I Speak Spanish Now

So I am unbelievable exhausted and about to crash for a nice, long nap, but before I do that I figured I better get out my blog about Carnaval before I forget any of it.

First of all, AMAZING. For those of you who know me, I don't throw around words like amazing, fantastic, sooooo much fun, etc, but this so was. It's going to be very hard for me to ever beat this party.

So Carnaval in Sitges is basically Spain's version of Mardi Gras, and one of the biggest parties in the world. The whole city celebrates with a giant (and super long) parade and everyone dresses up like we do for Halloween. I decided to recreate a poor man's version of my cop costume from last year and bought a hat and a sheriff's necklace, but most people just bought a mask or a feather boa to color up their outfits.

Now, in Sitges, there are drag queens everywhere, and boy oh boy do they love having their picture taken. Before the parade, random men dressed as women would walk down the fenced off area and just pose for people's cameras. And the parade? Even better. There were drag queens and sexy (and some not, but all could dance) dancing women and men in these teeny vegas like costumes. They also happened to be very drunk, and came over to take photos with us. Unfortunately, my camera died right as the parade began, so I plan on stealing some of Lauren's photos. Needless to say, it was fantastic. Best parade ever.

After the parade, which took a grand total of 3 HOURS, and after eating a large salchicha, we went down to the beach where there was a mass of people dancing to techno. That's right, techno party on the beach. It was fantastic, just a sea of people in different costumes dancing and laughing. We ended up spending most of our night dancing with a group of people dressed up as giant babies. They were sucking on their pacifiers the whole time, and had toys they would stop and play with in the sand. It really felt like a whirlwind... just dancing and laughing and moving around from one person to another....it was like everyone had known each other for years.

We got incredibly lucky when it came to the trains, because as fun as I am making this sound, the one downfall was the crowds. It was so packed that you literally couldn't move, and occasionally couldn't breathe. For you Chicagoans, think Taste of Chicago at the peak hours, in the middle of the worst crowd, except this was all over. So we left for the train, thinking we were leaving incredibly early, but we were so wrong. We got there just before the masses, and managed to get on one of the first trains back to Barcelona. The lines for the train after us went down the whole street. It was crazy. Also, weaving through the crowds, I heard the word "Policia" shouted at me at least every 5 seconds by someone different, despite the fact that there were about 100 other women dressed as police officers throughout the city. Oh, and people like to take your hat off in Sitges. Beware.

So that is my summary. I also realized I didn't talk about Calcotada last time, so I'll make it quick. Great food, onion things we ate on top of a mountain in Barcelona. And pictures. (=

And now I'm off to bed.

I should've started writing awhile ago, not to mention that I should be writing more on this in general, but I'm bad at logging my experiences. I'm great at discussing my emotions and love life. That, however, is not quite yet public.

Anyway, I've been back in Barcelona for almost 2 months now, and it is very very very different the second time around. The program, unfortunately, is clearly not tailored toward year long students, and we continually were and are screwed over when it comes to trips and general information.

I've joined a gym for the first time in my life, and its been pretty fun, minus the time Olga made me do the spinning class and it made me want to vomit. Turns out I can get in shape pretty easily, it's just maintaining which is the problem. As fast as I get muscles I lose them. I also could use a tan. When is the summer coming to Barcelona? Then again, its 60, and if I didn't have the flu right now I would probably go out in the sun everyday at noon. Freaking flu.

We went to Sevilla this semester instead of Madrid, and I think I liked Madrid better. Seville was by far more beautiful, with the fantastic weather and orange trees everywhere, but in general, it scared me a bit. Very local, and the nightlife was bizarre. They were prejudice against blondes. That's a first in my life, and let's just say, I'd like not repeat it. The bouncer asked us for our passports and 50 EURO to enter. We just laughed and tried to explain that he already let our friends in for free. Arguing in broken Spanish never seems to work so well for me, but at least I tried.

So as I mentioned before, I have the flu. What I did not mention, is that I have a kitchen-mate this semester. Her name is Marta, and she is very nice, however, a tad young so therefore a tad loud. My favorite Marta moment so far had to be this. We were in the kitchen, and I was toasting some bread, and I told her that it was the only thing I could eat. She asked if I had the stomach flu, and used the exact medical word, gastro something, and I added that I could have rice and apples but that's about it. She then says, "Y jamon". (and ham) I stared at her and said, no...I don't think so. And she said, you know what jamon is, right? And I said yes, but I'm pretty sure you can't eat ham with the stomach flu. She simply continued to nod and said oh yes, you can eat ham. I am sure of it.
Spanish people and their ham, man.
Telling stories that took place in Spanish in English is odd. I don't think I like it.

So Carnaval is tomorrow in Sitges. I skipped out on Saturday because I still felt sick, and of course, I am not feeling much better, but I desperately want to go. It's Spanish mardi gras for christ sakes! We'll see how I feel tomorrow...

I'm learning to cook this semester, and have an album up of all my culinary creations. It's a lot of fun, actually. It makes me really excited to have a roommate to share it with (looking at you, Aymi).

The idea of getting a job is positively terrifying. The economy is shit, and with so many people being laid off, how can I expect to gain a position anywhere? It's going to be internships (if I'm lucky) and part time jobs to save up for rent on an apartment. Ugh, I want an apartment.

I had a dream about skiing yesterday. I miss it. And I miss having cats around. It almost makes me want to get a small dog. Almost.

