Amanda in Barcelona - achavero

Hello, stranger.

achavero — Thu, 06 Mar 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Eek, its been a while. Well, contrary to what I initially said, I am cutting out of BCN on March 23rd. Easter, if you prefer. I wish I had a long, intricate story full of dramatic twists and turns, but really, I just need to graduate on time. I want a double major, in Anthropology/Sociology (at Knox, this is treated as one major) and Spanish. Because of the way certain requirements are scheduled, if I don't come back this spring I'll have to pick one major and one minor, which I just don't want to do. Damn my ambition, eh?

In pure honesty, I'm not really sad about this. You'd expect me to be sad, right? Well, no. Maybe I'm just being a good little "trooper," but this realization wasn't a sad one. But since I can't see anyone describing me as a "good little trooper," and you probably know that, I should explain this point. :)

Some of you already know that I've had a really hard time here. Depression, illness, unhappiness, what have you. I took it pretty well, or as well as I could. I mean, I'm in Barcelona -- I'm not going to spend all of my time feeling sorry for myself! So as I leave, I'm glad to be going because I feel like I'm finally getting away from all the (for lack of a better word) crap that plagued me but I don't want anyone to think that I hate this place. No. I think Barcelona is a fantastic city. You should visit it, if you haven't already. And if you have, you should visit it again because I promise you its changed! It's a city I could never live in, but its definitely a place I'd like to come back and visit (like, when the Sagrada Familia is finished?)

So, I made the decision to come back in the beginning of February, and just in time too, as that was when classes were being chosen for spring term. Maybe you'll find this interesting, or maybe you won't, but the hardest part about getting everything sorted out to come home was convincing people that I was doing it for a reason others deemed "acceptable." I have been in the "all my byself" camp since I first became vocal, so you can imagine how much I appreciated being clotheslined by that nasty little surprise. The decision was hard enough, I don't need everyone else passing judgement on it and I'm not going to change my mind just because you said so... sigh... suffice it to say that I can talk for a long time about the expectations -- both acknowledged and assumed -- that are associated with studying abroad. (And I don't suggest you do this unless you really, really want to know.) Unfortunately, I have to admit that I would have rather experienced the nuances of being a study abroad student in a different way, but what can you do? Experience is experience, and I'm just hoping that I'm better off for it.

Being criticized for wanting to come home early made me wary of yelling my news from the rooftops, so to speak, so please don't be offended if I didn't tell you I was coming back. Very few people knew, and I would have kept it that way, but people talk and well, as one person told me, "the cat is out of the bag." Sums it up rather well, I think.

So, here I am, still in Barcelona. Its been cold here these last couple of days, but given that I was on the beach on Saturday and my family is probably still slogging through icy, grey slush, I'm not to the point of complaining. I have my final exams next week, (if you've read about my experience with last term's finals, you should know that these are looking much more daunting) on March 12th and 13th. I have until the 16th to get my fill of Barcelona, the people in it, and to purge my belongings of stuff I can't fit in my luggage because on the morning of the 17th, I fly to Paris! :) I have 5 days in the City of Lights and the sneaking suspicion that my experience there will give me reason to call it the City of Croissants. (I'm very excited about the prospect of unchecked overindulgence in French baked goods.) But don't worry, I'll do all the other touristy things that are basically required of a trip to Paris. I will crawl into BCN again on the 21st, very late at night and probably exhausted. But I'll only be able to sleep until noon (no later!) because I have three extremely important tasks:
1. unpack from Paris and re-pack for home
2. finish last-minute errands (gifts, things I wanted to take pictures of, etc)
3. say goodbye!

After all of that, I have to be ready to leave at 6am for the airport. I'll fly from BCN to Zurich, and then onto Chicago. Counting from the time I leave my apartment in BCN to the time I will probably arrive at home, I will have been traveling for 22 hours. Here's hoping I manage to sleep on the plane!

listening to... Spanish Bombs - The Clash

achavero — Fri, 18 Jan 2008 00:00:00 GMT

I've been back for about two weeks now, and my life is starting to get back on track. I no longer live out of a suitcase, which officially happened from December 1, 2007 - January 7, 2008. I never want to do that again, actually. And from the looks of things, my suitcase couldn't do that again, even if it wanted to. But now I've got clothes that don't smell like hotels and I have places to put all my things, and they can stay there instead of setting things on whatever flat surface I have handy only to pack them up again.
Another improvement is that I have classes that challenge me Not to say that last term was a total wash, but it was considerably... less challenging... than previous experiences... man, I'm trying to be diplomatic about this but it's not really working. Basically, last term I had too little work and too much free time so that just panned out to mean that I had way to much time in which to work myself up into a neurotic mess. Which I did rather too successfully, I must say.

So I'm finally coming out that, aided by a whole new set of things to distract me and worry about. My classes look like they'll be amazing this term, for one thing. Here's what I'm taking (and why!):
1. Syntax and Composition 2: so maybe I'll learn how to use the evil subjunctive tense.
2. Don Quixote: its a literature class taught by my Contemporary Spain professor from last term, Professor Reyes. I haven't actually cracked the spine on my copy yet, but its high up on the to-do list. I'm pretty excited about this class but that's mostly just because the professor is. On the first day, he used an imaginary sword to lop off the heads of a 28-headed dragon to make a point. Point made. And how! :)
3. History of Spain 2: I don't need this class, but I adore the professor. I learned a lot from him, and I've always liked history. I've been lucky to have some really great history teachers -- in both high school and in college. Besides, his class gives me a context in which to place Spanish culture.
4. 20th Century Latin American Literature: This is the hardest class I'm taking, by far, because it is a) one of the key requirements for my as-yet-undeclared Spanish major and b) taught by Professor Tim Foster, the director of the Barcelona Program (the one I'm participating in). Tim is a really cool guy, but he isn't totally gung-ho about teaching this class and has thus made it almost as inconvenient and difficult as possible. Class is at 8:30 am on Mondays and 1 pm on Thursdays, and for the first day of class (which was yesterday) we had to have already read the first book and written a 3-5 page essay that analyzed some formal aspect of the story (ie, symbolism). Guh. But you know what, I sucked it up and did it because I really want to get this class out of the way.

So, as of right now, I have homework in three of those four classes. Grammar worksheets from Syntax, and 50 pages or so from both Don Quixote and Tim's lit class. It's good for me, I tell myself. At the very least, all my free time from last term is now filled with purpose -- I'm either purposefully doing my work or I'm purposely avoiding it.

What else... I am joining a gym as soon as my running shoes get here. :) When I was packing to come back to BCN, I had to decide between my running shoes and chocolate. It was an agonizing moment, but I went with the chocolate and Mom graciously agreed to ship my shoes to me (with more chocolate - heh). I figured I could get one last go at being a lazy, chocolate-binging bum and then by the time my running shoes turned up I would be ready to start working out again. As it turns out, I know myself pretty well. I've researched gyms in Barcelona, and I found a really nice one just 2.5 blocks away from my apartment.

