Who doesn't love a top 10?

As my long journey is wrapping up in papers, tests, and projects, I want to take a moment to revel in the things that make Spain so special for me and so different from the States. Here's my list of top 10 things that I will miss when I leave Europe in 16 days.

mmmhmmm

10. Alioli
              It looks like mayo or frosting, but it's something completely different. Alioli (like alley-oh-lee) is made from garlic (ajo) and olive oil (oliva) hence the name. Perfect on some patatas bravas, and absolutely delightful. I will miss you alioli!

Monopoly!

9. Euro currency

           Seriously, how fun does that look! All the pretty colors, the bills all different sizes, and the change! Never have I felt so rich with a pocket full of change as I have since I moved here. The smallest Euro bill is a five, so you could have a handful of coins worth around 7 Euro! (The amount usually in my change pocket.) I have to go back to boring green money that's worth much less. And nothing's under a dollar. Sad. Bye fun money! 

Més que un sandwich

8. Doner Kebab
          Okay, this is a tough one to explain, so bear with me. Kebabs here are what we would call gyros in the States. And they are delicious. Outside of my school, there's a restaurant called Doner Kebab, which my friends and I lovingly refer to as Kebab. For example, "Guys, I don't want to look for food, I'm going to Kebab." It's our Central Perk. We get coffee there in the morning, bikinis at break time, and lunch there all the time. It's our go-to place. Until the delightful owner, Maggie, hurt her knee and left a few weeks ago. Now there's this other guy, and he sucks. He's nice enough...but doesn't know us like Maggie. SO! I'm going to miss A. Maggie B. Our restaurant, meeting place, hangout C. The actual food, and D. The memories from so many lunches on the patio.

Little Messi

7. Barça fans
        Futbol is a big deal here. Like a huge deal. It's an enormous deal. Big. I went to a Barça game my first weekend here, and it was absolutely incredible. I've also gone out to some bars to watch various games during the semester. And there is nothing quite like a Barça fan. They are fans from birth to death, and are loyal 100%. I went to Camp Nou tour yesterday, and the little kids running around screaming "Barça! Barça! BAAAAAAAAAARÇA!"were possibly the cutest sports fans I've ever seen. And although I've been a Bears fan since birth, these kids have me beat in enthusiasm. Bye little Barça fans, it's been real.

Wanted to make it far enough so there wasn't any visible nudity

6. Barceloneta
       Although I haven't actually been down to the Barceloneta since about mid October, it's still one of my favorite places in the city. For those that don't know, it's a beach that was made in the early 90's in preparation for the '92 Olympics to make the city more integrated with the sea. It's a whole lot of beach, and can get really touristy and crowded in certain parts, especially at the height of the tourist season. However, in September and October, it chills out a bit, and you can sunbathe and swim in peace. I loved swimming in the Mediterranean because the salt content is so high. I could float out in the water for ages, and the water even glittered from the sand. Perfect.

Only missing tortilla here

5. Tortilla/Pan con Tomate/Croquettas
       These are some of my favorite things to eat here. I know I've written about them before, but here's a quick refresher course. Tortilla is an egg, potato, and sometimes onion omelette/cake thing. Pan con tomate is toasted bread rubbed with garlic, doused in olive oil with tomato guts smushed over the top. And croquettas are like ham hush puppies. If you don't know what a hush puppy is, you probably aren't from the midwest like me. These have been an integral part of my diet for the past 4 ish months. And they will not be as present in the US. I can make tortilla and pan con tomate, but the croquettas will be completely lost. And this makes me sad. Bon appetite!

4. Barcelona International College
       My super teeny-tiny school has a very big place in my heart. Laura, Rich, Elena, Elizabeth, Sarah, Graham, and all of the interns have made BIC my home for the this semester. I know I'll always have contacts in Barcelona because of this school and how tightly knit it is. Although the projector only works every other day, and the chalkboard tried to kill us the other day, I'm so glad I chose this school. The professors are absolutely fantastic, and I've learned more from Veronica & Lorena in one semester than I have the past few years in Spanish. I'll miss walking with my friends around the school, but I will not miss the people constantly blocking the way (stupid Enforex kids). Love you, BIC!

Home

3. Sants
      From Plaça d'Espanya, to las Arenas, to Montjuïc, and Creu Coberta, I love my neighborhood. I've always felt safe, comfortable, and at home in Sants. I can walk home from my friends' apartment at 4 in the morning and not have a care in the world. Whenever I come in or out of the apartment building my neighbors always say hello with a smile. The bakery next door knows me, as well as the convenience store on the other side of the bakery. I love the little park on the other side of the Hostafrancs stop to sit and read. There's no other place in the city I'd rather live. I mean, I walk past a giant fountain and the gorgeous walk up Montjuïc on my way to class everyday, and around the Bullring. I can see both hills from around the corner! And I live at a metro transfer station, so I have easy access to almost everything. I love it!

Minus Ryan, sorry!

2. "The six of us"
      In no particular order: Olivia, Elena, Gabby, Lynzee, and Ryan. These five people have been my best friends throughout this trip, and in a way like my family. We bicker and fight, but everything always turns out just fine. I seriously cannot imagine my experience in Barcelona without them. So, to my friends: Thank you. Thanks for letting me crash on your couch, for letting me drink your wine, for being there when I need to vent, and for being the fun and wonderful people that I get to spend all of my time with! I love you all so much, and can't imagine what real school is going to feel like without you.

Mamá y Papá

1. The one, the only: Carmen.
     For anyone who's been reading my blog, this comes as no surprise whatsoever. Carmen is my mamá, and I love her like crazy. She never judges me, always takes care of me, and really cares about me. She's been the most phenomenal host mom I could ever have hoped for. Carmen is the best. Whenever I come, she always asks me if I've eaten. We laugh and joke and talk about everything under the sun. She gives wonderful hugs, makes the most delicious food, and the best coffee. When I go back, I know she'll be the first person I miss. I'm going to write letters as much as I possibly can, and skype when David lets her borrow the computer. I love the whole family. Suso is hysterical, Jesús is my best friend, David is the brother I never had, Vanessa is feisty and fearless, María is super funny and always pushing the limits, and Elena is my tall twin and the most gracious girl I've ever met. I've only met Rebecca via Skype, but even she is fantastic. This is my family. We may not be blood, but the love and connection is stronger with them than some people I'm actually related to. I love and adore them, and they will always be a part of my life, and always be in my heart.


