Eviiiiiiiita Eviiiiiiiita

Saturday, we had a program activity. We went for a lovely walk up the mountain, Tibidabo. There’s an amusement park up there, but that’s not why we went. We went for the food.

Calcots are mild green onions that look like leeks. I’m fairly confident that they only grow in Catalunya, the region of Spain in which I am currently getting funky. They’re harvested in the winter. I heard the story that a calcot famer accidentally dropped one of his giant onions into the fire. Being a frugal man, he pulled that sucker out, peeled off the charred layer, and ate the good stuff. Shortly thereafter, he was known as a culinary genius for creating the calcotada.

A calcotada is grilled onion, and it’s, also, the whole oniongrilling-winedrinking-bibwearing event. That’s why we climbed the mountain. Yass. We wore bibs. First, they gave us grilled bread. We rubbed tomatoes and garlic on it and poured olive oil on it. Second, we had calcotadas. You peel the charred layer off, dip the onion in some romesco sauce, tilt your head back, and drop the onion in your mouth. Third, they gave us salad and olives and roasted red pepper. Fourth, we had grilled ribs and sausage with a garbanzo bean dish and french fries. Fifth, they served some cream puffs with chocolate sauce. The next Evening with Rob and Jay will be a calcotada event.

We also drank wine from a porron. It’s like a community water bottle. You just grab it and pour some in your mouth. That thing on Mrs. Hellstrom’s desk wasn’t a bong; it was a porron.

Three more classes started this week. Two of them are in Spanish. That’ll be something. I have two marketing classes, one in Spanish and one in English, and the same guy teaches both of them. He’s a Spaniard who learned English in Miami. He has a Cuban accent. He tells jokes and stories for at least half the class. Today, he cracked up over the “rapid penetration” approach to marketing. He says it’s much better to penetrate slowly.

My senora’s grandkid is howling at the moon right now.

I got sick this week, sinus infection or something silly like that. I tried to wait it out, but those damn Spanish illnesses are persistent. This was good fortune, however, because I had the opportunity to meet a Barcelonese doctor. Nice guy. There were books all over his office, very fine leather bound books like Don Quixote and whatnot. And I looked at them.

Today, I got to chill with my senora because I stayed home from school. We watched a cooking show together. The host was a talker. It was a half hour show and all he made was pork chops with a beat sauce and a sprout salad.

Tomorrow night, I’m going to Portugal to visit my sister. But she won’t be there because some Germans just gave her a job to hoop in Germany, so she leaves tomorrow. Also, I think that I might clip my fingernails tomorrow.

The Rain in Spain falls Mainly when my sister comes to visit

So… my sister came here from Portugal on Saturday. She brought Ze. He’s really Portuguese. All of us got down pretty hard. She left on Wednesday morning. The trip consisted of all of us walking to every tourist attraction in Barcelona. We didn’t actually go inside of most of the places because that would cost too much money. But if we didn’t go inside we looked at the outside extra hard. It was, also, raining the entire time Ze and Emily were here.

Saturday, we didn’t do anything.

Sunday, we went to Plaza de Espana, this plaza/fountain thing. We looked at the bullring. (Barcelona stopped having bullfights. So I’d have to go somewhere else to see one. We’ll see how that goes. It’s not a priority. For example, if I had to choose between going to a bullfight or eating some really good paella, then I would choose the paella—but only if it’s really good.) We looked at the National Art Museum and saw one exhibit before someone asked to see our tickets. We looked at the Greek Theater which I found out they built for the World’s Fair (sorry dude). We saw some of that Olympic business that was built for the Olympics. We climbed Montjuic and saw the castle that was on top of the mountain. Castles are pringles. We walked to a few museums that looked very nice from the outside and are probably nice on the inside.

Monday, we went to Park Guell. That experience will be something I will talk about when I’m a rusty old gaffer. Gaudi designed the park for his bro Guell. I didn’t know much about Gaudi before I left for Spain. So far, without Wikipedia-ing him yet, I’ve discovered that he’s an architect that isn’t really into straight lines. Much of what he designs looks like it’s inspired from a combination of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Candyland. After the park, my senora cooked dinner for us. Paella. And almond ice cream. (I didn’t know what paella was until then. It’s essentially risotto with seafood. Ours had fish, squid, chicken, mushrooms, crawfish, artichoke hearts, and love.)

Tuesday, we strolled down La Rambla, gawked at things in the market, checked out some more of Gaudi’s buildings, and consumed many pastries. That night, we ate some tapas and hung out in the restaurant until it closed at midnight. Then we hung out on a bench eating fried corn and sunflower seeds until about 2. Then we all parted ways. My senora was awake playing her DS when I got home.