Another new development since I've returned is my decision to commit to finding a job. I'm not legally allowed to work since I'm here on a student visa, but I can do things like babysit or "teach english," which is really just babysitting with more of a purpose. I have just barely enough saved up to get by not working, but I'd have to adhere to a bare-bones kind of budget, which just... sucks. It's what I've been doing, and I feel like there's a lot in Barcelona that I'm not doing because I dont want to pay that much money. This fact directly offends my philosophy that I don't need to spend a lot of money to have fun, but... it has proven itself to be valid. True, I don't have to spend a ton of money to have fun, but there are things I want to do here that involve spending more money than I can afford to. So... I get a job. Problem solved. :)

Alright, I guess that's it. Fortunately, I can get free wireless access from my apartment, so that's how I've been able to write this. It's made my life a lot more convenient. Now, I'm going to eat some lunch and then resort to my new favorite way to procrastinate: watching the Venture Brothers episodes. It's pure genius. Think like, Johnny Quest gone all wrong and thus, hilarity ensues.

And then maybe after that I'll do something about that undeclared double major.

it had to happen sometime

achavero — Fri, 11 Jan 2008 00:00:00 GMT

I'm sick! With what, who knows. I've got all kinds of complaints -- sore throat, swollen lymph nodes, chills, fever, etc etc etc. The good news is that I just got back from the doctor's office, armed with three prescriptions and two refills on my inhalers. The office visit and chest xray took me less than an hour (I didn't even go in with an appointment) and it only cost 120 US dollars.

Why doesn't the United States have nationalized health care???

Amanda shows up in Barcelona, take two.

achavero — Wed, 09 Jan 2008 00:00:00 GMT

Well, it´s been three days since I´ve arrived even though I´ve only been concious for two of them. My latest method of dealing with jetlag/extreme exhaustion was to go to bed at 1030 on Monday morning (intending to take a short nap before lunch) but the next thing I knew, it was 9 am on Tuesday. Oops. So, the jetlag is pretty much taken care of.

Where was I if I wasn´t in Barcelona, then? In the United States. I went home for Christmas. Most of you already know this. It was a great time -- Christmas with the family was fantastic, the food was comforting, my friends were happy to see me, and the wastefulness of American society was disturbing. So everything was exactly as I expected it to be. :)

Today was the first day of classes, but I didn´t have any. Not today. I ran a few errands and caught up with people I haven´t seen in a really long time instead. Now, I´m just gearing myself up to buy a metro card and go home. I´m exhausted. The price of the metro went up, much to my dismay. I just filled out an application to be a babysitter... we´ll see how this turns out. Best case scenario, it will help my financial situation, which is truly dismal at this point.

Crap.

el Gran Viaje, part 2

achavero — Thu, 13 Dec 2007 00:00:00 GMT

Ah, day 13 of 15. Wow. It's been rough. "Death march" is an amazingly appropriate term for these guided city tours. Aside from that, I'm out of clean socks, my favorite sweatshirt is starting to look the part, I reek of that stale, hotel smell, and I've discovered a few new pet peeves. But things are going great!

No, really. I've done some really cool things and I am going to be doing some laundry after this, so all's well. Let's see, what happened after Sevilla... Cordoba, Toledo, and a few random stops for lunch: Merida and Caceres. Checked out the Mezquita... I refer to it as the Muslim Vatican. Other than that, I really don't have a lot to say. I mean, I've done a lot, I just don't know how to talk about it. I guess the other major things I've done included a 3.5 hour session of forcing fine art upon myself in the Prado Museum and thanks to those three hour death marches, I've walked the halls of the Royal Palace in Madrid, numerous other cathedrals, a couple of synagogues and El Escorial, where I hung out in the crypt that holds most of the Spanish royal family.

Honestly, I'm done. I've been done. But now I'm really, really done. Tomorrow, we are trooping out to Segovia to see the Roman aqueduct, then on Saturday, we have an 8 hour bus ride to Barcelona. Thankfully, we will be stopping in Zaragoza to eat lunch and "stretch our legs," which is code for "walk around yet another cathedral." We should be rolling into Barcelona around 9 pm, give or take an hour. THEN, I get to unpack my suitcase, eat, shower, repack my suitcase, catch a few hours of sleep and then leave in the wee hours for the airport to travel back in time.

The plan is to go from Barcelona to Atlanta, then from ATL to Chicago. Where does the time travel come in? Well, I leave BCN at 10:40 am, and should be in ATL by 3 pm-ish even though I'm definitely going to be stuck on that plane for 10 hours. Since the extent of my math whiz abilities stops at balancing my checkbook and splitting the bill at lunch, I'm not going to think about it too much and just take Delta Airlines at their word. If everything goes as planned, I should be in Chicago by 8 pm on Saturday. However, I keep hearing about ice storms happening in Chicago and at home, so I'm really pulling for some good luck to get me to the States again, in one piece and on time.

El Gran Viaje, part 1

achavero — Thu, 06 Dec 2007 00:00:00 GMT

Well, I know I’ve been talking about it an awful lot, but el gran viaje has finally (!) begun. I’m writing this on day 6 of 15, lounging on the floor of Polly and Krystal’s hotel room while Krystal and Zac are napping on the beds and Polly is catching up on email-replying. This update is courtesy of Zac, who kindly let me swipe his ibook computer and internet access to write this. (Thanks, Zac.)

The last six days have certainly been a whirlwind... I’ve been in at least one new city every day. Today I am in Sevilla. I’ve also been spotted in Valencia, Guadix, Peniscola, Ronda, Granada, Arcos de la Frontera, Jerez de la Frontera. I feel like a Where’s Waldo character. Wait, no, more like Carmen Sandiego. You know... “Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego?” Yeah... a continent-hopping woman of mystery and intrigue, dressed in red, and with an inappropriately sultry voice for a children’s show... well... maybe I’m not cut out to be Carmen either, but at least she’s better dressed than Waldo.

And, just as I suspected, I’m quickly tiring of this trip. I am just tourist-ed out. Really. The “walking tours” of the various sights are starting to feel more like death marches. I can’t even tell you how many palaces, cathedrals, parks, government buildings, curiosities and other oddities I’ve seen. I am just disillusioned. Jaded. And I’m not alone. Yes, this is a GREAT opportunity, I know. I know. Don’t tell me. Because if you tell me, I’m going to lecture you on the differences between 14th, 15th and 16th century cupolas in cathedrals. Trust me, you don’t want that.