I'll miss you Barcelona. You're my home, and like the spark of life in my body. I feel more electricity in this city than anywhere else in the world. Te quiero, la rosa de fuego. 

I Went to Africa

Yeah. I went to Africa. It still doesn't quite feel like I really did it. Maybe I've been studying too much Dalí, but the whole experience feels like some fantastical dream that I can't quite pinpoint. Specific events and activities fit very well in my memories. However, there's all of this road travel, sunsets, buildings, and mountains that just swirl around in my head without finding their own resting compartment in my head. Okay, I really do need to take a break from Dalí...after I finish that paper.

So much blue!

One of the coolest things about traveling to Africa from southern Spain is taking the boat across the Straits of Gibraltar. It was sunny, fairly warm, and Thanksgiving Day. This day did not feel like Thanksgiving even a little bit, other than the fact that I was very very thankful to be warm. (Spain gets cold) It was an incredibly long day of traveling, but it was completely worth it to take the boat over. You get to see how incredibly close these two continents are to each other, yet how they encompass such different cultures, ideals, and lifestyles. Also, who doesn't love pretending to be Kate Winslet on the deck of a boat?

So we arrived in Tangiers all safe, cuddly, warm, and white. Very white. I have never felt like a minority more than I did that day in Tangiers. There were 14 of us, with cameras, Western clothing, and me with my blonder-than-Marilyn hair. I felt like I had three heads. And although we stuck out like sore thumbs, and certain people were portraying the "American Stereotype" like they were going for the Oscar, I felt so welcomed into that country. From my limited experience, the Moroccan people were genuinely some of the kindest, most hospitable (besides my Carmen, of course), and curious people I've ever met in my life. The waiters and waitresses were incredibly nice wherever we went. (And let me tell you, that is not usually the case in certain parts of Europe.) The family that I stayed with, along with Olivia & Lynzee, were super sweet and accommodating. All the way down to the little kids in the street. Which brings me to the Penis Story. (Don't worry, this is perfectly appropriate, I just have a sense of humor like a 12 year old boy.)

Penis/Pinez

This story starts way back in Barcelona, when my purse got snagged on a doorknob and ripped a little bit. That happened about a month and a half ago. During this time, my purse had slowly been getting worse and worse, to the point where it's really just barely hanging on anymore. So, to avoid my bag ripping any further while I was trekking across Morocco, I was hoping to find a safety pin to fix it. (are the pieces coming together now?) That picture up there, THAT, my friends is a pinez. Pronounced, in Arabic, like penis. Because the world is weird, and people make up languages with funny sounds. So I went around the stores asking the workers if they had a pinez, with my Spanish, English, veeeeery limited French, and about 4 or 5 Arabic words. One of those words being penis. While the first store owner laughed at me, probably because he spoke a little English, and the second store owner just looked really confused, I had the best experience in the third store.

It was this little clothing alteration place with just a woman and her 8 year old daughter working in there. I showed them my purse that was falling apart, and desperately tried to communicate using hand signals and four languages between us. The desk where she was working had a huge jar of very small safety pins. What I expected was that she would give me one or two, and I would give her a few dirham (local currency) in exchange. Instead, the woman asked to see my purse, and set to work with the safety pins. She tried several different times to put the safety pins in to hold it together, but the weight of my purse made it so that they always popped open. From what I gathered, she wanted to sew it up for me, but I had an activity to get to. I left in a hurry and thanked her as much as I possibly could. As I'm leaving the store, her daughter runs after me and asks me to wait. She pantomimes that I can sew it up if I have some thread, and enthusiastically tries to show me how. As much as I tried, I couldn't figure out how to tell her that I didn't bring my sewing kit, so I thanked this tiny, smart girl as much as I could, and left to join my group. Out of my ridiculous journey to find a pinez, I found these incredible Moroccan women that were willing to do whatever they could to help me. It warmed my heart, and I'll never forget the look on that little girl's face as she helped her mother try to fix my bag. 

So much more happened in Morocco. I went to the hamam (the traditional bath house), rode a camel, hiked around the mountains, and ate amazing food. And while I could tell you about all the "neat" things I did, I'd rather tell you about the people. This Arab, Muslim, North African nation of people who live, eat, work, go to church (or not), have families, play, laugh, and enjoy their time just like people in the States. I was able to sit in a room with 4 Muslim men, all with differing views on the religious text, and all with different views on how religion affects their lives. Nothing they said ever offended me, rather it was the words of some of the other students in our group that rubbed me the wrong way. I made friends with a few people while I was there, that I still plan on keeping via Facebook. I learned a little bit of what life is like in rural Morocco, what it's like to be a woman in this society, what it looks like to live a day there. I wouldn't trade this experience for anything. And I don't regret that I didn't see the touristy things, because that's not what traveling is always about. It has so much more weight when you meet the people where they are, and try to see the world through their eyes.

Sorry to get so serious. Well, no, actually, I'm not. Because this trip was really special to me. And someday, I'm going to go back. I'll visit Rabat and see my host family, and watch a sunset from the rooftop terrace in Chefchaouen and think about the amazing memories behind me, and the amazing journey ahead of me. 

London On My Mind

Home! Home!

Add caption

Sorry, had a bit of a Mel Brooks moment. As you may have seen from my many Facebook mobile uploads, I recently returned from London, England. After years and years of wanting to go to London (my senior year, my locker was decorated in pictures of ONLY British things. I think I was probably the only high school girl to have pictures of Dickens and Shakespeare pinned up) I finally made it! And it wasn't only the fact that I went to London...I also went completely and totally alone.

Sitting on Sherlock's couch

I took some wise advice from Pinterest, and did something I was afraid of. Traveling is something I love to do, but I've always been nervous of going alone. But like my girl Blanche, I've always depended on the kindness of strangers. And this time, in this particular country, it really paid off. I met a woman in the Barcelona airport on the way there that happened to be a London tour guide, and a Londoner for the past 10 years. She gave me the low down on what to hit, what to avoid, and even which bus to take to get to my hostel. (Thank you, by the way, if you ever stumble across this blog!) Because of the kindness of the people in London, my trip was a smashing success, and I'd love to share the highlights with you!

