I haven’t done anything overtly groundbreaking this week… or last week. It’s that crunch time in school before spring break.
My art class went to Sagrada Familia. It’s a big Gaudi church that was started more than 100 years ago. It’s projected to be finished in 2030. The outside is nice on two sides, and the inside isn’t finished. The whole project reminds me of a large scale 649 Bingham. It’ll be nice when it’s done.
My art class, also, went to the Joan MirO Museum, Fundacio Joan MirO. He was into minimalism. He also liked the idea of painting for the sake of painting, because it’s fun. He had a fly beard.
Last weekend, I decided to walk to Parc Guell to do my homework. So I got lost. But I discovered the biggest escalator that I’ve seen, yet. It led to some sort of hospital, a crazy person hospital I surmised. That’s where I ate my lunch.
I, eventually, ascertained my whereabouts and began walking in the direction of my destination. I, accidentally, arrived in the park to the north of my destination. It’s easy to get mixed up because they put all their parks on top of hills. You can’t see ’em until you climb the hill. Also, I’m horrible with directions.
This is how I discovered where the gypsies live, the other side of the hill. They have a lot of dogs. But I avoided the neighborhood.
I chatted with an elderly gypsy man that was picking wild asparagus. He sat down and smoked a pipe, and I ate a lollipop that my senora gave me for Tres Reyes. It was a smiley face Christmas tree with M&M’s for bulbs. We chilled, and he explained all the different things that you can pick around the city. At least, that’s what I figured he was saying. He was speaking in Catalan.
After some time, I said good-bye and headed for Parc Guell which I could see from my vantage point on the ground in the Gypsy park.
That’s it for the weekend. But for a different topic…
I brought a couple packages of razors with me to Barcelona to do my shaving, Wal-Mart razors. I forgot my good razor thing at Hope. Wal-Mart razors really portray my true shaving ability. So, every so often, for the first month or so, I’d come to class with my faced chopped to hell. Hence, I stopped shaving for 43 days. I could almost hide things in my beard.
The other day I got ‘er cut by an Argentinean barber. He cut my hair, too. And he washed my hair. What service! I couldn't help chuckle while he washed my hair because I don't, often, have other people wash my hair. The chuckling probably made it weird for both of us.
He thought I was German because I refused to respond to him in English.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Es no moco de pavo
Big week. Portice of Pickford and her friend came to Barcelona for three days. I had the privilege to show them around. It’s nice to see someone from home. I can throw out jokes about ice fishing, the I-500, and other Yooper business.
Portice’s friend, Adri, is from Bay City, so we had the opportunity to talk about how much we love and long for some Uno’s. (I’m sure it would keep in an envelope.)
Also, I went inside one of Gaudi’s houses, La Pedrera, on an Art field trip. Its real name is La Casa Milla. It got its nickname (the stone quarry) because the consensus from the average Barcelonese joe was that the apartment building was pretty home-ly. I agree, at least, relative to his other casas.
Modernisme is the Catalan architectural movement in which Gaudi worked his magic. The movement was inspired by nature. The outside of La Pedrera looks like waves, and the gate bars look like octopus arms. The top of the building looks like Luke Skywalker’s childhood neighborhood. La Pedrera is where George got his inspiration for that particular setting.
With another class, I took a field trip to the world headquarters of Mango to learn about the clothes binness. That was awesome. The tour was okay, but we got little sandwiches at the end which was great news. My senora didn’t pack me a lunch that day.
Took some exams in the Spanish language. That was something. Then, I bounced over to Germany for the weekend. That was glorious.
My sister picked me up from the airport. We went for a tour in the town of Speyer. They have a big church, imagine that. It’s famous, though. They’ve got some kings buried in there.
Germany’s weather was like springtime for H olland.
Saturday, I went to my sister’s away game in the city of Maisomethingsomething. Watching my sister hoop has become more and more enjoyable. I’ve been spectating my sisters’ basketball games since I was five. Well, I’ve been in gyms since then. The first couple of years I chased bouncy balls, read Hardy Boys’s books, and played Kirby’s Dreamland.
This occasion was especially dope because I haven’t been able to watch her for a good two years. I was in the rowdy section, too. Her team, the Towers, has a family of superfans that follow them around. That family hooked me up with a Bitburger (no, it’s a beer) and the rowdy section t-shirt that read: The Speyer Tower’s BIGGEST Fans.
So with a beer in one hand and a camera in the other I set out to make the Guimond family’s (and Grandma’s) presence known by shouting, picture taking, and sliding up and down the bleachers.
“Get your arms up.”
“Watch ‘em. Watch ‘em girls.”
“Bend your knees Guimond.” And all that.
The first half was damn exciting…
That night, we chilled with some Germans. We didn’t have any playing cards, so they made some out of my Weizen Pops cereal box. I will bring that idea with me to the New World.
I ate some wienershnitzel and sauerbraten. Wienershnitzel is like chickenfried pork. I thought sauerbraten was some business cooked up in the stomach of a pig, but I just looked it up on Wikipedia and it doesn’t mention anything about stomachs. As of right now, I’m unsure what I ate.
I was scheduled to fly out on Monday at noon thirty. My ride was late picking me up. I arrived to the airport with only a half an hour before my flight. But, luckily! my flight was delayed three hours.
After the three hour delay, everyone on the plane collectively decided not to take off for another two hours because we wanted more time to read.
The weather was something awful in Gerona… Spain standards. I didn’t find out until I watched the news with my senora that night, but it snowed in Gerona and Barcelona. That hasn’t happened in either place in thirty years or something. Exciting, eh? Thank goodness I’m in Barcelona to appreciate such an historic event. Snow.
