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.

Goalllllll!

Yesterday we finally made it to our first real soccer game! It was apparently a very important game -- Espanyol vs. Barcelona. The stadium holds over 98,000 people so those of us from PSU felt strangely at home. Compared to the zealous but only half-interested State fans, the spaniards here have a one-tracked mind when they are watching soccer. I swear, a meteor could be falling from space and they wouldn't take the 2 seconds to look up if it compromised their view of the game. It amazed me how everyone knew what was going on at every second, and I don't mean just when they're close to scoring. Even when someone falls or kicks the ball out of bounds, the entire stadium rejoices or roars in anger. It was really fun, but if you're not a soccer fan, it's definitely a one-time deal.

The funniest moment had actually occured on our way to the game. After getting lost on the metro, which only happens when we're in a hurry, my face starts sweating from all the walking and confusion. I look over at Leah, and for some reason, we are both having crazy hot flashes. Mackenzie cannot stop laughing as I'm fanning myself with my scarf and leah's looking for the air vent on the metro. If it wasn't the alcohol, I don't know what it was. Hopefully not early menopause :/

On our way home, we decided that the line down the street for the metro was way too ominous, so we opted for a cab. Going ten miles an hour down the road, I hear a weird bump sound and Mackenzie says "whoa!". Suddenly, the taxi driver stops and gets out of the car. The driver next to us had obliviously attempted to turn right and turned right into our taxi!! We seriously just got into a car accident. Our driver was so mad at him that she paid absolutely no attention to the 3 dollars we handed her for the one mile we'd travelled.

Vamos a movar!

Why is it that the morning after a long drunken night, when each hair on my head is individually deciding to rebel, and my eyeliner is creating a nice smudged look an inch below my actual eye, I feel compelled to participate more in my 9am class than on a regular refreshed weekday? I noticed this unusual trend at school in PA as well. I walk to class thinking about how much my head hurts and trying to suppress my nausea and I am 100% positive that participating in class is out of the question for the morning. Yet, as soon as the discussion begins, my arm seems to constantly raise and thoughts are spewing from my overactive brain. Perhaps a hangover is just what I need to get my day going (?)

The night that preceded this winning morning was another doozy. I was iffy about going out on a Tuesday night with a 9am staring at me from the future, but my friends convinced me to live a little. As I walk in the door of the apartment, I get a call from none other than Iven. Yes, it's Iven, cause now he's in my phone as well. My heart raced while my mind rushed to figure out what exactly he was saying. He does not speak a word of english and I'm not sure if that's a blessing in disguise or just another thing to cause me to be awkward. Face flushed and feet pacing, I tried desperately to end the conversation with my pride in tact. Despite my efforts, he was in no hurry and kept throwing out the longest and fastest spanish sentences I've ever listened to. I finally had to give up trying to sound smart and just spoke the slowest and best phrases I could muster. The result of that conversation, I think..... is a dinner date on Sunday! I know I should be excited, but all I can think about is the misinterpreted conversations and courtesy laughter that will be filling the night.

The phone call finally ended and we took taxis to the bar Pippermint. Here, they do not serve regular drinks, they only have Liters of drinks with multiple straws. Both unifying and sanitary, I think I'm really gonna like this place. We played it safe and ordered a 2L orange soda and vodka for the five of us while the two girls to our right ordered a 6L beer. Well into our next drink, a coke and vodka, I decide it would be my job to help them with their bucket-o-beer and I introduce myself. I'm sure they appreciated it. I want to go back and order the 10L just to see what happens...

OHHHH!!! I almost forgot. Marta came home today and informed us that we (all) will be moving into a new, and hopefully bigger and nicer, apartment in about a month or two!! Amy and I are ecstatic and can't keep from imagining the new digs. We get our own bathroom and perhaps it'll have central heating!

Vino Del Mar - drink o' champions!