My first night in, I got to the hostel at about 1:30 in the morning. The cabby dropped me off and said, "This is a bit Harry Potter, isn't it?" Which I thought was kind of a creepy thing to say anyway, but I laughed and gave him his money. As I'm dragging my bag out behind me he yells, "Have fun at Hogwarts!!" Best introduction to London, ever. I got pretty much settled in, but I didn't really sleep very well. I woke up before my alarm at about 7 in the morning, and started to get ready for my first day. I had breakfast at the hostel, and the local chimney sweep sat down and talked with me. Not as cute as Dick Van Dyke, but entertaining nonetheless. Thus far, I hadn't really experienced London yet, but had met some wonderful people. 

Palmer's Lodge Swiss Cottage (I recommend it)

So on my first excursion, I walked down to Abbey Road, just a few blocks away. And I took a picture with the street sign since there was nobody to take my picture crossing the street. Oh well. Directly after that was my trip to 221B Baker Street. Which made me so excited I about peed myself. I bought a pipe! I sat in Sherlock's chair, saw Mrs. Hudson's room (much neater) and geeked out about the bulletin board (see picture A). If you haven't seen the new Sherlock BBC television series, stop reading this blog and go watch it now. I'll wait.

Picture A

Such a sad ending, right!? Goodness Steven Moffat, stop playing with my emotions. Anywho, whilst at the Sherlock museum, I asked a girl who worked there where her favorite place in London was. Her face lit up when she said Covent Garden. She gushed about how lovely it is with all the Christmas decorations. So I took the tube over there and wandered around until I found a little restaurant and an open window seat. I had the best hot chocolate with whipped cream, and watched a string quartet play while journaling. It was absolutely fantastic and gorgeous. I bopped around the shops for a while and continued on my journey.

Cafe Chutney is where I had the HoCho 

From that point on that day, I just wandered pretty much aimlessly around the city. I stumbled across Big Ben just as the bell was chiming (got a little teary eyed), saw Westminister Abbey, saw LOTS of red buses and phone booths. My favorite thing I stumbled past was this big iron gate. I saw the London eye from afar, and wanted to get closer, so I tried to go through a gate. The security guard asked me where I was trying to go. I replied that I didn't know, I just wanted to go that way. He chuckled and told me, "This is the back of Downing Street, love. If you want, you can go through that gate (over there) and see the front of Downing, but I can't let you through here." I accidentally tried to get into 10 Downing Street, where the Prime Minister lives and works. I did almost the same thing with Buckingham Palace. Except I didn't try to go in, I just had no clue that it was Buckingham (it's not as pretty in real life).

The gate's nicer than the façade of the building

I walked as long and hard as I could, and saw all I could possibly see. I finally gave up when I was trying to find the Globe Theatre, and even the local people around didn't know what I was talking about. So I went back to the hostel, and met a friend! Tatia, (I think...) had the bed below mine, and was alone as well. So when she went out to meet with her Brazilian friends, I tagged along and met some cool people. Although, since most of them were speaking Portuguese I tried to speak Spanish back to them, until I found a few that spoke English really well. A plate of fish and chips and a Kopparberg later, I was ready for sleep.

The second day was planned to the T, and I have four maps with arrows on them to prove it. I got up at 7am to explore the city. I went down to Tower of London first, and saw the crown jewels and all the cool historical stuff. Audio guides still annoy me, and museums are awkward when you're by yourself, but it was still really interesting. The thing that I don't understand about the crown jewels is why there are so many plates. Nobody has ever eaten off of them, and they serve no purpose. At least make something interesting...like a gold chinchilla, or shoes.  Anyway, Tower of London was beautiful and I did enjoy it, even though it was crazy expensive. I continued along the south of the Thames to Tower Bridge, where I found a clue!

A clue!!

There were tracks of Blues Clues that led down a set of stairs. Unfortunately I did not follow them down, but I did have a couple run into me, because I stopped dead in my tracks to take this picture. Priorities, people!!   I was on my way to the Globe after that, but it took a while. If you ever travel to London, and plan on seeing the Globe, take the Millenium Bridge across the Thames, because that seems to be the most logical way to do it. Only by the grace of God did I actually make it to the Globe. There were sketchy places that I had to go through to get there. However, completely and totally worth it to go! I took the tour, with a guide who was very entertaining and informative. I learned more about the first Globe, and Shakespeare than I thought I would. (I really like Shakespeare) And if K. Marshall wants any of my awesome-sauce pictures, she's more than welcome to hit me up :-)

Globe 3.0

For a geeky girl like me, it was absolutely incredible to see the inside of the theatre. Although I didn't get to see a show (the season runs in the summer, since it's an outdoor theatre) I still felt closer to the bard, and was definitely inspired. But enough about my love affair, there's more to see!

I had way more time than I thought I would after seeing those two things, so I headed all the way over to the west side of the city to try to find a TARDIS, but to no avail. I found a Cinnabon (which, I know, doesn't sound important enough to put in the blog. But seriously, it's been a really long time since I'd had one, and it was delightful.) I meandered a while to kill some time before I went to see the show. I bought tickets for The Mousetrap, and it was some of the best money I spent in London. 60th Anniversary of the show, and I was 3 away from the 25,000th performance. It brought back great memories from doing the show at NCC, but at the same time, I had forgotten some of the back-stories of the characters, so it was still very interesting to watch. (Cast & Crew, if you're reading this: Don't worry, they weren't as good as you ;) )

It will probably close soon...

So that was my London trip! In a nutshell. I absolutely adored the city, and I fully intend to go back some day and spend more than 48 hours exploring and taking it all in.

In the next episode of "Apparently" Carlee goes to Africa. 

To Eat or Not to Eat...McDonald's edition

Okay, internal struggle time. As I was in the shower this afternoon (afternoon, not morning because my sleep schedule is all over the place. At 4 in the morning my brain went "Let's Play!!!" Stupid brain...) I smelled something delicious. Fried something. Unhealthy something. Delicious something. And honestly, it kind of smelled like McDonald's french fries. I am ashamed.