Tying up loose ends...

achavero — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 00:00:00 GMT

1. First, "finals week" here is really something more like "finals day." I had three exams on Wednesday. Were they difficult? Well, I emerged from them all with my sanity intact (the same cannot be said about finals at Knox). So that was okay. Yes, they were all in Spanish. So that... that passed. I "celebrated" by going to the bar across the street and getting a beer with three other girls from this program before going home for dinner. It was really very tranquil. Nothing at all like Knox -- where you spend 3 to 6 days addressing only the most basic needs of survival (except sleep) and furiously writing papers while everything else in your life is put on hold. Then, once you are liberated from the mental and emotional stranglehold that is finals, you spend half the day in a dazed stupor and that night in an aggressive (and for many, a drunken) attempt to make up for all that fun you are sure you missed out on over the last few days. At some point in time, there is a massive sigh of relief and while I can´t speak for everyone, I always feel a little better about myself in that look-at-what-I-just-survived kind of way. Here, I missed that sense of accomplishment, even though I realize that as I admit that I sound like a sucker for punishment. I just... I don´t know. I didn´t know what to expect, so I´m not disappointed. I just didn´t feel closure. It was like this whole finals thing was an afterthought... maybe a consequence of the differences between American and Spanish education systems?
2. As I write this, the countdown to the beginning of the grand adventure around Spain starts in about 19 hours. Where is this wandering two weeks going to take me? Here:

Barcelona – Peñíscola – Valencia – Guadix – Granada – Ronda –Arcos de la Frontera - Jerez de la Frontera – Sevilla – Córdoba – Cáceres – Toledo – Madrid – Segovia – Zaragoza – Barcelona

Fun fact? We change hotels 9 (NINE!) times in 14 days.

I´m going to be so sick of everyone on this trip. I´m not even being mean about it. Its just... group dynamics. This trip is organized by the Knox Program as a part of the study abroad experience. Yes, that is amazingly cool. While I´m both excited about this trip and happy about the group of people that I´m traveling with, I can´t lie about the trepidation I have over spending countless hours on a bus with these same people... or eating meal after meal with all of them... or being herded around the city from one photo op to the next. I just can´t get excited about that. Sorry. But it will be worth it. I know it will. I just have to keep reminding myself of that.

3. Today is me doing all the little things I needed to do a week ago but didn´t get around to it. This blog post, returning books to the library, cleaning off pictures on my camera, replying to emails, etc. Then I need to pack, clean my room and go to bed early because my tomorrow starts at 5:30AM.

I feel like I should apologize for not being very perky lately. Since my hair has reached "long-ish" status, I feel like I´ve been a more serious person. No minimal-effort, messy ponytails for Amanda, oh no. European women wear their hair down and are to be taken seriously so of course, I do the same.
And when I´m on the bus, I have the tendency to zone out. I picked this up from fellow bus-riders, and rather quickly at that. While there are advantages to this habit, it also means that I catch myself frowning. Not a very happy, perky thing to do. Then I look around me and see all the old women wearing the same expression and I smile in an attempt to counteract the wrinkles I´m getting a head start on, if their own countless wrinkles are statements to the same fact. What are the advantages, then? First, there is no better way to get over the simple fact that you are hemmed in by too many people. Secondly, and more importantly, by zoning out you can be unconcious of the fact that the bus driver has narrowly avoided at least a dozen accidents in the 20 minutes you´ve been a passenger. I paid attention to how the drivers navigate the streets only twice and both times I exited the moving box of near-death experiences I could feel my heart beating in my throat.
All that aside, I´m not really in a bad mood... I´m just... not happy. I guess I´m not unhappy either, though. I don´t really know for sure. I just don´t feel like I have anything to get really excited about. I say I´m all about this upcoming trip, but even as I say that and really feel it, I can´t summon up a convincing smile to go along with it. I´m just... serious. And I don´t really like it.

What is life without fútbol?

achavero — Sun, 25 Nov 2007 00:00:00 GMT

What is known:
- Soccer (fútbol) is THE sport of Europe, and thus, Spain.
- The Barca fútbol team is the darling of Barcelona sports.
- Not everyone has to actually love the soccer team. You just really shouldn´t openly dislike them.
What I thought I knew:
- That my host family isn´t really into sports.
What I know now:
- That my host family´s silverware is engraved with the Barca logo.

Hot pink nail polish doesn´t fix anything

achavero — Fri, 23 Nov 2007 00:00:00 GMT

On a whim, I painted my nails hot pink. Like, Barbie pink. I´m really entertained by it, partly because of the color and partly because I would never describe myself as a hot-pink-kind-of-girl. I only meant to keep the color for a day or two, but it´s nearly been a week and I can still look down at the keyboard and see little flashes of pink as I type this. It hasn´t fixed a single thing in my life, but it´s fun to break the mold I make for myself. I´ve admittedly been stuck in this sort of "emo" monotony lately, and keeping a positive attitude about anything has been difficult. I´m tired, stressed, impulsive, broke and I miss my mom. I will be home in a month, so now is the final crunch to get everything done and it makes my mood all the worse for it. As a result, hot pink nail polish has unintentionally become the symbol of everything I´m not feeling right now.

The weather is no longer "sunny and 60," by the way. More like grey, humid and 40. It wants to rain but its too lazy. My brain feels dilated... thoughts take longer to develop. I don´t want to do anything except bum around in sweatpants and eat chocolate. Unfortunately, that is not an option because I have final exams next Monday-Thursday, then I have to pack for "el gran viaje" on Friday, and on Saturday morning, the two week trip around southern Spain commences. So hot pink nails haven´t made the weather better, but they have been serving as a reminder that I won´t have these neutral, uninteresting days for much longer. It also makes for a great contrast in my wardrobe. I´ve been wearing a lot of black and brown and grey lately... you have to understand though, it´s very "euro".
I would say that my euro-makeover must be nearly complete. I´ve learned the trick: ignore the idea that black clothes and brown accessories don´t really "go" together and just see any neutral, dark color as a base from which you accessorize with whatever obnoxiously bright thing you can get your hands on. And wear layers. And look haughty and disinterested (thus, chic) about it.

Funny europeans.

And hot pink nails haven´t made the papers easier to write, it hasn´t improved the dollar-euro exchange rate, and my use of the subjunctive tense of Spanish verbs is still nonexistent, but its a happy color, and for the moments that I take to notice how ridiculously bright and cheery they are amidst all the grey and grime of the city, I´m entertained.

Writer´s block, procrastination, a second language and other obstacles in the way of me finishing this paper.

achavero — Sat, 17 Nov 2007 00:00:00 GMT

I´ve been in the computer lab for almost two hours and I only have 3/4ths of a page to show for it. On the plus side, that page is written in Spanish, but on the downside, I have 4 more pages to go. What is it about? I am (attempting to) write a comparative paper that examines the representation of Spain after the Civil War ended and Francisco Franco emerged as victor and new dictator. Sure, that may sound really great and I can even find it moderately interesting but it´s not going very well. I just can´t get going on it. I only need 5 pages... at Knox, I would be expected to crank this out in a night and trust me, I have. But this is the first paper I´ve had to write for a class since... May! I´m a little more than a little rusty.

