour of noise and ensued chaos. Unfortunately the students were finishing up an art project from the previous session so class wasn’t conducted as usual. I did my best to keep order, with no help from the actual teacher, but you can’t control 25 kids at the same time your helping one individual. It could have been a lot worse but it wasn’t the kid’s best behavior by any means. When everyone had finished the kite I had about ten minutes to introduce the next unit, fish. The first time I made the kids repeat the word fish I ended up saying “feesh” and it just stuck after that so I couldn’t go back to “fish”. It was my British English coming out. I’m so use to hearing Rocio say a word first in a British Spanish accent and then having to repeat it that way even though we say it a little differently in America. For example all of the kids say “bean” instead of “bin”, aka trashcan. It might sound like a small difference but it greatly affects my speech and now I end up saying, “bean” and consequently “feesh”. Just wait until you hear me in person once I return. It will take me a while before I’ll lose my robot voice and British voice.

It was now time for the second primero class with Rocio. What a contrast. The kids were angels and silent for the majority of the class. It was clear to my parents that Rocio maintains total control over her class at all time. She doesn’t tolerate “toneria” and isn’t afraid to discipline. I much prefer Rocio’s strict order to chaos but at the same time I wish I had a little more interaction or free time to help the kids more. I only really assist a child if I notice an error on his or her paper or if one of the slower kids falls behind and Rocio loses patience with him so she asks me to help him out (it’s always a boy). After class I found out that Manuel #1 (there are 5 in that class) took a liking to my dad and they had fun with each other. My mother was also very impressed with a girl that was right in front on her (Luna) because she was extremely organized and took control of situations that needed to be fixed. Once class was over my mother used the water closet while my dad got to interact with Pocho’s third grade class. They introduced themselves to him (one at a time) and asked him all kinds of questions (what’s your favorite animal, what’s your favorite food). They were very cute and enjoyed asking him questions. When their class was over they all made sure to say goodbye to my dad. Before my parents left to explore Valverde on their own they got to meet a few of my colleagues downstairs in the staff room. After they left every teacher came up to me and said that they could visibly tell how happy I was that they were here because I couldn’t stop smiling. It was true, I had waited a long time to show my parents my life over here and they were finally getting to experience a day in my life. I tried but I just couldn’t stop smiling.

My parents met up with me once school was over so we could go to the grocery store together before lunch. Elisa and Pablo had decided to make paella for lunch and invited us to join them at three. After picking up some wine for the lunch and a few snacks for my parents for the road we headed back to my place. When we arrived a little after 3 the place was packed with people. A handful of Elisa and Pablo’s work friends were gathered in the terrace as well as Corrie, Kate, and Ruben. I introduced my parents to everyone and shortly after we got to sit down and eat. Since we didn’t have enough chairs for everyone one of Elisa’s friends got out lawn chairs from the back of his car. This was my first homemade paella experience as well as my parents. The paella consisted of mussels, clams, octopus, cuddle fish, chicken, prawns, rice, and peppers. Instead of the usual yellowish orange color that is typical of paella due to the use of saffron, this paella was dark green instead. My dad really enjoyed it but my mom wasn’t as big a fan mainly because of the kinds of seafood that was in it. I’ve had paella in Spain four times and every time I end up only eating the rice so I’ve come to the realization that I’m just not a big fan of it. There are other typical Spanish foods that I would be more inclined to eat.

After a filling lunch my parents thanked Pablo and Elisa for hosting and headed back to the hotel while I took a much-needed siesta. I really needed to catch up on my sleep so I passed out from 4pm- 7:30pm. Tonight we had another dinner date but this time with Pocho and her family. Christen was also planning on attending so that was good because we ended up needing her translating skills. We had another wonderful meal with Pocho’s entire family. She cooked different tapas that my parents had yet to try so they really enjoyed that. She made salmorejo and ensaladilla just for them. I just under strict orders from my mother to get the recipe for the ensaladilla before I return home. While the conversation wasn’t quite as free flowing as the night before we all had enjoyed ourselves and my parents got a chance to get to know both Pocho and her husband Antonio. I myself hadn’t spent much time with Antonio so this was also a great chance for me to get to know him a little better. My parents were really quite tired so at around 12:30am we called it a night and said our goodbyes. Another successful night. This was way better than eating out at one of two mediocre restaurants in Valverde.

