sunburns, bugbites, itches... oh my!

Hola! Here I am! in the big apple....

But can I start by pointing out that my great friend Jessie is by far the best clog- uhh blogger in all of bloggerville. good job jess!

Ok, so I'm sitting here at my desk, which has, in the last couple of weeks, become very familiar to me. A comfy chair and a computer dating back to 1995 really pulls the whole "intern" look together. Mom and Dad moved my in about 2.5 weeks ago, and I was scared to death. Not only did I have to figure out the grid of streets that make up New York City, but I had to move into a strange apartment, sleep on an air-mattress, cook my own food, start a new job, and find some new friends as well as contact the old ones. I had no idea how all of it was going to fall into place, considering I didn't have much time to figure it out. Walking into my new apartment, I was shocked at the thick layers of dirt and grime everywhere. It was bigger than I had expected, but I had completely forgotton that the girls living there had quite possibly the busiest lives known to man. They were never actually in the apartment unless they needed to get some sleep, so it had not been cleaned or decorated. The white walls closed in on me as I realized my parents were going to leave soon and I'd have to survive on my own.

I quickly decided to take action, run my subway routes to and from work, find the nearest (and cleanest) market nearby, and clean every corner of that filthy apartment. I needed to feel comfortable before I could feel at home in any sense. After all of these measures were taken, I was finally feeling like I could handle it all. It wouldn't be so hard... if you arrive at the wrong street, turn around and go the opposite way. I mean, they are numbered after all. Ever since then, I've been taking each day at a time. Things that seemed impossible have become much easier and I've been getting together with my favorite people from school pretty often.

Not long after I arrived, it was my birthday!! The birthday I have been looking forward to all my life. THE birthday. Luckily, it's the day before a holiday so I didn't have work that day and decided to sleep in as much as possible. Unfortunately it was only until 9am because of the lack of curtains covering my huge window. I woke up refreshed, took a long shower, and made a delicious breakfast while watching weeds on my computer. I was completely relaxed - just what I needed. Later on, Alix came all the way from philly to celebrate and we took a short shopping trip. Around dinner time, we gathered at Johnny Utah's for a nice dinner and a couple of drinks. It was just me and my 3 best friends whom I love SO MUCH!! As we ate, Amanda got a secret text that she showed everyone but me. There was a surprise! An hour later, my 5 best guy friends from school showed up and I could not have been happier! I hadn't seen them since december, so it was a really great present. We all attempted to ride the bull and then proceeded to bar hop all night.

At one of the bars, we met this really silly 30-something couple from Minnesota. The woman was a jolly elementary school teacher and the man had a legitimate mullet. They bought me a drink and we talked for a while. As we mingled around the room, the couple became nervous around 4am and decided it was time for us to go home. They escorted us all out of the bar, and put us in a taxi. She had a short chat with the taxi driver and sent us on our way. It was both strange and the funniest thing ever! Afterward, we decided to go to the diner right by my apartment. I unknowingly ordered a sausage and tomato omelette while porreca ordered a plate of pickles. In that diner we saw a very sparkly dressed woman (who I think was wearing a sparkly fanny pack?), and laughed about it for a longg time. We scarfed down our food and passed out in my apartment. I love my friends so much! Thanks for throwing me the best birthday ever!

I'm starting up again, peopleeeeee

I'm back from my temporary hiatus... I've just been figuring things out for the past month or so.

COMING SOON: My New Life in New York City!!!

I can't wait to ride the subway, get lost, go shopping, go out, eat swanky NY food, start a job, wear a suit...

It's going to be a BLAST

To work or not to work? Spain's eternal question

First, and foremost... I realized that my dear old blog is public. I did this because I don't necessarily mind if random people read it, and because making it private is a big fat hassle. However, let me set some ground rules for you people who browse the endless blogs of Google during your lunch breaks for god knows what reason -- please refrain from commenting on my blog. It gives me the heebie jeebies. Only people I know personally have that esteemed privilege. Gracias!

On a much lighter note, I just found a two page journal entry I wrote about a month ago in one of my notebooks for my travel writing class. It was a little surprise for me, which I enjoyed, so I'll just type it out...

"It's hard for me to grasp, but people here genuinely prefer to roam around the city with their loved-one on their arm or walk their eerily human-like, overobediant dog down the street than get back to work. I'm drinking a coffee in the middle of the day on the outside patio of a coffee shop, wondering how all these singular patrons doing their crossword puzzles have the time for this? Did abruptly leave work at the sheer sight of their next assignment? Are they just plain bored? And what about the people surrounding me as I head down the street for class? I constantly see busy (yet mostly unhurried) feet dominating the pavement at all hours of the day. I like to imagine that they never stop circling the city. They simply walk through streets all day, and maybe stop to have a leisurely cup of coffee once in a while. They could not possibly have time to work with all this walking. And why are their dogs so obediant?!? Or, more importantly, HOW? To this day, I have already seen two dogs watch the light turn green, look both ways, and then proceed to cross the street. I think I've only witnessed one or two dogs that were actually on leashes the whole time I've been in Spain. These dogs must be geniuses, or Spaniards are magicians. Those are my only two explanations.

