Some Catalan guy called me this at Le Journal... possibly the best compliment ever from anyone in Barcelona... anyway, here is a little gallery of my all-too-brief time in Spain. Even though like one person reads this blog (and I talk to her all the time... thanks, LK!), I'll pretend that I have a little cult following that cares about what I say or do... even though I'm a firm believer that nobody really cares about other people's pictures especially when they're full of people that they've never met... a ver...
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Switzerland is a beautiful country. I spent a whole 90 minutes there and figured that maybe I should get a picture to preserve my memories of Zurich. Anyway, Zurich was particularly exciting because I got to hear everything in German, English, and Spanish... and I realized that any remainder of my already horrible German has pretty much disintegrated. Strangely, one of the only verbs that I remember is "einsteigen" (to board).
My tiny room in Barcelona (yes, that is my bed OVER my desk). I lived on
Torrent de l'Olla in the amazing district of
Gracia which, according to my brilliant roommate Daniel, was annexed by Barcelona a long time ago (by the way, my profile picture is my building in Gracia). I'm thinking, Gracia:Barcelona :: Barcelona:Spain or something. Home to Placa del Sol and actual locals. (If you look closely, you can see my wisdom teeth in a plastic bag on the blue map in front of the lamp.)
Some of my English students at
Oxford House. Jorge, Judit, Raco, me, Gustavo. Jorge and I bonded because we had both studied in Salamanca. Gustavo and I got pretty close. (Too bad he's gay because he's beautiful.) Raco is a wonderfully charismatic flamenco teacher (not to mention drop-dead gorgeous). HOW ATTRACTIVE ARE THEY? Great students who actually took us out to eat and dance with the locals. (Unfortunately [or fortunately] no pictures of Craig, the 40-something, bug-eyed, Venezuela-raised millionaire who is descended from the royal line of Liechtenstein. He was infamous for his desire of an American girlfriend, and he once asked me if I preferred European or Asian men to which I responded rather uncomfortably that I care about the content of a person's heart.)
Some particularly good friends of mine at
Le Journal: Ali (Australian), Jo (English), and Donna (Irish). Many a night spent with these girls who taught me that it's okay to drink beer at lunch and how to be set for the evening on 79-cent supermarket-bought red wine. That random finger belongs to our fellow trainee Frankie, a Bermudan whose 25th birthday we were celebrating. Ali, Donna, Frankie, and I were a part of the group who ventured to Placa Reial later that night in search of a fun time, but we got exasperated and just went home. (Las Ramblas is f---ing CREEPY at night.)
Awful picture of some of us at
Parc Guell. Our only day off (Dia de la Hispanidad) was the only major rainy day in the entire month. I'm with Helen (English), Daniel (Hong Kong), Jo, Susanne (Dutch). Still a fun day even though I ate crappy spaghetti for dinner that night.
Obligatory picture of
Sagrada Familia that accompanies any mention of Barcelona whatsoever. HOT day. I remember being annoyed that my lunch (overpriced pizza) was so awful, but what do you expect so close to Sagrada? Daniel, Donna, and Catherine (English) on my right.
Another picture of my class at
Hogar Extremenyo. Beautiful Raco and Gustavo in the middle with Keirsten (one of the two appointed "Californians" even though there were really four), Tony and Jane (English) on the ends. (Tony and Keirsten were in my teaching group; Jane was our tutor.)
My astrological twin,
Mo (New Zealander). We are both Libras born in the Year of the Boar. She taught me that "Kiwi" isn't offensive and used to joke that she could tell me my future by telling me about the past twelve years of her life. As Kate has said, Mo has LIVED. (She also confirmed that it's true that there are about four times as many sheep in New Zealand than there are people.)
Fun day of walking on
Montjuic on Donna's penultimate day in Bcn. Jo insisted that we walk up the mountain even though Donna and I wanted to take the funicular (one of my favorite words in the world). We spent the day catching each other up on gossip about our classmates (Donna is a little fountain of information). Here, we're facing the Museo Nacional, and we've got our backs against Placa de Espanya. Very pretty place.
My most reliable break buddies:
Kate (Australian) and
Tony. First of all, any picture of Tony (who taught me the concept of a "bender") must be accompanied by some sort of drink in his hand (including the casual family portrait that he showed me). We were famous for taking coffee or beer breaks whenever possible. I am determined to visit them in Melbourne and Brighton to see Kate's drag-king show and to discuss writing with Tony, respectively.
Daniel, my wonderfully brilliant and patient roommate. I bothered him pretty much every single night, and he never made me feel like I was being a total pain (which I was, especially when I'd ramble for hours on end at night when he was trying to get work done). Recent Amherst grad who would patiently listen to my horribly elementary French and pretend it wasn't akin to listening to nails on a blackboard. We didn't start REALLY talking until like two weeks into the course, which makes me pretty sad although if we HAD started talking earlier, he probably would've gotten totally exasperated with me. So hooray for getting to know each other late! We walked around the city a lot and ate good Japanese and Lebanese food together. (Sadly, we don't have a better picture together. I look like a complete idiot here.)
Ines, my beautiful rosy-cheeked Austrian. Can admit to having taped a picture of David Hasselhoff on her ceiling over her bed when she was nine, which makes me love her more. Beautiful Scottish accent from having studied in Glasgow and having dated her fantastic boyfriend Ruairidh (pronounced "Rury"), whose name-spelling has convinced me that I MUST give Gaelic names to any and all offspring that I may one day bear. A few hours after this picture was taken, she accidentally burned my chin with her cigarette but I found it absolutely hilarious and wasn't angry in the least.
Two of my Spanish (!) students,
Mauro and Stefania (dead ringer for Alessandra Ambrosio). We hung out quite a bit, and they taught me some useful things en castellano. Whenever Fani spoke to me, I was like a blushing schoolgirl because I couldn't believe that someone THAT beautiful would talk to little ol' me.
Ali and me. My favorite Perth girl has called me both "clever" (which boosted my ego) and "wanker" (which was a serious piece of humble pie). Either way, she made me think. (She also made me want to cry whenever she made obscene gestures when I'd be talking to nice Spanish boys.) Her gypsy-like lifestyle simultaneously amazes me and makes me want to wring her neck because it just reminds me of my own boring life. Informed me the day after I left Spain that she has abruptly decided to go to Cambridge, England, to volunteer for awhile instead of teach English in Bcn, as previously planned (she even had a job!). Much later that night (which was our last major bender all together as a class), she was one of the four girls who got her stuff stolen at the beach in Barceloneta by some loser teenagers who were wily enough to distract a group of like ten of us.
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So that was Barcelona. Like 2% of it. I'm sad to be back. A lot. (Especially since it's f---ing cold in New York, and it was like 75 on Halloween in Spain.) I've got some stuff right now, but I am determined to get back to Barcelona (or Buenos Aires or Rome or Warsaw or SOMEWHERE) before my 25th birthday. I think it'll happen (especially since I know now what I'm missing). When I first visited Bcn in 2003, I fell completely in love and VOWED to go back, and I did (albeit for a much shorter time than I'd anticipated although that's sort of out of my control). So if I'm not out of here by the end of 2008, somebody please get my butt on a plane. Because I'm scared that I'm going to be one of Those People.
Adeu!