The next morning I had to say my goodbyes to my parents for it was time for them to explore the rest of Andalucía on their own. They had three days of sight seeing alone in Ronda, Estipone, Granada, and Cordoba. On Saturday I was going to meet back up with them as they explored Feria and the other touristic sights of Seville.

Geez, you're SO Gaudi!

I had the wonderful pleasure of visiting Barcelona two weeks ago. Better yet I got to experience the wonderful city with my parents. I was eager to see them and share my knowledge of Spanish culture with them through first hand experiences. My journey started out rocky, as always I guess. Thursday afternoon I took the usual bus from Valverde to Huelva. I was faced with the same situation as before where I arrived just in time to make the 6pm bus but the bus driver wouldn’t let me buy my ticket on the bus and told me to go to the ticket booth. Once again he told me to leave my luggage below and as before I begrudgingly obliged. I had a little comfort knowing that the man behind me also left his luggage below and was behind me in line to buy tickets. I finally bought my ticket and ran to the bus. The bus was gone. The man and me were fuming. The bus driver acknowledged that we had luggage on his bus and were buying tickets and yet continued to leave without giving us the courtesy of a heads up or leaving our baggage behind. I then proceeded to send an angry, fowl-mouthed text message to my dad telling him what just happened. The man and I went up to the head security guard and told him what happened. The guard said he would contact the bus when it got to Seville and he told us not to worry—“No te preocupes. No pasa nada.” I just scowled at the man and walked away. Don’t tell me not to worry. For all I know my luggage will end up like my mom’s friend Lenore’s (it’s a long story but basically rebels stole it from a bus in Africa and then demanded money for its return which never happened).

So an hour later than I intended to arrive in Seville the man and I went searching for the Damas office. We found a little office with both of our bags in a corner (thank god). We both went in but another bus driver who was driving by told us to wait outside for him to assist us. We both waited for the man but after 5 minutes I was like f* this, this is ridiculous and I shouldn’t have to wait anymore. We both retrieved our bags and departed. I told you, every time I ride a bus something happens. Oh and it’s never once been a good thing. Ay dios mio.

Since my flight to Barcelona was at 9am on Friday I was forced to spend Thursday night in Seville and thankfully I had a couch to sleep on at Emily’s (once again). I really enjoy Emily and all of her roommates. They are always so welcoming and they treat me like a fourth roommate. We spent the night exchanging stories about our travels and comparing future plans for after Spain. I invited Emily to accompany me on my final trip in June because I knew she didn’t have any plans and was just going to go home right after school ended but she politely declined. She too was ready to go home and didn’t want to postpone it any longer than necessary. Nicole, one of Emily’s roommates, gave me all kinds of suggestions on what to do and see in Athens so that was really helpful as well.