Now, on the subject of PDA (which I have been trying to get around to) -- I hated it at first. I hated the fact that every spaniard was ready and willing to indirectly reiterate my solo status. I never thought about my singleness as much as I did when I arrived here. But now that I feel more a part of the community, I've come to appreciate it (sometimes!). When I see a new or old couple walking hand-in-hand or with their arms around each other, it gives me hope and makes me smile. The older they are, the cuter they are! Although this regular PDA is a little jarring, I've never seen so many working, loving relationships in public. Back in the U.S., you might see a couple trying to get control of their crazed children, or an old couple complaining about the food they received at a nice restaurant. Here, however, you are frequently a witness to a pair of lovebirds at a crosswalk, sneaking a kiss and hug before the light turns green. In fact, I just saw it right now. Although my nausea sparks up at the sight (and sound, eewww) of heavily-breathing, making-out teenagers in Starbucks, I will choose to regard this cultural difference as mainly pretty great."

The Rain in Spain makes people insane

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.....

El resto de Febrero

So the rest of February was packed. Amanda and Lala came to visit, and we had so much fun. After all the site-seeing and fun nightlife, the funniest part of the whole weekend was their 4am flight back to Sevilla. We returned to Leah's apartment at 2:30 am from an early night of drinking. Amanda announces that she and Lala are just going to take a quick nap before they have to pack up and leave. I make it known that I think it's a bad idea, but i let them sleep, nonetheless. I snuggle into Ashton's amazingly comfy and empty bed for a long sleep. About an hour later, I hear Amanda in the room saying "Jackie?... Jackie??? Laura won't wake up. She keeps talking in her sleep. Will you helppp??" I giggled and walked over to Laura on the couch and shook her to get up. She repeated, "sí, sí, sí!" and I laughed even harder. After about 2 minutes of pulling her arms and shaking her, she finally awakened. She pulled her boots and coat on, slung her bag around her shoulder -- all with her eyes still shut. Amanda thanked me and I waved as they left the apartment. Hehe. I love them.

The weekend following their visit, we all went to Paris, France for our next excursion. Luckily, this time, all of our flights were on time and successful. That fact, in itself, was a miracle. When our first successful Ryanair flight landed, all the Spaniards clapped with excitement (per usual), and a shockingly loud horse-racing song came on over the loud speaker. Apparently since all of our previuos flights were messed up, we'd never heard this "congratulatory" song for the landing. It was both unecessary and hilarious.

The only word I could think of to accurately describe Paris was "cute." It was specific kind of beauty that can only be understood by experience it first hand. The streets were small and the markets were open with colored aunings. The cafe's looked like they were right out of the 1920s and all the peopl were relatively nice about our lack of french speaking abilities. The first day we ventured to the Louvre, Notre Dame, and got a little glimpse of the Latin Quarter right before dinner. The next day we spent most of our time at Versailles, which happened to be my favorite part of the trip. It was a little far from the center of the city, but being able to see the building again was incredible. The gold-laced gates and decorations within the mansion were breath-taking. But the most spectacular part were the murals and paintings in every room. While we were walking through, there was a man and his baby that always seemed to be with us. He would show her each room, and attempt at listening to his informative headphones, but failed every time. She was about 1-year-old and looked around each colorful room, wide eyed. Near the end of the tour, we reached a beautiful room decorated in gold with a large window that let in the rays of sunlight from outside. He set the baby down in the middle of the room and proceeded to take pictures of her from the corner. Everyone made the typical baby faces at her and couldn't help buy smile and say "awwww" to the person next to them. She responded with a cheerful giggle and wide smile. If I could have taken that baby home, I would have.

Since I moved to my new apartment, I've gotten a lot more comfortable. At first, I felt like such an intruder because all of these girls had been here for over a month and a half together, and they had become great friends. I would try to interject in their conversations but it was just awkward. Little by little, though, after making dinner and having some chats during the day with them, I feel more welcomed. We went out to a bar last night and I think after that, I feel like this is really my home now. I'm glad I moved, because if I hadn't, I would always wonder what could've been. I'm also learning SO much about cooking. It absolutely boggles my mind how much I do not know about cooking food for myself. I thought i'd be fine on the fact that I know how to make scrambled eggs and pasta, but after two days of that menu, I was dying! It's extremely beneficial for me to be here because my roomate Sarah seems like she knows everything about cooking. Last night, she was making home-made spaghetti sauce, and I was looming over her shoulder. I assured her I was not trying to be creepy, and that I'm just curious about how she could make such a concoction.