My oh my...what a weekend. Our Friday night started off smoothly. We finally got out of the apartment before 1:30am and we were on our way to the coolest abroad hangout in town -- which I'm pretty sure is just a fishbowl-type spectacle for the Spanish locals who sometimes stop by. We safely made it there, bought two pitchers full of beer, turned around and immediately had nowhere to sit. As the 2 liter beer jug bent my wrist, I pleaded that we just sit down anywhere. Low and behold, a nicely crowded table of cat-calling men. How lovely. As it turned out, they were all very nice guys, however, some were more popular than others (Jirafa? no me gusta... please take a shower, sir). We were all talking, laughing, having a great time, when I suddenly spilled beer on my pants. Yessss! The tell-tale sign of a great night to come. At least for me it is. Per usual, we taxi-ed it to the club and got our groove on. This time, however, I did not waste 20 euros on two drinks (go me!) So we go upstairs and I am having a very popular night, however, things go haywire with the creepers surrounding my friends and we leave in a hurry. It seems to be an ongoing trend, now that i think about it.

Amy didn't come out that night, so none of my friends would let me walk home alone. Naturally, I have no problem sleeping on their couch, but even in my drunken state I remember a conversation we all had about how comfy our friend, Ashton's, bed is. With a reluctant "sure" from Ashton, I jump happily into her double bed ready for a great nights sleep -- unfortunately, so does Ashton and my other friend Mackenzie. At the time, I thought, 'oh how fun! slumber party!!!' As soon as we turned on Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants, they both passed out. I'm talking less than 2 minutes max. Meanwhile, both my arms are over my head, i'm in my full going-out wardrobe and make up, and from a bird's eye view, i know i look like a sardine. After several minutes of readjusting, I give up and try to watch the movie. By now, it's 6am and it's almost 98 degrees in that bed. The beads of sweat drip down my face and I wonder if this is how I'm going to go. Luckily, my alarm rings to go back home before our house mother wakes up, and I, as I later found out, drunkenly jumped out of bed and down the street. So bizzare.

El proximo dia, we had a Barcelona soccer game to attend. Excitement brewing, we pregame with a bottle of 2 dollar wine each. Classy. We figured every american football game we go to only gets really good during the second half, so we're in no rush. Yet, as soon as we step foot in the stadium, everyone begins to stand up, clap, chant, and then leave. Yup, we missed it. Apparently it's a 90 min game, not 90 min halves. But no worries, we rescheduled and we WILL make it to this next game.

We took a dreary, and extremely embarrassing metro ride home, and proceeded to get dressed for a fun clubbing night. Too lazy to go anywhere by taxi, we walk to the nearby club Roxy. Since I've been here, I've frequented this particular club and have caught the eye of a particular bouncer named Iben (or Iven). Tall, dark, and handsome with a long black wool coat, suit, and tie? bingo. So, like the regulars we are, I chat it up with my friend and we are admitted without cover charge. How cool am I?! We enter and immediately check out the upstairs bar too see if any free shots will be possible, but we are attacked by an over-eager beaver of a spaniard. Taking refuge in the French men next to us seemed like the smartest idea at the time, but ended up being smelly and unrewarding as well. At the end of our boring time together, Leah tells them, "Do you like pretty girls? well, when you like a pretty girl, you buy her a drink" They seemed both dumbfounded and just plain old confused.

We head downstairs for better luck, and I swear... at this point, i think everyone in there was gay. If we danced with a group of guys, they could care less about us, coming and going as they pleased. No big deal. We dance for a little while and then get invited to the "bottle service" stage. This is the glowing surface above the dancers that is just too cool for words. This very mousy small man keeps repeating "the drinks are coming!" and we just stand there and wait around. Finally, Leah inquires where there table is, and this guy cooly says "oh, i don't know... we just came up here." Welp, that's our cue! Without a goodbye, we leave the club, but not before Iben and I share a couple of poorly communicated spanish words. He asks for my number, and my night is made. Score!