However, I´ll be liberated after 4:30 because I´m going to go to the Bodies Exhibit at one of the many museums in BCN. It´s a pretty pricey exhibit -- 15 euros for students (roughly 25 dollars), but my host mother got free tickets to it and she gave them to me because she was too creeped out by the idea of seeing dissected bodies on display.
____________________________________________________________________________

Okay, so I wrote that yesterday, but never posted it. Tricky, I know. I thought about trashing it, but keeping it saves me time by not having to (re)write an explanation.

So, I didn´t get anything else done with the paper. I decided two pages in three hours was sufficient for a first effort. What took the longest was translating it into Spanish! I just saved what I had, ate lunch and then walked down Las Ramblas to the Drassanes Reials Museum for the exhibition. It was... interesting. I was afraid that maybe I wouldn´t be able to handle it, seeing bodies that at one point walked and talked, etc., etc. but it wasn´t an issue. They start you out slow, with some bones. Smart thinking. Everyone has seen a bone, most of us have broken one or two. So that was okay. Then they show you an entire skeleton, then a skeleton and the tendons, a skeleton with the tendons and the major muscle groups, and so on until you get to the one female in the entire exhibition and she has pretty much every part of her intact, sans skin, of course. Wow, talking about this is really strange. I guess its just one of those things you have to see for yourself. I don´t know who sponsored the exhibit, but they definitely have an agenda. There is a section about the digestive and respiratory systems and they show you a diseased organ next to a healthy one and talk about how not smoking and avoiding fatty foods will save your life. Yes, I believe those things to be true but I didn´t come to this exhibit to be scared into living a healthier life. To each their own, I suppose. And I´m sure that there are many people who need just that sort of experience to change their lives around. It´s probably better to see how it happened to someone else than to actually have to experience it yourself, so I´ll give them credit for trying to educate the masses.

And today? I slept in, made my way over to the library. I have to leave soon though, as its only open from 11 to 2 on Saturday. Yes, I think that that is ridiculous. And yes, I´ve started excusing things I find to be absurdly inconvenient by saying, "Well, it IS Spain, after all." I´ve also noticed that I finally understand the Spanish sense of time. Everything in Barcelona takes 20 minutes to get to, no matter how far away it seems. The trick is how you are getting there -- walking, metro, bus, etc -- and how quickly you are willing to move. These Spaniards... they´re crafty.

Amanda tries city running.

achavero — Tue, 13 Nov 2007 00:00:00 GMT

Disgusted with my inability to go for that run I never seemed to have the time for, I found some resolve in the deepest, darkest recess of my mind and laid out my running clothes and shoes last night. I did this with the hope that the sight of them would inspire me to leave my warm, cozy bed for the grey and chilly morning in search of a lean stomach and toned thighs.
Somehow, it worked.
I set the alarm for 7:30, but I was awake before 7. By 7:45 I was warming up by doing a few flights of stairs. I live on the fourth floor, of eight, so I ran up to the roof, stretched, and then ran down to street level. Taking the elevator while dressed in running shorts, an old high school track sweatshirt and running shoes felt wrong.
The street was busier than I expected it to be. Not very many stores were open, just the bakery and produce crowd, but I´m guessing that the traffic I saw were the people who open the various shops and cafes that line the streets of Grácia. There were even a few ancianas, old women, who had a set to their faces that told you they put a lot of stock in the axiom that the early bird gets the worm. Even the way they bustled down the streets told you they meant business. I picked my way around the corner to the beginning of Passeig de Sant Joan.
Yesterday, in a desperate attempt to get out of the really "emo" mindset I was in, I compared my best options for running routes. My best choices were to run down Passeig Sant Joan, in the general direction of the ocean, or up Calle Escorial, towards the mountain. Sant Joan is actually a boulevard, with a wide center strip that has playgrounds on one side, benches on the other, a bike path behind the benches and a random assortment of fountains, trees, and other elements of a park inserted here and there. The only negative point to this route is that the way out is downhill, making the way back a bit more difficult. But it´s a wider area and is thus easier to move around in. Escorial is uphill on the way out and downhill on the way back, but it´s just a street so there are more obstacles and opportunities to tempt fate into doing something unpleasant. It´s the direction I would need to take if I wanted to go to Parc Güell, which is also a popular running site, but just getting there would be a workout in itself. It´s a 30 minute walk from my house, and uphill. Please. Perhaps on a day when I´m feeling really ambitious, but I was already impressed enough by the fact that I got out of bed before my alarm went off. So, that´s how I decided on Passeig de Sant Joan.
It only ended up being a brisk run. Thirty minutes. But it was enough. Enough to make me break a sweat and have my quads twinge and twitch, unaccustomed as they are to this sort of physical demand. Enough to make my shins ache -- hinting strongly at shin splints -- from running on the concrete. Enough to be happy with a first effort.
I walked into the apartment breathing heavily, cheeks flushed. Someone was in the bathroom, and since my shower is currently in the PROCESS of being repaired (it´s not draining properly, and note the emphasis on "process"), I got even more ambitious and did sit ups and lunges while I waited for the shower to open up. (I´m definitely going to pay for that tomorrow, and probably the day after, but it was worth it.)
All morning, I´ve felt like a million bucks, but I´m probably not going to do this again. Why? I knew the air quality of Barceona was awful, but running in it is an entirely different story. It felt like I was trying to breathe through a straw. And I was only pacing a quick jog... it certainly wasn´t a flat-out run, but I wasn´t slacking either. Also, running in the city actually causes more stress than the act releases. Dodging people, waiting for lights to change, being leered at by greasy, 20-something punks. (Assholes.) Anyway, its just more stress than I think its worth. Feeling toned is not preferable to breathing.

I guess I´ll just have to start eating less chocolate.

current mood: feeling happy and content, probably with smudges of chocolate still on my face

achavero — Fri, 09 Nov 2007 00:00:00 GMT

I just got back from a chocolate festival. All I have to say is, Wow, I just got back from a CHOCOLATE festival. A chocolate FESTIVAL. Festival of... yeah. Chocolate. What a glorious idea!
I have a slight buzz going on... my thoughts are sort of fuzzy and my stomach is almost unpleasantly full. Almost. I´d say the buzz is from the caffeine, but I would be totally down for a nap right now so that doesn´t make a lot of sense. I feel... saturated... with chocolate. So much so that I´m having trouble thinking linearly. I can´t figure out a good way to start telling you this story. You see, there are three main elements here: before the chocolate, the chocolate and the aftermath. While some part of me says to start at the beginning, the rest of me wants to just talk about the chocolate. Sigh... well, this is my blog so I´m going to do what I want. You get: the chocolate. The other stuff might come later.