Long time no post... lo siento

Cheerio! tip-top! ello! -- those are the words we felt were necessary to repeat all day every day while we were in London, England. I'm sure everyone appreciated it. Besides all that nonsense, we had an AMAZING time there. Not only did everyone speak English, which was extremely refreshing to hear, but they were all so courteous and welcoming! Even the first man we encountered, the guy that puts your luggage in the bottom of the bus, helped us find the best way to reach our hotel in Kensington, which was breath-taking, by the way. All the quaint white-washed apartments/condos were so precious. When we finally got ahold of Molly, we went to the Tower of London and saw the King's chambers, and the torture rooms, etc. But we especially liked the Crown Jewels. They were so sparkly, and we all wanted our own multi-karat diamonds after we left. While we were wandering around, Leah strays from the pack and comes back saying, "hey guys, I think I just walked in on a play." Curiosity overcame us and we all walked into this half-empty room with a rope separating us and a small bedroom set-up. Two men stood amongst the ancient furniture in 16th century wardrobe and we wondered if they were supposed to start some kind of performance as they stared at us entering. Suddenly they start to converse with us, and I'm thinking this is against the rules. Aren't they supposed to be professional actors? They ask us where we're from and obviously make fun of me when i ask who's bed was in the corner. Insisting that the King was in Scotland at the time, I still had no idea whether they were acting or not. We were all too uncomfortable to remain in there, so we left in a hurry. My question is, what do they do when no one is in there? Do they still remain in character??

The next day, we saw the changing of the guards at Buckingham Palace, Big Ben, and Westminster Abby. They were all very picturesque, and I enjoyed just taking quick snapshots of all of them. That obviously left us more time to eat, which we did a LOT of. I know they say the food in London is gross, but if you know what you're doing and you're not attempting to purchase the "authentic" cuisine, it's actually really delicious and a lot like home. Both nights, we went out to a four story bar with a live band called O'Neills in chinatown. It was actually really fun, but the cover and drinks were so expensive. Lucky for us, English men actually buy girls drinks!! What a concept! Considering that everywhere we looked, Spanish speaking people popped up, I hope the men learned a little somethin about chivalry.

Sunday was the Sunday of all Sundays. Worst day ever!! If I could pick one day I wouldn't redo, it would be that exact day. After one of the metro lines broke down, we got to our bus to the Luton Airport (an hour outside the city). Halfway there, after chit-chatting a while, Leah and I start to feel a little down in the dumps. Even though we'd been feeling fine all day, car sickness took over and our riveting conversation turned to monotoned exclamations of, "i'm gonna vom" and "i feel terrible." We finally made it without blowing chunks on the side of the bus, and reached our gate early. After sitting in the plane for what seemed like ages (about and hour), the pilot beeps over the loud speaker and we are told that the snow is too thick and the runways are closed for the entire night. Panick struck and we tried to make a logical plan. An hour and a half later, they still hadn't let us off the plane to reschedule a flight or even get a hotel room. The oxygen seemed to be running low and my nausea was setting in again. In the United States, when something like this happens, an angry old woman or two might walk back to a flight attendant and demand that we get let out. However, Spaniards choose to treat such situations a little more.. how shall I put this... immaturely? They all decided it would be hilarious to continuously press the flight attendant call button over and over... and over again. Naturally, the flight attendants were furious, a couple fights started, and I'm still sitting there with my head between my legs.

When we were finally released, we slid/skied (in shoes) down the snowy hill to the nearest hotel and got a room. After we conversed with some very pleasant old people from England about their vacation to Egypt, I was feeling much more at ease. I enjoyed my own bottle of wine, and my worries were finally subdued. Gotta love Ryan Air.

Last but most certainly not least, Amy and I are moving! The other day, Marta came storming in our make-shift kitchen accusing us of breaking her (stupid looking) glass candle holder. I realize that a couple weeks ago, as I was fumbling around in the dark, I knocked over and broke one of her MILLION potperri holders, but does that make me a cumpulsive klutz? I think that's going a little bit too far. We attempted to tell her that we had nothing to do with it, but as our spanish abilities leaves something to be desired, we just sat there being yelled at for something we didn't do. In addition to all of that, we also came home to find that another stranger was staying in our apartment for 2 weeks -- a nice lady from France (I wish she was my seÑora). Marta proceeded to tell us that since it's getting warmer, more people will be coming in and out of here and we will eat with them every night and share this one coffin sized bathroom with her, her husband, and whoever may be filling the apt at the time. That's awkward. So this was seriously the last straw. She's rude and only does this for the money. So me and amy raised hell in the IES office and got moved to two separate apartments. Perhaps I will be able to feel clean after a shower. I've never been so excited. Goodbye igloo room.

Pictures I enjoy

He didn't call. butttt, I will post my favorite picture...
That's at Park Guell, a famous park designed by Gaudí, decorated with mosaic benches and cartoon-like buildings. We got lost on our way there, but it was worth it. It's so beautiful and very unique to Spain.

I also miss the puppies. They are unique in their own way.