The lazy pigeons of Placa Catalunya

La Rambla Y La Placa Catalunya

Today was Sunday. So, all the stores and restaurants in our neighborhood were closed. Marleth and I decided to go to La Rambla and check out the shopping and all the tourist attractions. We saw plenty of street entertainers, endless stands that were selling jewelry and accessories and plenty of restaurants hawking overpriced Paella. We walked all the way up La Rambla until hitting Placa (Plaza) Catalunya which was absolutely beautiful. There are two gorgeous fountains there along with several statues and grandiose buildings that frame the setting quite well with their golden inlays and intricate details. Noticeably, the Placa is also home to a huge pigeon population that is reminiscent of the classic scenes from the center of Venice. Although, these pigeons are a bit sleepier, lazier and less excitable. It seems that these Spanish pigeons, like the Spanish intellectual, is simply unimpressed by anyone or anything.

Parc Guell & Sagrada Familia

Today was our second to last day in Barcelona before classes begin. We thought that it may be a good time to start seeing the sights. All I have to say about today is the following: 1) A lot of walking 2) Parc Guell is one of the most amazing things I have ever seen. 3) I need to go back to Sagrada Familia when I have more money so I can go inside.

On a funny side note:

I had the displeasure of walking through a construction site today. Unlike America, you can't walk under anything that they are working on. So, I unknowingly walked beneath a crane that was in the process of well "craning" only to be yelled at by the construction workers, " NO MORENA, MORENA" which roughly translates to "No brown girl"....

La enferma y las tiendas que no tienen sopa

As many of you know, I have fallen ill only three days into my journey in Spain. Since my last post, I have been able to weakly accomplish things that simply could not wait but have been unable to see any of the sights or really enjoy myself. I think that some faits have made me sick so that I could be grateful once I was no longer ill and then wouldn't think so much about missing home. True as that may be, I am still quite homesick. I miss everything. Right now, I am mostly missing my Grandma, her soups, my bed, my TV shows and my cat.

I got an irritating phone call today from customs. They are holding my trunk at the airport until they receive an email from me saying that I am not selling any of the contents, that they are for personal use only and why I am in Spain. They also are demanding a copy of my visa and my passport. I could have sworn that all of that was already inputted into the DHL website. Nonetheless, I managed to use the fax machine at the property management place that rented us this place as their office is a two minute stroll away. So, that rude woman has her faxes and her email. Hopefully, I can get my stuff. As I mentioned earlier, it's freezing here. I wouldn't be bothered by it so much except for the fact that I have to walk everywhere and the wind here whips through all the layers of clothing. My scarves, beanies and assorted coats are in that trunk.

Everything here closes from 2-4 PM for lunch and siesta. As a result, I am unable to buy any medicine or soup until later. Even at four most of the places are still closed. It's not exact. So, it's pretty much whenever the shop owner feels like opening back up that day. Hopefully I can get my hands on some soup, more bottled water and some more medicine before the sun goes down. It might be important to mention that the soup I am referring to is really just powdered bouillon in packets with freeze dried veggies as the Spanish don't really seem to eat chicken soup. I am trying to eat on the cheap while I'm here since everything is way expensive and all the costs from getting settled in are catching up to me fast. Yesterday I ate a bowl of Special K and two turkey and gouda sandwiches at home. I couldn't, however, figure out how to open the mustard container and ended up sawing the top off with a kitchen knife.

Something else that's different here is the paper. All the notebooks people use for school are in grid paper versions only and come in various paper thicknesses such as 6 and 8. So, I have a spanish notebook, a cold, some lunchmeat, a space heater, some tea and no soup. I may just give up and go get some fish soup as that seems to be all they have here. Or maybe I'll go to a chinese restaurant and get some sizzling rice soup or something. EESh...what a pain.

Cafe a llevar, el mercado y las primeras dias en Barcelona

The first evening that I arrived in Barcelona, I had a lovely little meltdown. The combination of jet lag, exhaustion and the realization that my life for the next four months would be immensely different, all hit me square in the chest. I called my Grandma which is what I always do when I can't breathe, sleep or think straight. It made me calmer to speak to her and I was able to sleep for about four hours.

Today, I awoke in slightly better spirits. The "better" mostly attributable to the fact that I knew I had much to do in order to get settled in and ready for the beginning of the semester and less having to do with not being homesick. It's not like moving to a new city or a new state. In addition to the geographic differences and living differences I am also dealing with cultural differences. This became immediately clear during the quest for my morning java fix. After stopping into a smoky bar (bar is more all encompassing of a word than in the US. It can include little snack/pastry/soda places, too.) I ordered "Cafe con Leche" which seemed a "so far, so good" exchange until I added "para llevar" (to go). It became evident that this was simply strange. The notion that one would not want to sit and nurse one's coffee along with half a pack of marlboros in a tiny, little bar was baffling to the barkeep. He realized, however, that I was not from around here and quickly adjusted his attitude and proceeded to pour piping hot coffee into a thin, wimpy PLASTIC cup. I, with hands burning had the pleasure of being looked up and down by nearly all who passed by. I was a scene unto myself.

After the plastic cups were disposed of we went into the grocery store to buy some food for the house. After shopping around the aisles, attempting to decode what it was that I was buying and lugging a rollable hand basket through the narrow pathways we quickly realized that we had to lug 15 bags uphill for about a 15 minute walk in the freezing cold. We saw an old lady who had a hideous plaid rolly bag that she was using for her groceries and asked her where we could get one as we knew that was our only hope. She told us to go down the street to a shop that "Chinese people own" and buy one. I ran down and bought the bag and we sweatily arrived at our apartment food in hand.