Friday morning I hauled a taxi and made my way to the airport. After checking in I stopped in the small bookshelf and noticed that they did indeed carry books in English, Hooray! I was going to purchase the third and final book from the Millennium series, which I was dyeing to read, but alas I only had 10 Euros and the book was 15 and the man wouldn’t accept a card. So close! After a delay in boarding the plane I was finally in my seat. Unfortunately for me I was placed in the middle of this large group of Spanish friends, aging around 26 years old, all flying in a plane for the first time. First off all of them talked extremely loud, like unnecessary loud, and they were right next to each other. Second, the man behind me, who I figured was like the ring leader of the group, kept poking his head in between my seat to talk to his friends as well as constantly knocking my seat. Third there were an incessant number of pictures being taken. I understand being excited about flying for the first time but they were adults for crying out loud, get a grip. The best part was take-off. The two girls next to me sandwiched me against the window in order to see out the window and every little sound or jolt that the plane made released an equal exasperation or cry of worry from everyone in the group. I was in hell. I tried to rest my eyes/fall asleep but every so often the girl next to me would reach over and adjust the window shade. First it was up, and then it was down, and then it was halfway up, and then it was down again, and so forth. I needed the plane to land IMMEDIATELY. We finally landed in Barcelona and people began to disembark. When the first few people from the large group were just about at the door then decided to stop and wait for the rest of the group. That’s great except for the fact that in a one-man aisle you can’t exactly pass people. Finally the flight attendant told them to continue moving outside of the plane. At last I was free!!!! Maybe it was one of those situations where one thing sets you off and therefore any little thing starts to bother you or maybe any normal person would have been equally bothered as I was, I just don’t know.

Once I retrieved my luggage from the conveyor belt I received a text message from my dad saying that they missed their flight and that it would be another hour before they would arrive in the airport. No pasa nada. At last I was reunited with parents and we made our way to the hotel. And it was smooth sailing from there…

After settling into the hotel our first mission was food. We found a typical tapas restaurant and so the sampling of traditional Spanish cuisine began. While both my parents were eager to try tapas they aren’t the best things to eat when you’re starving and in true tapas form each one came out as a bite size. They were good but not filling. After lunch we commenced the touring of Barcelona by doing the most obvious touristic thing possible: riding the big blue double-decker bus complete with matching blue headphones. First major stop was the Sagrada Familia aka Gaudi overload, and that’s being generous. He incorporated numerous architectural styles within one building, all resembling something in nature for that was his inspiration. He was so consumed with the Sagrada Familia that he never got the chance to finish it and so the community of Barcelona have taken over the construction of one half of the façade. The entrance fee every person pays to visit the Gaudi masterpiece goes towards eventually finishing the construction of it. I liked several of Gaudi’s favorite architectural styles, like spirals or the wave, but all of it together is a bit overwhelming for my taste. My dad wasn’t a big fan of Gaudi’s but that’s because he’s a simplest. He prefers Frank Lloyd Wright, but who can blame him, there practically twins :)

After the Sagrada we rode the bus all the way around the red line until we were back in front of our hotel. After the bus we got some gelato and then it was time for a siesta. Since my mother can’t nap I took advantage of our alone time to talk everything and anything on my mind. I relished our alone time because I finally got the chance to talk about things that I’ve been thinking about for a long time, I’m talking for three or more months. I do send emails fairly regularly to both my parents but talking in person is far superior to emails for it allows me to change the topic at a whim or go off on another tangent completely, you know the kinds of things you can only really do in person. Before we knew it three or so hours had passed and it was time to get ready for dinner. I had also planned on going out that night and meeting up with one of the guys I met in Prague so I needed a little more time than usual to get ready.

The receptionist gave us a card with directions to a good Spanish restaurant, not tapas. The map in which I was following was completely wrong so it took us a little more time than expected to find the restaurant but we did find it. I only had to ask for directions once. We had a lovely dinner, everyone trying something different and as usual we were one of maybe four other tables of people, all foreigners who eat at normal eating hours (8-10pm). We didn’t get back to the hotel until around one. I said goodnight to my parents and then headed out to meet up with Pau. I took the metro for the first time all the way to his University. I was a little nervous riding by myself at 2am but as soon as I got on a car I felt safer since there were other young people around. I got to the metro stop and waited for Pau. He didn’t show up for another 15 minutes and I almost didn’t recognize him since he now was sporting a mustache (lol). Instead of going out on the town to a club he brought me to a math party. Haha before you judge you should know that they only have this big party at the end of the year and everyone from all of the departments tries to get into it. You need a nametag equipped with a mathematical number in order to get it. That’s VIP for ya. Pau managed to find a number nametag on the ground and was able to re-stick it to my shirt so I was good to go. After the stampede to get inside it was awesome. We were in this enormous courtyard full of people and lights strung up. At one end they had a huge stage with live music and at the other end a huge tent to buy drinks.