Well, let me set the scene for you. This week, an enormous white tent was constructed directly behind the Arc du Triomf. As I walked under the obnoxiously large and useless arch, I felt bad about the tent´s presence because you can´t take a picture of the Arc without getting at least a corner of the tent in the shot. In hindsight, I suppose it isn´t that big of a deal. I once took pictures of the Arc, but I deleted most (if not all?) of them. What a pointless thing to have, I said to myself... delete. Anyway, inside this rather too-large tent there are nearly 60 booths set up for vendors, two stages and a bar in the back. Over the course of today and tomorrow, various events are scheduled to be held on these stages. While I was there, I saw a bit of a magic show on one and a cooking demonstration on the other. Just as I walked in, a showing of Chocolat was ending. I was there with Rachel and Ayla, two of the girls in the Knox Program, and a few of their friends who arrived in Barcelona yesterday to visit. We walked in, took stock of the situation, and jumped right in. It only took a couple of visits to the first booths to realize that over half of the booths had free samples. This made everyone a little giddy, and initially we were rather like little kids on christmas, darting here and there, furtively (or so we thought) reaching for a second taste before hunting out the next target. It was a lot of fun. Well, one lap was completed, and then another, and then we all bought chocolate and sampled each other´s purchases. I fell in love with the white chocolate and raspberry bombons.
It cost 8 euros to get in, but two euros are kicked back to you to spend inside and half of the cost of my ticket will eventually be reimbursed by the Knox Program, given that I write a paragraph (in Spanish) about why this was a culturally enriching event. I´m sure I can think of something. :)

Cravings and indecision.

achavero — Mon, 05 Nov 2007 00:00:00 GMT

I need chocolate. I´ve been thinking about it since yesterday. The grocery store isn´t open on Sundays, which, when I´m in this mood, looks an awful lot like a sin. I´m desperately trying to hold off from buying a Twix out of the vending machine downstairs, but it won´t happen. I can already tell. I have one more class before the end of the day, from 6 - 7:30, so I don´t get home until 8-ish. It´s definitely only 5:00 right now.

Maybe I should go get gelato. I haven´t had gelato since I got back from Italy. I´ve been afraid to find that it isn´t quite as good as Rome´s.

I don´t understand why I need this chocolate so badly. I´m not hungry. But right now, it´s either going to be chocolate or tylenol. Am I really having a chocolate withdrawal? Because my head hurts. Right now, I actually feel like there isn´t enough chocolate in the world; at least not enough at my disposal. I think its the weather: cool, damp feeling and cloudy. But mostly just... grey.

I´ve started reading La Colmena. In Spanish. It´s really slow going. I can read it... I only have to look up one or maybe two words per page... but I read sooooo slooooowly. i feel like i´m in second grade again. Just one step above having to say every syllable out loud. Super annoying. I know it gets better with time and I just have to keep practicing, but that doesn´t make the resulting headache go away. Thus, I need chocolate. I even just left and bought a kitkat out of the vending machine, but i´m still feeling pretty murderous.

Yeah... that´s a pretty good way to describe my mood right now... I´m feeling pretty murderous. I really just want to get a big, 150g Lindt chocolate bar and shred the wrapper to pieces until I can sit peacefully, my mouth full of gloriously melty chocolate and wait until all the stress and dreary, grey thoughts just go away. And then, I´ll break off another piece, careful not to hold it too long (it melts, you know), and when I pop that into my mouth, things will be right with the world.

Sometimes, I don´t think my "addiction" to chocolate is very healthy. However, I tell myself, at least its not cocaine (or any other horrific drug), its marginally healthy (it might not do anything good for me, but at least it doesn´t cause cancer), and its cheap. When I start getting too big for my britches, chocolate and I will have a showdown. Until then, I´m content to enjoy it.

All in all, today hasn´t been a bad day. Well, it hasn´t been a great one, but I´m not complaining. Pretty run of the mill. Woke up, got out of the house on time, listened to my mp3 player on the bus, and ate my breakfast (two small muffins that I tossed into my bag on the way out) while I waited for my first class to start. The professor was 15 minutes late (by unspoken agreement, if the professor is more than 20 minutes late, we walk out). I like him though, so I would probably give him 25. We finished the movie we started last week (La Lengua de las Mariposas, great film), and silently commiserated while we listened to "Tomcat" ask redundant questions about the rise of Franco for the remaining half hour. "Oh, Tomcat," we all say. He´s a nice kid, but he asks a lot of questions. A lot of the same questions. But no matter. And "Tomcat" is what the group collectively nicknamed him. Think about it.

The second class passed easily enough -- it was the grammar class. But today we all took turns talking about what we did this weekend. Since I did nothing terrifically interesting, I spoke the least. It was more fun listening to stories about the trips to Paris and San Sebastian, anyway. A ham sandwich and an apple later, I popped into the computer lab. I´ve been here for about an hour. At 6, I have the history class. At 8-ish, I´ll be in the grocery store under my apartment. At around nine, Pepita will serve dinner and will probably comment on how much I eat. She always says it with a smile, and only recently, but I don´t know how to take her comments. The Spanish, and especially the women, have this way of criticizing or otherwise making comments by using sarcastic or playful tones. It´s hard to know if they are being serious. Well, it´s hard for me. She´s been nothing but fantastic this entire time, though, so I don´t think she´s being mean or critical. Anyway, lately she has made comments about how much I eat, or that I have quite the appetite. This weekend she asked me if I haven´t gained any weight since I´ve been here. I said no, and she smiled, replying, "Well, I guess I didn´t either when I was your age." But... its strange. I guess I don´t really know if I´ve gained weight, but my clothes still fit. If I have, it hasn´t been much. I don´t know if I should say something. I don´t know if I should eat less. I don´t know if I should give into the insecurity that starts to rise when she says something about it.

Sigh... whatever the case, I still need chocolate. Yes, I NEED chocolate. There is no indecision about that. And tomorrow, I´ll go for my first run in Spain. Yeah, I still haven´t done that. But I guess being in a new country isn´t enough of a reason to slack off ;)

All settled in?

achavero — Sat, 03 Nov 2007 00:00:00 GMT

It´s been a few days, I know. I thought I would wait until I had something really stirring to rave about, but nothing outrageous enough happened. I think it´s because I´ve finally landed -- I´ve finally settled in. I see familiar faces on the morning bus. Occasionally, I see my history professor on the metro (he lives just down the block from me). Now, the cashiers at the grocery store under my apartment just smile when they see me walk up with my handful of chocolate. Its the only thing I´ve ever bought there. The staff at the public library show some recognition on their faces when I walk into their line of vision, and they seem ready for my quiet, halting attempts at Spanish. Dare I say Barcelona has accepted my presence?
I´ve noticed that at least looking the part helps. Sometimes, I´m not sure I recognize myself, but I like the changes. I invested in two scarfs, a light sweater and a pair of skinny jeans. I´m pretty sure my mom will think I´ve changed a lot.
Oh, I read a book yesterday. The Shadow of the Wind, by Carlos Ruiz Zafón. It is the latest "best book I´ve ever read". The setting is in Barcelona, after the Spanish Civil War. It is really intense -- full of love, hate, betrayal, suspense, murder... it was 547 pages of raised eyebrows, shallow breaths and sheer wonder and admiration for the author´s power of description. Yes, I cried. Three times. And it showed me a side of Barcelona that I never thought about. My metro stop is where the main character, Daniel, got off the bus when he went home. And I have post-it notes full of places I need to search out. (Yes, the book is riddled with little purple and orange post-it notes, marking passages or ideas. And yes, the purples stand for one thing and the oranges, another.) I´m going to try to incorporate it into my final paper for one of my classes. Right now, my topic is censorship during the Franco regime, and I´m going to (try to) read La Colmena and use it as an example, since it was a banned book for some time. I think I can use Zafón in the paper too... but it only has to be 5 pages, so we´ll see how far I get.
For clarification, finals aren´t for another four weeks, but I´ve got little else to do, so I thought I might as well get started. There are a lot of things that Spaniards don´t really "do" here, from Halloween to cookies to daily homework assignments. I only really miss the cookies.