I live in one of the best countries for healthy eating. Have you ever seen an overweight Spaniard? Well, I have. But they are few and far between. Most of them are slim, sexy, and smoke like chimneys. But besides the inhaling of toxic fumes, most of these people are actually very healthy. Fresh seafood is readily available, and the fresh market is filled with faces of freshly killed animals ready to be put on your plate. Although that seems gross, it's actually quite good for you. Since there are no preservatives pumped in to the meat, they just hand it to you all bloody and gross...okay, done with the graphic terms. (But really you should go sometime. It's fun)

See? That animal fed people that day.

But today, I really, really, really want McDonald's. And I'm not proud of that. Not by a long shot. But in my defense, I have been cooped up in the house eating normal food since Wednesday night. Actually, I was sick in bed Tuesday as well, so I've been stuck in the house for quite some time. And in this duration, I've been eating maybe a meal and a half a day. That is not the fault of my host family in the slightest. My sleeping schedule is off because of my ear infection, so 2pm is breakfast now. Anyway. I've been eating pastries for "lunch" because they're rather close to my house, are really cheap, and require little to no effort to obtain. But today, today I want food.

So I looked up the nearest McDonald's which happens to be in my neighborhood! (Yay Sants!) It's just a few blocks up from the street around the corner. (This is why I suck at directions. Did you read that? Did you understand it? I sure as hell didn't) Walking distance. To delicious fried food. *yay!*

But here's the funny thing: Reviews from Spanish people about McDonald's. They hate it, and it's really amusing. I'll translate some of my favorites for you:

1. Who would eat this garbage?

2. Fast and bad, you can eat it, but it's not good for you.

3. ONLY if you need something to eat quickly.

4. It would not be good for your health, but it is rich in saturated fats.

I'm not kidding. This is what Spanish people think of McDonald's. And it's wonderful. So, I'm going to go grab a McWhatzit and eat some terrible food. :-) And I'm okay with that.  

*Note* This has been edited to have correct comma usage and so-on. Also, I did not actually make it to a McDonald's today. I did however, eat at a Pans & Company, which is also fast food, but the menu is in Catalan. FTW

Statistics

Soooo, it's been brought to my attention that people are actually reading my blog. Which I never really anticipated outside of my dad and my sister. (Mom's still figuring out the internet.) But as I was looking at my stats earlier today, I was pleasantly surprised. I've had almost 850 pageviews, which seems pretty excessive. AND, this is the exciting part for me, people in 6 different countries have read my blog. I mean, the United States and Spain make sense, because I've ...lived in those places. Here are the specific stats from today:

1. United States (of course)
2. Germany (I don't speak German, aside from "mein hund steht in flammen"* nor do I know any Germans well enough for them to follow my blog. So that's curious)
3. Spain (This makes more sense, since I do have American friends here that have told me they read my blog. Thanks for the support all you SAE people!)
4. France (While I do not speak French, nor do I really know any French people besides my step-dad's cousin's wife and therefore half of their son as well I suppose, this makes sense. My former roommate, Maggie is living in Avignon, France. This is her blog bonjourdearmaggie.blogspot.com)
5. Ireland (I give this one to Maci and Kelsey)
6. Russia (RUSSIA?! I'm so confused. I know of no one who lives in Russia. The languages I speak are nowhere close to Russian. Why are Russian people reading my blog?)

My readership (that sounds way too fancy)

After all of this, I just have to ask you a few questions, dear reader.
First of all, hi. I'm very glad that you're wasting your time to read my pointless blog. (actually I have another one that's supposed to be the pointless one, but that's besides the point. ha. points.)
Second of all, where are you from? If I don't know you personally, then feel free to say in my comment box where you're from because that would be cool for me!
Third of all, if I don't know you....why are you here? I mean this in the least rude sentiment. But after a few months of being in Spain, you really learn how to be direct with people.

So I actually intended on writing about Spanish food in this blog, but stats just kind of....took over. I promise this will not happen often. I just find these little internet-y things quite interesting. And I will write more often. Especially if I'm sick, because, downtime. Bye-bye grammar. So thanks for reading, and I hope I didn't scare any newcomers! Bye!!!!

*my knowledge of German is accredited to Olivia Tarplin

Close your eyes and I'll kiss you, tomorrow I'll miss you...

Liverpool, England. The most wonderful place for a lifetime Beatles fan to go. It was very cold, very rainy, but absolutely perfect. It's exactly like I pictured it to be, but better. Am I gushing?

I got into Liverpool last Friday, and I walked off the plane wearing the sandals that had been perfectly comfortable in Spain. Let me tell you, sandals in Liverpool in October are generally not a great idea. But my wonderful friends, Maci and Kelsey from NCC, and my new friend Carly picked me up from the John Lennon Airport. (Which has the tagline of "Above us only sky" how quaint!) After changing shoes, and dropping my bags, we hit the City Centre! The centre was really cool, although the architecture in Spain is better... *cough* But one thing they have downtown Liverpool that we are missing in Barcelona, is donuts. Seriously the best donuts I've ever had in my life, four donuts for a pound fifty. Pretty much heaven. We also hit a restaurant for lunch that had amazing burgers. I haven't had a burger that good since I left the states. Do I talk about food this much in normal conversation? Anyway, they also had fantastic cider that tasted like Christmas. Thank you, Frank, for the recommendation, it was delightful. After having a great lunch with new and old friends, and buying some thicker socks from the Primark, I was reunited, dramatically and romantically, with Jessica Coffey. (You can follow her *delightful* blog here: http://jcoffeyblog.wordpress.com/)  My weekend was nothing short of incredible. It was so nice to be back with someone that knows me well. And does she know me... I think her flatmates were a little frightened of our love affair. But it was great! The four of us girls went on a much needed grocery store run, and I got some Cadbury chocolate and Earl Grey tea. When in England...gorge yourself as the English do.

The nightclub we hit the first night was much like the clubs in Barcelona, lots of scantily clad youth jiving to American music. It was great to hang out with everyone though, and I didn't have to be nearly as careful with my stuff as I do in Spain (I actually took both hands off of my purse to dance! Although I still checked to make sure it was there every 30 seconds or so.) But the nightclub to end all nightclubs was Saturday night. At the Cavern Club.