The rain didn’t bother us much. There’s only two things that melt in the rain. However, rain has a negative effect on washing clothes. No one has dryers here, so everybody hangs wet clothes. When it rains, my senora doesn’t do the laundry. I only brought one suitcase. So I’m wearing swimming trunks for boxers right now

Barthelona.... that's how they say it

I’ve been in Barcelona for a week and three days now or something like that. I could write mucho about it. I’ll put the most important stuff at the beginning, and we’ll see how it goes.

Food. My senora just made some salmon. Holy smokes it was good. She doesn’t mess around in the kitchen. She makes brekkers and supper for me every day. Breakfast is not hearty here, but I’ll roll with it. I usually eat little muffins and fruit. We get down at supper time, however. It’s usually soup or salad, followed by a main course like a Spanish tortilla or something magical like that, then fruit, then some dulces if we feel like it. She made me a chocolate cake for my birthday. Oh yes.

AND I ate tapas on my birthday. (When you eat tapas you buy a bunch of small dishes that are inexpensive and share it with the table. And you drink wine, discuss futbol, and talk shit about Franco.) Me gusta. We had calamari and shrimp with eyes on them and octopus and patatas bravas and other things that picky eaters would not enjoy, 12 dishes total. There were some picky eaters with me, so I cleaned house. The tapas bar was classy. Marc said famous people eat there, and Marc knows his business.

Ah, my senora, Magda Font. She’s the lady of the house at my homestay. It’s only me and her. Her daughter, Eva, and daughter’s boy, Roc, come over for every meal. Sometimes they sleep here, too. I’m confused by why sometimes they sleep here and sometimes they don’t. I’ll keep you updated on my findings. Magda is super nice. She’s going to make me sack lunches starting tomorrow. She’s also a night owl. I came back at four in the morning on my birthday and she was sitting on the couch playing a Nintendo DS. She said she couldn’t sleep –probably because she couldn’t stop thinking about the Legend of Zelda.

We live in a poor neighborhood. Magda was complaining the other day about how nasty the neighborhood has gotten compared to when her parents lived here. I think that Magda is not poor.

My Spanish family does not speak English. We get by with hand gestures, facial expressions, and sound effects. Right now she’s pacing back and forth in the living room talking to someone on the phone in Catalan. Catalan is a language that mostly only people from Barcelona know. Everything is in Catalan: road signs, restaurant names, advertisements. It’s something.

Ah, Marc. There’s 150 Americans in this study abroad program. The company divided the student body into groups of seven and matched each group with a Spanish student of our own age. Marc is our Spanish student. His job is to answer questions and show us the city a little. He’s dope, and my group is the best group that one could have. Coincidentally, three of us had birthdays this week – Friday, Saturday, Sunday. That’s nuts, eh?

From the beginning of the trip: First, it was widely believed before I left on my New Year’s flight that it would be a huge fiesta in the sky. That was not the case. At midnight eastern time, I looked around the plane. Nothing happened. No one else was looking. So I wished the Egyptian lady next to me, “Happy New Years,” and took a snooze.

After arriving in Barcelona, I took a bus to the center of the city. I exited the bus and forgot my jacket. So within an hour of arriving in Europe I learned a valuable lesson: Barcelona is colder when you don’t have a coat.

It took me a good three hours and much direction asking to find my hostel. No problemo. I was in a room with six beds, but I was the only one sleeping in it… the bed and the room. So I had that going for me. Hostels are nice dude. I wasn’t worried about my well being except for when I took my shower without flippyfloppys.

I explored a little. Two days later, I went to the hotel for orientation. I felt like a freshman again. We did icebreakers and whatnot. The best part of orientation was the breakfast buffet. Also, I met a kid who goes to a fancypants university on the east coast. He told me that he’s visited three Spanish speaking countries: Spain, Costa Rica, and Puerto Rico.

During orientation, I somehow tested into the advanced Spanish class. Ridiculoco. I didn’t understand one of the words in an essay question, so I wrote about how I like apples.

Magda picked me up from the hotel. I chilled with her and nine-year-old Roc the next day. Now, I know Sponge Bob is not entertaining in both English and Spanish.

The next day was Dia de Tres Reyes eve. (Day of the Three Kings (like “we three kinds from orient are...)) There was a parade. I took pictures. Dia de Tres Reyes is very similar to Christmas. There’s three kings—a white one, a black one, and a ginger one— instead of Santa. At night, the kids put out cookies for the kings and water for the camels. Then, the following morning they open presents. Magda got me a key chain. I dig.

Classes have started. We learn things. It’s nice.

Ah, my birthday. We went to eat tapas, and then we went to a bar called Chupitos (shots). We had shots that they lit on fire and such. That was something. The bar was small and completely packed with people. I believe everyone in the bar were smoking except for the nine people I was with. Just as the nine of us were about to develop emphysema, we went to a club. I proceeded to dance my shit off.