In true Spanish form there were three steps in order to obtain a drink. Step 1: Buy cup for 1 Euro. When you return the cup, you get the Euro back. The cup had a giant backwards E with an exclamation point (only at a math party) on it. Naturally I wanted to keep the cup since it had my initial on it. Step 2: purchase ticket stub at a different tent that is a certain color that then pertains to the drink you prefer. Once you finally get your stub you have to make your way to the other enormous tent/man-made bar where all the booze is held where you engage in Step 3: clawing and elbowing your way to the bar and then screaming bloody murder until someone waits on you and brings you your half full cup of whatever drink you asked for, in my case Sangria. That alone took half an hour.

With my drink in hand it was out to the “dance floor”. I met a bunch of Pau’s friends and listened to the Catalan music. We talked half the time in Spanish; well mine was more like Spanglesh and the other half in English. He speaks really good English so when we got to more advanced topics that was the language of preference. I had a really nice time and I enjoyed hanging out with him. The math party started at 5pm and was supposed to end at 5am. We didn’t make it that long because Pau was tired and I so was I (but I didn’t tell him that). At 4:30am we both managed to hail taxis and part ways. We were going to meet up the next night to go to an actual dance club but that never happened because the soccer game got out to late. When I told Pau that I was going to Istanbul he was so jealous because that’s one of the cities he really wanted to visit. I extended an invitation to him to join me on my adventure but he doesn’t have the money to go at the moment. Que lastima!

The next day (Saturday) nobody got out of bed until 11:00am. That is the latest I have ever seen my parents sleep, particularly my dad. With our late start to the day we quickly ate breakfast and then headed straight for the double-decker buses. This time we were going to take the blue line. It was rather peaceful on top of the bus. We got a wonderful tour of all of Barcelona. We saw the beautiful port, we rode all the way up to Mount Jew (Montejuic) and back down, through the commercial area of Barcelona and then got off at the Barrio Gothic. It was here that my parents suffered their first major tiff of the trip. It was bound to happen; I just tried to mediate it as best as I could. The discovery of a place to eat brought an end to the misunderstanding. The restaurant was another tapas place but this time the portions were a bit bigger. The food was delightful and the atmosphere of the place was gorgeous. It had brick archways down one side of the wall and this elegant black wall on the other. It was really a marvelous place to eat. After lunch we made our way back to the hotel via Las Ramblas, the most famous street in Barcelona.

Las Ramblas is home to various street performers, street vendors, and pickpockets. As I recalled when I was on this street 9 years ago it had more street artists, marionette or puppet people, and as usual people dressed as statues. This time around the place had a section dedicated to flowers and another to animals. They had the cutest little bunny rabbit. I guess as times change so does Las Ramblas. In order to avoid another squabble we suggested dad head back to the hotel while mom and I shopped for postcards. After postcards we hit up the Official FC Barcelona store and then this store I had never heard of called Disigual. I later found out that they have them all over the world (one in NYC and another in LA) but this was the first time I had seen one. I loved the store because the clothes were so colorful and full of patterns and designs. It was unlike anything I’ve ever seen in an American store. If you wore something from that store you were bound to stand out, but in a good way and you also didn’t have to worry about someone wearing else the same shirt, skirt, jacket, or dress.