Jess and I at the Cavern Club

Four slackers in leather jackets

   Seriously, I have no idea how the Beatles wore leather jackets in that club. I was wearing a tank top and about to sweat to death...it was ridiculous. Now mostly it was old people dancing with their spouses, which was very cute. But it was also a strange form of karaoke night. The cover band played Beatles songs from the early years (which is to be expected) and they also played background for people to come up and sing karaoke. So strange...but really entertaining to watch. I did not participate, because I was still sober and sane. But I had a scotch and coke, which is what the Beatles used to drink at the Cavern, so I'd say it was a pretty holistic experience. I also managed to make it to the following famous places:

Albert Dock

Penny Lane 

The abandoned Sgt. Pepper's 

 So I saw some pretty awesome places that were important to the Beatles, and therefore important to me. But that's not even the best part about Liverpool. (Gusher warning) Even through all of the cold and the rain, I've never been to a town where the people are so open and friendly. I feel like I could be invited to dinner with any person I strike up a conversation with. The streets are covered with leaves, and it smells like home. (Sorry Barcelona, but you kind of stink.) It's just the most incredible town that has all of the city aspects that I love, and the small town feel on the outside. Jessica and I were talking about how we feel like we have a deeper understanding of the Beatles' music after having walked around Liverpool. It's a cold that is almost comforting. You know that you'll get out of it soon enough, and you can warm up with a cup of tea in a few minutes. Even though I currently have a cold and an ear infection from the English rain, I don't regret going in the slightest. The people I met in one short weekend will have a spot in my heart forever. I have no doubt in my mind that one day I will live in Liverpool. And maybe, just maybe, Jess and I will share a cozy little flat in Aigburth Park.

Granadas in Granada

Hello Mudda, Hello Fadda...

I spent the weekend in Granada, Andalusia. And for all you sober people back in the states, that's in the south.  It is an absolutely gorgeous, albeit wet, city. It rained nearly the entire weekend, and even with that, I still loved the city.

We started off our Friday much earlier than most of us would have preferred. 7 am flights entail waking up at 4:30, then being groggy and hungry the rest of the day. We hit up a cathedral or two in the morning, and had a menú del día (traditional Spanish lunch, 3 courses and you choose from a select few for the day. Usually a pretty good deal). I tried gazpacho twice this weekend, just to make sure I really didn't like it. I really don't. Something about soup is just supposed to be hot. I don't do cold food well. Like meat? I can't eat it if it isn't hot... I try. Then my body tells me to stop, for the love of God, stop. So I do. ANYWAY....

We went to Arab baths, and had Arab tea. I like Arabs, they think of the best things. There were 7 Arab baths all at different temperatures ranging from colder-than-Antarctica to Am-I-in-hell? And it was absolutely delightful. In a room next door there were pots of Arab tea. The tea is mint and honey served piping hot. I may have bought some while I was there... But! To finish off my lovely spa-time, I had a massage that left me knot-less, oily, and completely tranquil. I highly recommend Granada to anyone looking for a cheap honeymoon. It was much less expensive than Barcelona, and has a more intimate feel to the city.

And to top it all off, the Alhambra. Contested to be one of the new 7 wonders of the world, the Alhambra is a beautiful palace atop the hills of Granada. (Do I sound like a travel book yet?) If you really want to see what I think of it, just look at my most recent photos in my Mobile Uploads album on Facebook...I took at least 200  pictures this weekend. It's fantastic.

I will have been here officially 2 months on the 30th. I will write a post that day to reflect on the best 60(ish) days of my life. Love you all! Besos <3

Ode To Carmen

I have the best homestay in Spain. No, really. I'm pretty positive.

Because I'm the only person in a homestay at my huge school, I don't get to talk to other students about homestay experiences very often. However, whenever the rest of the program joins up with us, I get to have really interesting conversations about living with a Spanish family. There are certain people that say, "I don't get to eat dinner with the rest of the family" or "My señora and I don't really talk." For some reason, all of the stars aligned and I got the most wonderful family to live with.

I'm not saying they're perfect, I'm not saying that the boys don't drive me crazy from time to time, but what I am saying is that I have a family. I have a mom and a dad who love and care for me. I have two brothers that I argue with and steal the remote from. I have people who will go to the metro station to beat up the machine that stole my money. I have familiar faces that welcome me home from my trips. When I open the door, I can unwind, flop on the couch and talk about how I hate the pluscuamperfecto. (which I do) But the heart and soul of my house, is Carmen.

My wonderful, incredible señora...nay, mi mamá. I love her, and she loves me, and we have a great relationship. She is never afraid to say what she thinks, which is always comical. One night when I tried to wear my high heels out, she told me to go change because men don't want to marry a tower. And as soon as I changed she told me I was beautiful and sent me on my way. Not only can this woman cook, but she feeds me to the point where I nearly explode, and with really good food. She justifies this by saying, "sometimes you eat very little, so when you're at home, I will make sure I balance that out." She is the kindest, sweetest, and most honest woman I've ever met in my life.

Over this week, Carmen went to visit her daughter in London with her other daughter (the twins' birthday was this week) and I was left in the house with Jesús and David. Which I don't mind in the slightest. The boys are great...but they are ridiculous. I love them as much as I could love a brother, if I ever had one. But the second I saw Carmen's face back home today, everything got better. She brings such a warmth and happiness with her, that you can't help but smile. She gave me a ginormous hug and we talked about her trip, and everything was back to wonderful. And to top it all off, she bought me a present in London, a magnet with the Union Jack and Big Ben :) She's so incredibly sweet, and I love her so much.

 

I know that's a lot of love for one blog post, but what can I say? I love my family and they make my life here complete.

You Got Me Begging You For Mercè

¡Hola de nuevo de Barcelona!

Again, I apologize for taking so long to put up a new blog post. I spend most of my time enjoying the city, and fewer hours on the computer. (But I do always make time for Facebook...) Anyway, last week was the festival for La Mercè, the patron saint of Barcelona. Because of that, I had an incredible five day weekend filled with Catalunyan fun! As we go along today I will give a bit of a history and culture lesson. Which is surprisingly fun! Ready set go!!