Random.

achavero — Tue, 23 Oct 2007 00:00:00 GMT

I don´t have any stories to tell, but I do have a bit of time on my hands. (Apparently, my art history class was cancelled.) I´ve realized that this blog makes me look like I´m an emotional wreck... okay, maybe I am, but I feel like I need to address that. Can I just say that I think deciding to spend a year in a new country is the most absurd decision in the world? I know that this is a great experience and I fully appreciate it, but seriously, this is crazy. Its the craziest thing I´ve ever done and hopefully will ever do because in the end, I´m a homebody.

I think its funny that I had to go to Barcelona to realize that I really do like living in the back of beyond. I felt so strange in Galesburg... so out of place. I didn´t mind all of it, but there were things about it that I felt I couldn´t live with. (Bugs, for example.) I was ready for a change and I wanted, I needed, to get out. This was something I had known since high school. But I wasn´t in a hurry. I decided to go to Knox College instead of some other faraway school, and I´m still happy with that decision (even if now I´m not so sure that Knox will be the place I loved these last two years when I get back...) Anyway, now that I´ve bided by time and taken my opportunity to do something about it and get myself out of the United States, I realized that I was right about some things and wrong about the rest.

1. Barcelona, as beautiful and interesting as it is, is nowhere I can (or want to) live for the rest of my life. (Sorry ´bout your luck, Mom.) Even though the streets are clean, the air is filthy. I can feel the pollution aspirating in my throat and lungs when I breathe. Talk about depressing. The thing is, being a college student makes me feel a bit homeless, a little lost. Transient. And frankly, I´m not sad about knowing that I don´t want to live in Barcelona. The way I see it, I may not know where I will belong, but I know where I don´t (or don´t want to) belong. Wherever I live, it won´t be in the thick of the urban jungle. Simply put, I like breathing.
2. The United States isn´t perfect. But neither is the rest of the world. And I need to make more of an effort to stop referring to it as "America" because there is more than one country in "America". (Like Canada!) I will never forget how ignorant I felt when I realized what I was saying... like the United States is the only country that matters... ugh. I´m so embarrassed. But what I´m trying to get at here is that I don´t know if I´ll live in the United States or not. I´ll make that decision based on what place makes my life easier, probably. Its just a matter of what rules I want to play by.
3. Cameron, Illinois isn´t so bad! What it lacks in cultural stimulation (I can only watch tractor pulls so many times, sorry), it more than makes up for in atmosphere, ambience and SAFETY. Being afraid of a skunk down the road is something I find infinitely preferable to being afraid of the creepy drunk guy at the other end of the street. I´ve never realized just how terrified I am of being in a situation where I can´t protect myself. It is easily my biggest fear. (My second biggest fear? Well, as long as I´m pouring out my soul, it´s the fear of losing my quality of life to poor health). So little Cameron, Illinois, in all its quaint familiarity, has given me exactly what I needed the most all these years -- clean air and a safe haven. Of course I appreciated these things, but now instead of just being grateful when I found it convenient, I find these characteristics to be priceless. Who knew. (Note: I´ll never call myself a "farm girl" though. I can´t do it -- makes me feel ridiculous. It just doesn´t fit. But then I´m not a "city girl" either...)

Sigh... okay, that really is enough for now. I feel better -- I think I needed to get this out. Seeing my thoughts helps to sort everything out. And now, I don´t really feel like I´ve reached a conclusion. There isn´t really anything to conclude. These are just things I´ve observed and noted, with some surprise. Then again, I´m easily amused.

To whoever managed to read all of this: First, I´m impressed that you stuck it out. I probably would have stopped reading a while ago. :) I don´t know how this is going to register with you, but I´m sure you understand by now that this wasn´t written for you. I wrote it for my own sanity, but about halfway through I figured that since I had gone through the trouble of writing it, there wasn´t any reason I couldn´t share it.

Roma

achavero — Mon, 22 Oct 2007 00:00:00 GMT

Where to begin? Well, I´ll start with last week. On Monday, I found some cheap tickets to Rome. Before I went home that day, myself and two others bought tickets and booked a hostel for three nights. Tuesday was spent packing. Wednesday, I had class all day and by 9pm I was in Rome! Thursday, we did... so much. Vatican Museum, Sistine Chapel, St. Peter´s Basilica, Pantheon, Spanish Steps, Trevi Fountain, pizza, gelato, pasta, Piazza Navona and Piazza del Popolo. Finally, the Medici Villa and surrounding park (great views). We worked out the bus system, the metro system and even got lost for about 20 minutes. It was a big day. :) Friday we did more touristy things like the Colosseum, Palatine Hill, and the Forum. More gelato, pasta and pizza. Finally, our last day, Saturday, was spent wandering, taking pictures, and doing a little souvenir shopping. It was a much calmer day. We had already done so much, I think we were a little numbed at that point. Our flight left at 9pm, so we had plenty of daylight to wander and explore. We stopped by a lot of bakeries on Saturday.

So, what do I think of Rome? It´s hard to say. I felt, and feel, pretty ambivalent. Sometimes I was annoyed, sometimes I was totally enamored. Occasionally, I felt like I was stuck in an amusement park. Mostly, I was a mess. Emotionally, a mess. I managed to stand directly in front of the sculpture, Laocoon, in the Vatican museum, and seeing the anguish in his face and the veins, the tension, in his thigh brought me to tears. Seeing stones shaped and placed by people who have been dead for over 2000 years made me stop and wonder -- but it wasn´t over the craftsmanship (which was usually fantastic), it was over the idea of mortality. I´ve never felt so mortal and insignificant in my entire, if brief, life. Linguistically, a mess. Conversations that took two or three languages to get through were very common. Physically, I barely kept it together. It took two maps to get around the city, and while we occasionally allowed ourselves to wander, I had trouble letting go at first. With every step I was both exhilarated with the sights I was rewarded with and mentally recording as many details as possible so I could find my way back. But even then, I wasn´t ever totally sure of my location in time and space. Rome feels so disjointed to me. Seeing the modern, the reconstructed, and the original side-by-side, on top of and surrounding each other... after even just a day it blurs into a big... mess. For me, there is no way to successfully marry past and present. Past is past, present is present. They don´t go together. Can they complement each other? Perhaps. They just don´t fuse into a seamless entity for me.

