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.