Mercè kicked off on Thursday night, and so did I. A good night out with friends is always a fun time. Especially when you can practice your Spanish. Or meet people from England. It's all fun. However, I really started to enjoy Mercè on Friday afternoon when my friend Ryan and I went to Ciutadella. There was karaoke, open mic style, that the kids were singing along to (the songs being old Johnny Cash tunes) and then older couples dancing to the music nearby. Very interesting experience, but hey, a party's a party. I also meandered accidentally into a wine festival. But don't worry, I did not have the funds to take part. But, here is a picture of me at the festival at the 3 Dragon Castle. Woohoo!

The first activity of my Friday night was to hit the town with my airplane buddy, Sarah. We went to one of my favorite places in Barcelona, called L'Ovella Negra (The Black Sheep) for the best sangria in the city. Plus, with this as the logo, how can I not love it here? After our favorite beverage, and making some new friends, we hit one of the many concerts in the area. I have no idea who the band were, but they were a bunch of old British rockers, so who am I to complain? And the concert was in the middle of the Plaça Real, which is gorgeous at anytime of the day or night.

Saturday was the biggest Mercè day for me, though. In the morning I ran down to Plaza de St. Jaume to watch the Castells (Human Towers) It's a Catalan tradition, and a big competition. I got to watch some of the teams put on their black sashes, which are actually used to support their backs, and to give a foothold for those climbing up. Here's one of my favorite pictures from the event.

Although the main focus isn't really the Castell, this is my favorite part. The kids that are too small to see will sit on their mom's or dad's shoulders, creating their own mini castell. I thought that was pretty darn cool. Oh, by the way, the people at the top of the castell are usually 5-7 years old. I would have been too petrified to even try that. 

After my watching the towers, I headed back home for some wonderful homemade paella by Carmen. Just look at this beauty...

Being completely and totally stuffed, I took a bit of a siesta before doing more of the festivities of la Mercè. The next thing on the list was the beautiful and dangerous Correfoc. This translates to Fire Run. What happens, is people dress up like devils, or they just completely cover themselves so that they don't get burnt. There are dragons and other beasts that are carried around that shoot out sparks, and other devices that are carried to throw sparks all over the streets. While it looks very pretty from afar, it gets pretty intense close up. I did not run in the street, but I was watching from the sidewalk...which is dangerous in and of itself. I had climbed up on the ledge of a window, and held onto the bars to watch the parade come in. By the time it reached me, the crowd had managed to leave no space for me to hop back down as the sparks were flying right at me. If nothing else, it was an adrenaline rush trying to get down so that I didn't catch on fire... After a while, I just went into the bar, grabbed a beer, and watched safely from the window. 

Scary, right? It was pretty darn cool. To finish off the night, we walked to the Barceloneta to watch some fireworks. After that we sat on the beach for an hour or so, just chatting on the sand and enjoying the beautiful weather. There also happened to be a carnival nearby, so some of our group rode a pretty frightening looking carnival ride, with the soundtrack of Ryan giggling like a little kid the whole time. And even after the carnival, the fun did not stop. We found a little street party with a live band. Soooo, we danced for another 45 minutes before the band started packing up for the night. The band was called Odisea, and they played Spanish stuff, and American "classics." They were amazing, and we had a great time. 

Weekends in Barcelona are so dull. 

My Ginormous Big Huge School

I apologize. It's been ten days since my last post. It's really terrible of me to be living here and not spend every moment on my computer. It's my fault. I could say I'll change, but that's just not very likely to happen.

So I realized that I still haven't told a lot of you much about my new school, that I've attended for three weeks now. I've had a whole whopping 9 days of class and haven't told you about it yet! How awful.

Here's the down low. I go to Barcelona International College or BIC. It is located on Calle Diputación just a few blocks away from the Arenas of Barcelona. Pictures!

This is the balcony at school. We try to avoid it at rush hour...as not to get trampled by other international students. 

And this is the entrance into my school. It's very Men in Black. And no, I don't know that girl. 

My school, BIC, is actually housed with a huge language school called Enforex. They are very highly regarded in the language learning community. I do not go there, but I do use their language books. (Actually, that's not even true. I have a couple of their books but I have yet to open them.)

There are 5 other students besides myself who attend BIC. Elena, Gabrieal, Lynzee, Olivia, and Ryan (In alphabetical order) The rest of them all live in the same apartment complex just a couple of blocks away from my homestay. Because of this, we all see each other more than my mother and I saw each other when I lived in her house. And we all have class together!!! Wooo family time :-) But really, they are wonderful and I can't imagine life in Barcelona without the crazy kids.

I am currently taking three classes for twelve credits. Which is the easiest term I've had...since I started college. It's a nice little breather from the chaos that is North Central College. My first class, "Great Artists of the 20th Century: Dalí, Picasso, and Miró" is really interesting. I get to go to the Picasso museum next week here in Barcelona. I get to walk around the city where he used to live! And the other day I saw a five year old kid wearing a tee shirt with Dalí's mustache on it. Epic. My Spanish class is 6 credits so I have it every day for an hour and forty minutes...or something like that. I had the best professor in the world for a very short 3 weeks, and now she is moving on to bigger and better things. I'm talking about you, Verónica. But that's okay, because now we can go out and have coffee and talk about men. And my final class is taught by a magnificently intelligent, and incredibly humble Fulbright scholar. My civilization and culture class is incredibly interesting and we talk about all different facets of the history of the nation, and the relations between Catalunya and the rest of Spain. (If you don't know about the movement for Catalunyan independence, go read BBC news online or something like that.) But in short, my classes are great, and I have some marvelous professors that I wish I could take back to the states with me. But since that isn't likely to happen, I'll just have to relish in the moments I have with them. 

To top it off, we have some of the best program directors ever. Rich, the guy in charge, is actually from the Chicago suburbs. Which is wonderful for me to be able to talk about Portillos, Emmanuel, and Lou Malnati's being better than Giordanos. Elizabeth, the intern who is ever sweet but secretly snarky. Laura, full of information and Spanish blood. Elena, coordinator of all things awesome. And Graham, skater dude/paparazzi who may or may not actually work there. 

I'm pretty much in love with my school and all of the people there. So thank you again to all of the people who got me here, whether it be a monetary donation, prayers, or encouragement. It means a lot to me to have people who love me enough to let me go across the world with the risk that I may never come back ;-) Just kidding, I'll come back when Roz has her first child. 