It was finally time to make our way to the Espanyol Stadium. Too bad we weren’t entirely sure which stadium to go to. We received conflicting information about where to go from people, audio phones, and the Internet. Espanyol’s own website had the wrong stadium on it. In the end we decided to go with the directions that the ticket lady told us. Logical thinking made me deduce that she would know better than anyone else. Sure enough once we got on the metro fans surrounded us from both Espanyol and Barcelona so we knew we were going to the correct stadium. It didn’t take us long to reach the stadium from the metro stop and then again to find our gate to enter. To my surprise our seats were the third row from the corner flag. However barbed wire on one side and Plexiglas on the other two encapsulated us. I felt like I was in a cage. I ended up with some pretty good close ups of the players, mainly Pique, so it wasn’t a total loss. Nobody sat in front of us nor were there smokers in close proximity so that was another plus. Yes we had things obstructing our view at times but it was cool to be that close to the flag and sandwiched between the diehard Espanyol fans and the minuscule Barcelona section. Also I got some decent videos of the fans chanting. The environment throughout the entire game was awesome. The fans chanted the whole time and it was very loud. The game was also very entertaining. I would even go so far to say that the Espanyol fans were more passionate then some of the fans I’ve experienced in England. It wasn’t until the game ended that we got a little upset. Our section for some reason was not allowed to leave when the rest of the stadium departed. I think we waited an extra 45 minutes or so before we were able to leave. We tried to find our metro stop but ended up finding a different stop. It ended up going to the same place but required extra money.

When our metro train approached I did what I always do and found an empty gap close to the edge to assert myself into the car. As I moved to the gap I noticed in the corner of my eye a man following me to the same spot. I know it’s normal to push and gather once the door or the cars get closer but this guy was all up in my grill and unnecessarily so. The doors opened and I squeezed my way through. It wasn’t until I found an empty spot to stand and turned around did I notice my dad coming in a little behind me. As the doors were about to close I noticed the man that was invading my bubble get off the car. It wasn’t until the train started moving that my dad told me two guys tried to pickpocket him and that same guy was one of them. Apparently that man and another buddy sandwiched my dad so that he couldn’t move once people started boarding the car and put their hands in my dad’s pants pockets. Ha ha, little did they know that my dad hides his money and other valuable things in a different place. My dad said he was about to give one of the guys an elbow to the face but refrained because he knew that it would only get him in trouble. After comparing each others recollections of the men we came to the conclusion that I must have been the target at first but since I squeezed in to quick and my dad tried to get on to the car right after me he became the new target. As we were discussing this a man who spoke a little English asked us if we were pick pocketed and when we said yes he offered to report the incident for us. We told him that it wasn’t necessary, that the men had gotten off the train already, and that we were getting off at the next station but he was very insistent. He found the security guard and I guess told him about our incident because we had to get off as the man was talking to the guard. We were impressed that the random guy was so adamant about reporting the crime.

As we got off the metro escalator my dad informed us that once again the man behind him on the escalator tried to pickpocket him. Yes, that’s correct, that would be two pickpocket attempts on my dad in one metro ride. The man literally put his hand in my dad’s pockets while my dad’s hands were still in them. My dad just turned around and glared at him. He said the next person that pulls something like this is going to get an elbow in the face, no holding back anymore. I guess my dad just screams “FOREIGNER” or “PICKPOCKET TARGET”. At dinner we all just laughed it off. We were eating like true Spaniards at 11pm that night. I got a kick out of the menu because the English translations for some of the words weren’t exactly correct. For example, chicken was spelled “chichen” and oven potatoes were spelled “owen potatoes”. It was cute. The best moment at dinner was when the waiter asked if we preferred plain bread or tomato bread and in unison my dad said “tomato bread” and my mom said “plain bread”. That moment couldn’t of summed up my parents any better lol.

We slept in again on Sunday, but not as bad as Saturday. Instead of stopping for breakfast we headed straight to the Picasso Museum. We all really enjoyed seeing Picasso’s work. We were all pleasantly surprised by his pottery work. If they were for sale I’m fairly certain we would have come home with one or maybe even two plates. This is one of the few museums that I’ve visited during my travels that I was really interested in but even that wasn’t enough to keep me awake. I can’t help it but museums make me sleepy. After Picasso it was lunchtime. After a nice lunch with very good bread we grabbed a smoothie and then found the metro and walked to the FC Barcelona stadium, Camp Nou. Unfortunately we were about two hours to late. I guess that was the one thing we didn’t accomplish, a stadium tour of Camp Nou or going to the FC Barcelona Museum. Of well, just another reason to return I guess. One’s loss is another’s gain for now we had more time to explore Parque Guell: home to the renowned Gaudi lizard that I had been taking about from day one. It was the one and only defining feature I could remember from my trip to Barcelona in the 8^th grade besides Las Ramblas.

