blog blog blog. blog blog blog, blog blog. BLOG! Yes, everyone.... I understand that my writing is so captivating that, without it, your days drag on and on like the infectious cough my roommate still hasn't shaken. SO, I apologize for my lazy/ridiculously busy behavior as of late. I will finally return to blogging in this last month of being abroad.
To start off with, today it is raining. However, rain is not just an old form of precipitous weather in Barcelona. Here, it is a chance for everyone to take their crazy pills and head out the door. And naturally, more people use the city bus on days when it is raining. Because I live so far away from school, I use these buses to transport myself to and from in order to avoid an hour walk from which I usually get all sweaty. The people who ride the bus are usually really old, really young, or disabled, and in that sense, it is quite a pleasant experience. No one is trying to pickpocket you or stare you down seductively because of the light color of your hair. I usually enjoy the bus. But today was relatively bizarre.
After class, I went to the art supplies store to , yet again, spend my money on something totally useless for my art class. Next, I stopped by Starbucks for a large coffee and an hour of reading. As I stood at the bus station to return home, I was getting soaked. Everyone had decided that I was unworthy of standing underneath the awning, so they made a barricade of people to keep me in the rain. The bus came and I entered, hoping to get a seat. Strangely, all of the two-seaters had one singular person sitting on the isle seat, blocking anyone from sitting next to them. Usually, this is a major no no on the bus. I had to ask in spanish if I could occupy a seat, and was very thankful that I had. During the next couple stops, the bus filled up quickly and everyone in the standing area looked like a bunch of unhappy sardines. Sometimes during these rides, the bus drivers have to switch shifts. During this time, they usually take a little break and talk to each other. It's a little odd, but not a huge inconveniance.
As the man bus driver got up to go, he and the lady bus driver got to talking. Within 30 seconds, there was a loud rapping at the front door. An angry mob of old bus-riders were pounding on the doors to open. As soon as the driver opened them, the old women burst into an uproar. The man bus driver angrily mocked the leader of the pack by kicking the door three times and throwing his arms up wildly into the air, screaming something in catalán. He stormed off and the new driver stood up in her seat to duke it out with these old ladies. They were furious, however, I'm not sure why because there was a big overhang at the stop they had just been waiting at. The spanish are very strange when they fight because instead of cursing each other out and scowling, they make these very surprised faces and gesture wildly with their hands. Watching a fight, it looks as if they are telling each other a very involved, extreme story. After they cooled down and we started to drive along the road, we were slowing down because of traffic and a small white car turned into our lane, screeching slowly into the side of the bus. Between the curb and the bus, this little tin can didn't stand a chance, and we most definitely didn't feel it. Instead of dealing with the damages like we are obligated to in the united states, the driver waited for the tin can to back away, and just sped on down the road. She was having a definite "FML" moment.
This has been my day today.
In other news, I have been to Florence and Dublin since I last wrote. They were both two of my favorite trips so far since I've been here. On the plane back from florence I wrote a little blurb about what went down. So, in my next blog, I plan to re-live those ridiculous events. to be continued.....