In Serious Need of a Siesta

Living in Barcelona has been such a wonderful thing for my body. And there are many reasons for that. In my classic 5 paragraph essay, taught to me by such wonderful English teachers as Mrs. Hansen, Mrs. Hendricks, and Mr. Michael. These are the top three reasons that living in Barcelona will make you super healthy and awesome.

First, walking all over God's half-acre. (I always thought God was rich enough to afford more than half an acre, if not, where is all my money going when I put it in the shiny plate?) People here in the city walk a whole freaking lot. It's hard to drive around here since most of the streets are one way and about 2 feet wide. Also it's very expensive to own and park a car in the city. Therefore a lot of people walk, or take public transit. Or if you're super hot, you have a motorcycle. Which you can then drive on the street, on sidewalks, or any place with concrete. Which is super fun to play Frogger with when you're walking (bonus points: walking gives you the opportunity to dodge traffic, which burns extra calories). For the most part, I walk everywhere. To class, school, and my friends' apartment. Even when public transit is an option, you still have to walk a decent portion to get to where you're going. Therefore!! Buns of steel.

My next point, the food here is *droooooolll........* super good. All of the fruits and vegetables and seafood are very very fresh. There's an open air market just a block from my apartment, and all of the food there is fresh daily. You can get all sorts of seafood, ham (they really love ham here), and fresh produce. It is incredible. It also will not bankrupt you. If you know the right places to go to, usually looking a bit seedy, you can get food half as cheap as in the states. One of my favorite things to eat as a meal here costs next to nothing and is not that unhealthy. Pan con tomate is exactly like it sounds. I eat a skillet in tomato sauce. Just kidding... Pan con tomate is toasted bread rubbed with garlic, with tomato guts spread on top, and a little bit of olive oil. Some people put salt on theirs; I like it without. But my point being, the food here is so much fresher than I've ever had before. Because of that, it tastes amazing.

Reason number 3: Siestas. The whole siesta thing could get a post in and of itself. But I'm kind of tired, and I'll probably take a siesta after writing this post. I feel so much more relaxed and rested here, because of siestas. Technically, the siesta is from 2-4 pm. But that isn't always the case. For many of my classmates and I, we like to take our siesta from 6-8 ish which is right after school but before dinner. The siesta gives you just enough motivation to get through the rest of the day and to put a goofy smile on your face. It is the glue that holds Spain together: nap time with your stuffed bear (or in my case, frog). But my body always feels much better after an hour or two asleep with the window wide open

In Conclusion, Spain is good for your heath. Come visit me, and you are guaranteed to lose 15 kilograms! (I have no idea how much a kilo is compared to a pound) My legs already feel stronger from living on the 4th floor and being scared of the very tiny elevator. My stomach is only taking very small portions at this time. My skin is stress free and glowing. My arms are tan and smooth from the beaches. And my hair is a rusty shade of blonde for reasons that have nothing to do with Spain.

I love you all! Thanks for reading :-)
Besos!

Well You've Never Been to Spain (but you've probably heard the music)

Hola de Catalunya!

Let me preface this with one fact. I love Barcelona more than any city I've ever been to. And the Catalunyans are the best people around. But seriously, if I hear Call Me Maybe one more time here, I'm going to shake the nearest Spaniard and demand an answer to why they listen to this crap.

American music is running rampant throughout the world. I think it's an epidemic. We have to listen to it in the states all the time, in the grocery stores, pumping through the nearest Hollister, and even out of the mouths of children. And while I do love my home country, the top 40 stuff is really awful the majority of the time. For some reason the Spanish people are fascinated with American culture. My host brothers, Jesús and David, love Jersey Shore. I think that's the worst show that was ever invented, but don't mind me. The worst part is, I was talking to David about why he liked the show, and he told me that it's because Jersey Shore is American. Really American. That's what they do all the time. *cough* Ahem? I tried arguing that Jersey Shore is not even close to what we college-aged Americans do with our spare time, but to no avail.

So this post is somewhat of an urge to American people to watch what we're watching. What we find entertaining will then become popular throughout the world. For goodness sake, I heard Call Me Maybe after the final Barca chant at the end of the game on Sunday night. Talk about ruining a moment. And I know I sound terribly pretentious, but it's my blog, so...yeah. Anywho.

Back on the subject of music, I heard amazing Spanish music yesterday. We were walking around the Cathedral in the gothic quarter, and a small accoustic band was playing in a tiny little placa. Looking at all of the old, ancient architecture and hearing traditional, beautiful Spanish music gave me chills. I wish the people knew how amazing they are and that they don't need our crappy American pop culture to be cool. Spain is too cool for us anyway.

Ciao!
(p.s. Check out this video to see kind of what I'm doing here)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XHG6e3P4eQ8

Living on the 3rd floor (But not really)

Hola amigos!

I am getting used to how things are here in Spain. But the only thing so far that reeeeaally bugs me, are the floors. Not the tiles or wood, but the way they number them. For example, my family (close 5 friends from BIC) live in an apartment by Parque de Joan Miro. When you first come in, there are stairs up to a floor. That floor has utilities. Then there is another staircase up, which leads to...the first floor. So in America, that would be floor #3. But not for my family...and me since I'm at their place every day so far. In my homestay apartment there is only one fake first floor. But I don't like the teeny tiny elevator, and I'd like to get in shape, so I take the stairs. To the fourth floor. You Clintonians know, that's more floors than most buildings in town have. It's far more than I'm used to, and frankly I feel like they're just lying to themselves.

But other than that, I've had my first icky experience today. All of my food up to this point has been phenomenal. I love the Mediterranean flavors and freshness. Today, things got a little too fresh. We went on a hike in Tarragona, and it was absolutely perfect, beautiful weather and everything. After all our walking we stopped to eat at a little restaurant. I decided that it was time to live on the edge and try some new things! So I went for some mussels for my first course and swordfish for my second. Now mussels, if you've never had them, are really good if you can get over the texture. With lemon, son perfectos! However, my swordfish came a bit afterwards. I thought I would be pretty BA eating something that has a knife on its face. But I took two bites, and I really couldn't stomach anything more. So I set my plate aside and ate more bread with olive oil. We talked about my picky food habits, and left the subject of the fish for a while. Later someone else asked if they could try my fish, and I said claro! Of course! When she cut into the fish, she saw how absolutely raw it was. Only the very top and bottom were cooked, and I never eat fish, so I didn't know. A lot of other people had ordered it too, and all of theirs were completely cooked. Except mine. And I almost threw up.