And maybe what I felt in Rome doesn´t fall into a "normal" experience. Maybe I just took everything too seriously. But it was my experience and it was unforgettable. I have never felt so unsettled in my entire life -- physically, emotionally, mentally -- and while I never want to feel that way again, I´m glad it happened.

Leaving was also difficult. I wanted to get the hell out of there as much as I wanted to people-watch in Piazza Navona, eat pastries on the Spanish Steps, lust after purses and shoes, window shop and feel sorry for the drivers who chain-smoke while waiting for their charges to come out of Cartier, Dior and Ferragamo laden with shopping bags full of tissue-wrapped accessories, and overindulge in gelato -- which is just a small portion of what I managed to do with Erica and Jen.

But getting back, even at 2 am, was a relief. Going somewhere else and being even more awkward, foreign and out of place does wonders for making your current living situation feel more comfortable. I came back from Rome feeling much better about Barcelona. I even have a little more faith in my Spanish now because I know it works... in Italy, at least.

Part 2: la vida cotidiana

achavero — Tue, 16 Oct 2007 00:00:00 GMT

This is all about my daily life -- where I live, how I get around, etc.

First things first, I live in the Grácia neighborhood of Barcelona. This was originally a tiny pueblo that Barcelona basically overwhelmed. As a result, the streets are narrow and tree lined, the shops are tiny and unique and there are all kinds of little plazas randomly interspersed throughout the area. Basically, its a small town in a big city. Not the suburbs, persay, but there is definitely a small town vibe, in the way that people will recognize each other on the street and its not very touristy. For those of you who can, imagine the "historic" part of Galesburg´s Main Street/Seminary Street area. Now instead of office buildings above the ground floor businesses, imagine lots of apartments, more small trees lining the (narrower) sidewalks, and lots of vespas tooling around. That´s where I live.
I am staying with a host family for the year. Wonderful people. Right now, there are four people living in the apartment -- myself, Pepita (host mother), Juan (host father), and Virginia (their daughter, 25). I have a tiny room -- just enough space for a twin bed, dresser and nightstand, but that is more than made up for by the fact that I have a private bathroom.
My host mother is a fantastic cook. There really isn´t anything more to say about that. I just plan on learning a few things before I go home in June. Given that I´m not really known for my culinary skillz, this could be... interesting. But I´m optimistic, I mean, how hard is it to mess up anything that starts with olive oil and garlic? Besides, I can boil water. And I can make good chocolate chip cookies.
What else... oh... location! If you check out a map, you´ll see that I live in what is more or less the middle of Barcelona. Parc Güell, la Sagrada Familia, the Univeristy of Barcelona and Plaza Catalunya (the heart of public transportation and businesses of the city) are all easy 30 minute walks from my front door, and they are all in totally different directions!
As for getting around, I usually take the metro. It´s fast, pretty clean and goes to pretty much every part of the city. I haven´t tried out the bus system yet. Its more extensive than the metro, so the map is more difficult to read which is why I don´t really bother with it. However, I do know that if I ever need to take the bus, I need the Blue Line, Number 55. Both the metro stop and the bus stop are around the corner from my apartment.
Anything I forgot to mention... oh yeah, I have "my" gelato place. Gelato is pretty much the most fantastic thing in the world, by the way. I was walking home one night and while I wanted gelato, I didn´t know anywhere to get it. So I got overwhelmed and headed for the metro. En route to the metro, I walked past Dino´s, saw the 20+ kinds of gelato they had and when I saw that they had mango AND kiwi, I was sold. I´ve found that the litmus test for gelato places is to try the mango. If the mango tastes like mango, then its good. At Dino´s, not only does the mango taste like mango, and the kiwi like kiwi (and the same goes for the Milk Chocolate, Black Raspberry, Dulce de Leche, BonBon, and Creme Broulee...), the one male employee hands it to you with a wink and doesn´t make you pay. Okay... well, he winks at me and doesn´t make me pay. I did at first though. But its kind of expensive there!
Along a similar theme is "my" internet cafe. Its a block from home, and has one of the "cheapest" rates (of one euro per hour). No, one euro an hour isn´t cheap by poor-college-student standards. I go there when I can´t use the University computers (on the weekends). The guy there generally doesn´t make me pay. I´m there quite a bit. Recently, I´ve insisted on paying because I realized that he seems to think that his "generosity" means I´ll go out with him.

Um...No. No way.

Sigh, I suppose I should comment on the whole Amanda-gets-free-stuff thing. At first I thought about refusing the free-ness, but I realized that I am poor, they are disillusioned and as long as I´m honest and don´t lead them on if they ask me out, I have no reason not to appreciate their kindness (even if their motives are less than pure).

That is part of not just my, but all female life here though so there´s no point in me glossing it over. I don´t like to think about why men feel entitled to stare or whistle on the street, or why some men think that they can "buy" me with free internet or gelato (neither of which is really an act of generosity because they don´t own the businesses). I could talk forever about the cultural differences of Spain and the United States, but that would just make me sound ignorant and short-sighted. I really don´t think there is any inherent difference. You just deal with it.

Finally, I think that after a month, I have struck a balance between local and foreigner. I "look" like a local -- dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin. My accent is painfully American, but there are a few phrases I can say that don´t showcase that fact. I dress more or less like I did at home, but that doesn´t make too much of a difference because anything you see in the United States can be found here. Finally, my favorite day-to-day bag is a canvas tote that is more or less an Andy Warhol tribute. It has three screen prints of the Campbell tomato soup can stitched to the canvas on one side, referring to one of Warhol´s most famous pieces. I use this bag for everything because I can fit everything in it. And when people see me, sometimes I see the recognition on their faces. It usually happens with tourists. They see my bag, but then they see me and they don´t know if I am being obnoxiously American or if I am a Spaniard that knows American culture or just happens to know Andy Warhol. It´s sort of fun.

Also fun is when people ask me for directions. At first I would give them a terrified, deer in the headlights look because I didn´t know Barcelona any better than they did. But now, I realize that they are probably asking me directions for one of three reasons.
1. They are desperate and I was the next person to walk by.
2. I look like I might speak English.
3. I look like I would actually know the answer to their question.
(And sometimes, if I´m in a bad mood and they ask me directions in English, I only answer them in Spanish. Its only happened a couple of times though.)