Well, I suppose I should go to bed and contemplate going to Sitges tomorrow. I went this long without getting sick, and then it had to be a stomach flu. Freaking lame.

Remember this Aymi?

"Derrrrrr."

Really made my night.

So here is my case in point for why expensive food in Dublin upset me. I just got home from a 15 euro dinner, and here's what was included.

Two indian meats, one lentil dish, one yogurt dish, two large pieces of bread, a bowl of rice, salad, a beer, that appetizer crispy bread indian thing, a shot, and a hindi leaf cigarette at the end of the meal.

For 15 euro!

YA.

-yesterday, when I was in class writing my Dublin experience instead of listening-

I am pleased to announce that in comparison to Barcelona, Dublin is small and boring.

Now that I've gotten my pessimism out of the way, I'll talk about my weekend.

Our hostel was really really nice, and according to everyone staying in my room, completely spoiling me for hostels to come. The only strange part was waking up in the morning with cold symptoms, which would then disappear the minute we stepped outside. Mildew maybe? Who knows. It seemed clean...

We then mapped out our walk to the "Viking Area" and we expecting at least a 20 minute walk, but it was 5 minutes later and we were there. It was a cute town, with lots of X-mas decorations, but reminded me a lot of the US. This made me miss the US while simultaneously making me appreciate the size and sheer insanity of Barcelona.

Alright, cultural comparison time:
In both Spain and Dublin, people bump into you and invade your personal space when shopping, however, Irish people apologize. Now, this may seem nice at first, but I think the Barcelona attitude has invaded me. All could think about was, "You don't mean that you pushy jackass". (This was when someone shoved in front of me to get fudge...I was bound to be irritable.)

My biggest criticism, of course, is the price. Every single freaking thing was crazy expensive. 15 for a meal, 6 for a beer... 7 for fast food? We ended up living off of grocery store food, which was actually dencent and 1/3 of the price of anything else. My particular favorite was our trip to Bray, in which we brought an entire rotisserie chicken and two baguettes and ate it on the train. (Misha has the picture of this.) I can only imagine how gross we looked.

Bray was pretty, with the beach and a little mountainside. Food was 5 euros cheaper everywhere than Dublin, which made me not want to take the train back.

While we were deciding what to do before the flight, we came across a casino, and I got to introduce Misha to gambling. I'm pretty sure it was low stakes, because on the slots I made a euro and she broke even. We kept repeating, "Come on, Mamma needs a sandwich..."

I was expecting to speak English the whole weekend, but every single worker we encountered was from a non-english speaking country and increbly horrible at English. Our waittress at the Vat House Bar kept saying, "Okay", after every word, and Misha and I proceeded to joke that she must be from Barcelona. (In Barcelona everyone says "Vale" the equivalent of okay, constantly and rapidly between every sentence.) When she returned, we asked her where she was from. Barcelona, okay?
Oh yeah.

Point is, I'm ready to go home for X-mas. I feel like a big leech, just trying to get by, working but not having an income, being in school but having nothing to study. My job is to learn Spanish and to have a cultural experience, yet somehow, even this simple task has proved exhausting.

I suppose Dublin made me the most sad because I wanted it to be a real escape from foreign language, but it was almost worse because I didn't speak any of the languages. Heavy accents and a plethora of foreigners left me in the dust. I've spent so long learning how to express myself and analyze language, and I really miss it. Right now I am fine working in an area where I can only be useful for so much, but not for long. I'm bored.

Maybe I'll write a book in a year after I have a bit more life experience. Could be fun.

-the next day, when I'm actually typing this out-

In Nonfiction class, I remember June saying I had good comedic timing. I really struggle trying to find meaning in my traveling and in my experiences at Barcelona, and what's worse, I don't know if I really care about finding literary meaning. But, wouldn't this be a fantastic idea?
The candy travels.

I mean, it sounds silly, but I could make a story about candy artistic in a heartbeat.

For example, in Dublin, I encountered this disgusting flavor called Blackcurrant. It was in jellies, jams, and candy flavors, and literally made my face pucker. Additionally, I could easily describe the back story behind recieving these candies, which was a man from the Czech Republic working at a hostel, first commenting on how he surprised at how intelligent a blonde could be (whilst Misha and I played Who Wants To Be A Millionaire the boardgame, 12 and up) then hands me a bag of sour candy and says I should have it, and that some people buy girls drinks, but this is his drink to me. He also proceeded to explain how some people are addicted to cigarettes, but he has candy stashed everywhere. I just nodded fervently the entire time, surprised that someone else in the world did the same thing.

I mean, hell, even in Spain we already give the candy nicknames. Like the strawberry nipples, for example.

The point is, it wouldn't be simply a story about candy. It would be me, traveling, experiencing other countries, but picking out a very minute detail and cradling it to produce a story that maybe no one has before, and one that holds particular interest for me, because I really do aim to try candy all over the world.

Ah, side note: Must remember fudge story in airport as well.

Me: What is the difference between vanilla and chocolate fudge?

Cashier (who didn't speak english): Ahh, one is ah, vaneela, and one is uh, chocolate.

Me: Yes, but what is the vanilla, like white chocolate or light chocolate?

Cashier: It's fudge, uh um, it is like all chocolate but soft and uh, creamy...

Me: Yes, thank you. I'll take the vanilla.