Almost half of the people from the plane decided that they didn’t really feel like reading, so they stayed in Germany. That opened up a whole row of seats for me. I got to read lying down.
While I read the Poisonwood Bible, a lady came up to me and decided to talk to me about Jesus. She was a Russian, fluent in her home language, German, Spanish, and she got by in English. I soon found out that she was Russian Luna Lovegood. They have the same eyes.
She told me about how Jesus came from a tribe of aliens that built the great pyramids. The bloodline still exists, and Rockefeller was one of them. I had better change my money into euros because the U.S. is going to join the European Union due to some moneymaking conspiracy resulting from that alien bloodline. We discussed wholesome stuff like that. I got her email if you want it.
Gerona airport closed. They told us we’d land at Reus, then they’d bus us to Gerona. I was fine with it because I had plenty of book left. But Reus closed, and we landed in Barcelona. There was cheering when the pilot announced that news. It didn’t really shave off much of my journey time, though. We had to wait two hours for one of those giant rolling staircases which were in high demand because the airport was invaded with Geronanese and Reussian planes.
I could have used a couple more hours to finish my book, but I did get home before my senora put away the pasta.
Portice’s friend, Adri, is from Bay City, so we had the opportunity to talk about how much we love and long for some Uno’s. (I’m sure it would keep in an envelope.)
Also, I went inside one of Gaudi’s houses, La Pedrera, on an Art field trip. Its real name is La Casa Milla. It got its nickname (the stone quarry) because the consensus from the average Barcelonese joe was that the apartment building was pretty home-ly. I agree, at least, relative to his other casas.
Modernisme is the Catalan architectural movement in which Gaudi worked his magic. The movement was inspired by nature. The outside of La Pedrera looks like waves, and the gate bars look like octopus arms. The top of the building looks like Luke Skywalker’s childhood neighborhood. La Pedrera is where George got his inspiration for that particular setting.
With another class, I took a field trip to the world headquarters of Mango to learn about the clothes binness. That was awesome. The tour was okay, but we got little sandwiches at the end which was great news. My senora didn’t pack me a lunch that day.
Took some exams in the Spanish language. That was something. Then, I bounced over to Germany for the weekend. That was glorious.
My sister picked me up from the airport. We went for a tour in the town of Speyer. They have a big church, imagine that. It’s famous, though. They’ve got some kings buried in there.
Germany’s weather was like springtime for H olland.
Saturday, I went to my sister’s away game in the city of Maisomethingsomething. Watching my sister hoop has become more and more enjoyable. I’ve been spectating my sisters’ basketball games since I was five. Well, I’ve been in gyms since then. The first couple of years I chased bouncy balls, read Hardy Boys’s books, and played Kirby’s Dreamland.
This occasion was especially dope because I haven’t been able to watch her for a good two years. I was in the rowdy section, too. Her team, the Towers, has a family of superfans that follow them around. That family hooked me up with a Bitburger (no, it’s a beer) and the rowdy section t-shirt that read: The Speyer Tower’s BIGGEST Fans.
So with a beer in one hand and a camera in the other I set out to make the Guimond family’s (and Grandma’s) presence known by shouting, picture taking, and sliding up and down the bleachers.
“Get your arms up.”
“Watch ‘em. Watch ‘em girls.”
“Bend your knees Guimond.” And all that.
The first half was damn exciting…
That night, we chilled with some Germans. We didn’t have any playing cards, so they made some out of my Weizen Pops cereal box. I will bring that idea with me to the New World.
I ate some wienershnitzel and sauerbraten. Wienershnitzel is like chickenfried pork. I thought sauerbraten was some business cooked up in the stomach of a pig, but I just looked it up on Wikipedia and it doesn’t mention anything about stomachs. As of right now, I’m unsure what I ate.
I was scheduled to fly out on Monday at noon thirty. My ride was late picking me up. I arrived to the airport with only a half an hour before my flight. But, luckily! my flight was delayed three hours.
After the three hour delay, everyone on the plane collectively decided not to take off for another two hours because we wanted more time to read.
The weather was something awful in Gerona… Spain standards. I didn’t find out until I watched the news with my senora that night, but it snowed in Gerona and Barcelona. That hasn’t happened in either place in thirty years or something. Exciting, eh? Thank goodness I’m in Barcelona to appreciate such an historic event. Snow.
Almost half of the people from the plane decided that they didn’t really feel like reading, so they stayed in Germany. That opened up a whole row of seats for me. I got to read lying down.
While I read the Poisonwood Bible, a lady came up to me and decided to talk to me about Jesus. She was a Russian, fluent in her home language, German, Spanish, and she got by in English. I soon found out that she was Russian Luna Lovegood. They have the same eyes.
She told me about how Jesus came from a tribe of aliens that built the great pyramids. The bloodline still exists, and Rockefeller was one of them. I had better change my money into euros because the U.S. is going to join the European Union due to some moneymaking conspiracy resulting from that alien bloodline. We discussed wholesome stuff like that. I got her email if you want it.
Gerona airport closed. They told us we’d land at Reus, then they’d bus us to Gerona. I was fine with it because I had plenty of book left. But Reus closed, and we landed in Barcelona. There was cheering when the pilot announced that news. It didn’t really shave off much of my journey time, though. We had to wait two hours for one of those giant rolling staircases which were in high demand because the airport was invaded with Geronanese and Reussian planes.
I could have used a couple more hours to finish my book, but I did get home before my senora put away the pasta.
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