We walked part way up the steep hill and part way by escalator. Without the assistance of the escalator I don’t think half the people at the park could have made up there. It was quite a hill. The view from the park of the city was spectacular. We especially enjoyed the fact that Las Ramblas was so clearly visible due to the fact that the street was lined with large green trees. I really enjoyed the curved cave and the wavy bench. Both were unmistakably Gaudi as well as the museum and the castle like structure. My mother really enjoyed the music that was playing in the main area. She liked the guitar so much that she bought the group’s CD. All I could think about when I heard the music was the scene from Vicky Christina Barcelona when Vicky and the guy go to listen to the Spanish guitar and Vicky is so moved by the music that she cries. It’s so Barcelona. After spending a great deal of time at the park we ventured by way of metro over to the Magic Fountain for dinner and then for the show at the fountain. It took us a very long time to find a place to eat but once we settled on a place we were very happy with our choice. After our meal we could hear the sounds of a futbol game being played in the other room so we went over to watch ourselves. I chatted with one of the waiters about our mutual preference for Madrid over Barcelona in the city where it is forbidden to speak about the Madradistas. They were really nice and we tipped them for their kind service. When we got to the fountain we realized that the show was only from May – October. All that for nothing. At best it gave us an excuse to revisit another part of Barcelona that we hadn’t had time to see when we were on the bus.

The next morning was our last morning in Barcelona. Mother and I took that time to shop at stores that we had passed the day before but didn’t have a chance to go into. With my assistance my mother was able to purchase gifts for just about everyone on her list, which let me tell you was no easy task. In one store my mother analyzed every piece of pottery they had, which took a good 15-20 minutes, only to come out of the store with a thimble. Let’s just say it was a good thing my father wasn’t with us. I also came away with a skirt so it was a good morning.

At noon it was time to say our goodbyes to Barcelona and head to the airport. On the way to the airport our taxi driver was distracted by his conversation with a fellow taxi driver that he lightly hit the car in front of us. The car honked and the man yelled and our taxi driver just replied with “no pasa nada!” That’s how it works; nobody gets out of their cars and threatens to sue each other. They say no big deal and go on with life. No es importa. And that’s how we left Barcelona.

We were all in agreement that the city was fabulous and had this special sparkle to it that you don’t find everywhere you go. I don’t know what it would be like teaching English in Barcelona but I could see myself spending more time there. I feel like there is so much more to experience. I welcome the chance to visit it in the future. Possible destination wedding???!?! (just kidding)

Oyia, it's FERIA!!!

Feria in Seville, there is nothing like it. Honestly I can't think of anything in America that comes close to Feria. The entire city comes together and networks for an entire week. Nobody works. Instead they relax in their private casetas (tents) and drink, dance, and talk with friends and family. Every woman, girl, child, and baby had on a matching dress, shoes, shaw, earrings, and flower or comb in their hair. The colors of the dresses were rich and stunning. When you break it down, it was basically a big state fair but when you experience it for yourself it is something much more authentic.

Here are the few photos i took of my brief Feria experience as well as another night at La Carboneria for some bangin flamenco. Enjoy.

Feria

I know I promised an update but it's so hard staying indoors and writing a blog entry for three hours when I could be outside reading, walking, running, or eating my meals on my step. I've missed the sun for three months so now i don't want to waste a minute of it. Everyone has noticed my change in skin color hehe. Give me another half week and I'll stubbornly sit down and write about Barcelona and Feria. Madre mia! :)