Well, that´s pretty much it. I decided yesterday to leave for Rome tomorrow, so I need to pack tonight. The tickets were really cheap. For the record, that´s definitely the most spontaneous and momentous thing I´ve ever done. I´ll make sure to take lots of pictures and tell you about it when I get back. Ciao! :)

The Set-Up, Part 1

achavero — Wed, 10 Oct 2007 00:00:00 GMT

Okay, so there needs to be a little backstory... something to put this all into perspective and in some sort of order. This is my version of house-keeping.

The Program: I am participating in the Knox College Progam at the University of Barcelona. The director is Tim Foster, a professor at Knox College, and the assistant is Susanna "Suzie" Stone, a graduate of Knox and a former participant in this program. They are very cool people, and fortunately so because I see them on a daily basis as they help me with everything from classes to visas, residency cards to advice on what bars are worth visiting.

The School: The University of Barcelona was founded in 1450. I go to school in a castle. Pictures are forthcoming. It is located, more or less, in the heart of Barcelona. It is a very short walk from Plaza Catalunya, which is the ground zero of activity for many businesses, including tourism, and all public transportation originates, ends, or passes through this area. The department I am enrolled in is the Philology department, which is roughly equivalent to Knox´s Modern Languages department. It is mostly a commuter school, there is no 24-hour computer lab (like Founder´s lab at Knox -- which I never thought I would miss!), but there are a few courtyards and gardens, and I have yet to find any of the libraries but once I do I´m sure I´ll have a lot to say about them.

The Classes: The year is divided into trimesters, and each student takes three or four classes (one on audit), with only one required class, Syntax and Composition. I am taking four classes this trimester. And no, it´s not very difficult. They are: History of Spain, Contemporary Spain, Art History 1, and Syntax and Composition 1 (audit). The classes are all 1.5 hours long, and all of them are lecture-oriented. (The S&C class obviously has more of a participatory element, but that´s because it´s a grammar course.) All the classes are taught in Spanish.

The Professors: All are faculty of the University of Barcelona.
-Professor Bertrán is the only man I´ve ever met who´s eyes sparkle when he talks about Roman history (Barcelona is a Roman city, after all). His excitement is contagious and it makes his classes terrifically interesting (yes, an interesting history class, I know. It really exists).
-Professor Reyes is my professor for Contemporary Spain. For those of you familiar with the Knox community, he is a smaller, Spanish version of Xavier Romano, sans the bow tie and with more hair. For those of you who feel left out at that statement, he is a round, well-dressed man with a bubbly personality, a penchant for talking with his eyes closed and for making small gestures of emphasis with his hands. Their voices even sound similar.
-Professor Moreno is my professor for S&C. I know by now that she speaks English, even though we only speak Spanish with her. She has a very warm, comfortable presence in the classroom, which is good because it makes you feel less awkward as you verbally stumble around phrases in Spanish. She is even gracious enough to resist cringing at the most American of accents. (For the record, I cringe at my own accent.)
-Professor Losada is the Art History professor and is thus the most entertaining personality. His favorite tangential monologues center on the themes of love, old age versus youth (and his preference for the former), and how being old means knowing the difference between lust and love. His classes are the most philosophical in nature, and usually leave me reeling with all kinds of ideas and perspectives to think about. That is probably just because I tend to overanalyze things though. I have the feeling that other kids in the class are not so profoundly affected.
In any case, I love my professors. I even think I´ll adore them in 7 weeks, when final exams will be looming threateningly.

Part 2 will be coming next... since this was all academic, the next bit will be about "la vida cotidiana" (daily life).

I like Barcelona, it just doesn´t like me back, yet.

achavero — Tue, 09 Oct 2007 00:00:00 GMT

I guess you could say that I´m going through culture shock. There, I said it. And here´s the kicker: everyone has all this advice to give and I can´t use any of it. I already AM doing what I can to chill out and just let things happen; to just do things that interest me; to relax and not stress out about the little things. I´m trying.
And these dear friends and family of mine immediately assume they know whats going on; I wish I could say they did. I really believe that I am in a different place than just homesick or just culture shock. I haven´t been "shocked" by any of this. I´m half Venezuelan for chrissakes! Hispanic culture is not completely foreign to me. Eating everything cooked/drizzled/fried in olive oil didn´t freak out my digestive system. I am not afraid to drink the water here. I actually like the food. I am good about greeting/saying goodbye with two kisses on the cheek (go left first!). I understand why a lot of twenty-somethings live with their parents. I don´t think its weird that most of the people here don´t have drivers licenses or own cars. I know that when you go to the bathroom and see pee in the toilet it isn´t because the person is dumb and forgot to flush, its because they are conserving water. I get it, I really do.
I am just having trouble playing by the rules of "how to get by" here. Well, first I had to figure out what the rules to get by in this world were, no thanks to the "orientation" I was put through, and now I´m just trying to live by them. And who knows, maybe that is what culture shock is all about. But I don´t want to give up and go home. I don´t desperately want to leave all of this behind me and go back to what is familiar. I don´t think that life in the United States is better than life here. Aren´t these supposed to be the red flags that let everyone know you´re going through culture shock? I like it here! I just am having trouble playing this game that is supposed to be my life. As a matter of fact, I really have no life. Not yet. If I´m shocked by anything its at the fact that I think the Knox Program has made living here even harder for me, so far. Being a part of a program puts a certain responsibility on you to be a part of that group and being a part of that group places a stigma on you. I spent the first 3 weeks here feeling like a tourist because almost everything I did was as a part of a group, and let´s face it, groups are the big giveaway for tourists. It´s no one´s fault -- not even the program´s -- just a simple fact. And I tried to do what I could to stop feeling like that but I couldn´t get away from it because of this necessity to be a part of this group, a part of this program.
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So here I am, two weeks into classes, three weeks into living with my host family, and four weeks as a tourist/student in Barcelona. Now that that is out of the way, I can get onto the stuff that is actually enjoyable to talk about.
To explain (because that seems fair), it seems like every introduction to a "travel blog" starts out with this incredible sense of elation and adventure and completely ignores the simple fact that being the new kid on the block really just sucks. If I depress you first, then everything else I write will be so much more optimistic, right? Actually, this is just the best way I could think of to get you used to, well, me. I don´t like to mince words, I don´t like feeling awkward if I want to bring up how I really feel, and I get really annoyed when I couch any negative opinions in statements that start, "I really love it here, but..."
So, great. Let´s see, anything else to get out of the way? (This feels like the first day of classes, when the professor makes you share asinine facts about yourself in the attempt that something will stick with them and help he or she to remember your name.)

I love chocolate and gelato. And chocolate gelato. I´ll probably refer to these a lot.
I´m not very funny but I make up for it in sarcasm.
I appreciate brutal honesty.
I laugh easily.
I am a horrible poker player.
My hand-eye coordination is sometimes questionable, as is my depth perception.
I consider myself athletic, nonetheless.

Well, I guess I´ll just leave it at that -- everything else will come out eventually.

Until I get frustrated enough to rant about something, or excited enough to wax poetic about it... Amanda