But, alas, I have kept it all down. That was like 5 hours ago. Now I am taking some homeopathic Chinese medicine from my friend, and lying down for a siesta. Everyone needs a break from vacation once in a while.

Things you learn on Facebook

I'm here!!! I'm really tired. I'm waiting for my phone to charge from my laptop so that I can turn it off and go to sleep. I have new friends! They're American too. My mom is nice...she taught me how to open the door and make coffee. I haven't slept in something like 40 hours. Am I still coherent? Depends on what your native language is. People here, at least the 3 I've talked to have told me my Spanish is very good. Maybe that's just in comparison to other Americans they've met. Do I always get this pretentious when I'm tired? I don't know, ask Megan Ingram for that one. Do you know what tastes good? Spanish coffee. It's strooooong. Thank God that the Spaniards use very little water when makin their cup'o joe! And nobody would ever say that. The ramblings (de las ramblas!) should be over soon, since my phone is at 15% and I only need it to last long enough to wake me up in the morning. My mom bought me fruit. And some of it I've never even heard of, but it's tasty! I think that I should maybe probably turn out the lights and do some zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Layover, Eh?

Well, here I am in Toronto with some time to kill. If I weren't in the airport I may go visit some cousins...(That would be you, Rodney and Cerita!) or go to Casa Loma. I hear they make movies there. But instead I am sitting here by gate E68, with my new friend Sarah! Say hello to Sarah...

Which just goes to show that I have the amazing ability to make friends absolutely anywhere. We happen to be going to Barcelona, both to study! Awesome, right? So now I have a buddy to get me through the remainder of my journey.

The first flight went absolutely splendidly. Smooth flight, only an hour long, and I ended up in Canada!! I now have my first stamp in my passport. And it's true, Canadians are much friendlier, at least as far as security and customs go. The American TSA woman about bit my head off when I forgot to take my laptop out of my carry on. Woops...  As far as the in-flight entertainment goes, watching Parks and Rec while listening to music on my iPod isn't the worst. At least it wasn't rejected NBC pilots. To top it off, my flight got in 1 minute early! Huzzah! (That's for you, ScottJones)

The only downside is that my flight to Barcelona is delayed an hour and forty-ish minutes. Which is actually pretty alright. I've got some extra down time to pee in a bathroom that doesn't move, and buy some magazines with Canadian dollars (which I can only assume are made from dehydrated Canadian bacon). But also to get to know my new friend a little better! So, until I get some more down time and better stories to tell, Adios! 

Less than 24 hours...

It is the day before I leave! I've been counting down so long that it's hard to believe that this time tomorrow I will be on a plane to the fabulous...Toronto. But after my layover, I'll be on my way to España! 

On a serious note, (because I am capable of such on occasion) I would like to thank everyone who has supported me in my journey to this point. My parents have emptied their pockets, and my family has been wonderful enough to give me all of my birthday cards early so that I have money when I get there. And to my fabulous friends who have yelled and screamed with me through my acceptance into the program and BIC, I love you. I am coming back, I promise.

This is what you should expect from the blog from this point on:

1. Really bad jokes. You can thank Matthew Fields for that.

2. Funny and embarrassing stories of me trying to figure out a new language and culture.

3. Some desperate pleas for Sorrento's pizza.

4. References to American pop culture...because Spaniards aren't going to get it.

5. Some general Carlee-craziness. Woohoo!

In the meantime, enjoy some John Denver, and laugh at his hair and big glasses. He's still a better artist than Rebecca Black.

So keep reading! The best is yet to come. 

Two Weeks Notice

The days are ticking down, and I'm almost at my destination! I have exactly 14 days until my plane leaves O'Hare and hops over to Toronto. (See what I did there? Hare...hop...like a bunny...anyway) This is the time when one might usually start packing. And since I am a responsible woman of the 21st century, I shall start my packing. So here it is: my packing list, with commentary.

The Somewhat Necessary

• Documents (passport, visa, plane tickets, etc.) These will allow me to get in to Spain and make sure they don't kick me out
• Money. Because chances are, I may get hungry.
• Rx. (This stands for Radioactive Xylophones.)
• Backpack. They tell me I'm going to Spain for school.  I might as well humor them.
• Gifts for my host family. I'm between Bears gear and peanut butter
• Computer w/charger. So that I can continue my lovely blog
• Camera. Photographic evidence that I ate at a cafe.
• Plug Adapters. Unfortunately plugs aren't universal yet.  
• Mattress. Just in case the one in the apartment isn't comfortable

Clothing/Shoes (Probably way more than I actually need)

• Jeans (2-3 pairs) 
• Sweaters/Hoodies (2-3) Bringing American style...or lack thereof.
• T-shirts. Classy.
• Long sleeve shirts.
• Underwear 
• Long side note: I forgot underwear on a week long trip to Colorado when I was a sophomore in high school. It was the most awkward/miserable 2 days until I could buy new ones. Never making that mistake again.
• Pajamas. And maybe bananas...
• Socks. The cute ones with llamas on them.
• Swimsuit. Although with all the nude and topless beaches, I may not even need it! (joking, family)
• One set of workout clothes. Because I'm delusional.
• Jacket. For when the temperature dips down into the fifties...
• One nice outfit for special/formal occasions. Such as movie premieres or bar mitzvahs
• Decent walking shoes. And also pretty yet impractical heels
• Flip flops (especially for showering at hostels)
• Sarong, straw hat, beach umbrella, flamenco dress

Toiletries (Because Spain Doesn't Have Stores)

• Shampoo/Conditioner. To keep my hair luscious
• Toothbrush/toothpaste. Because this isn't the UK
• Soap. 
• Deodorant. BO is unacceptable.
• Disposable razors. This is Europe after all.
• Hairbrush. Unless the grunge thing comes back.
• Nail clippers and nail file. So I can obnoxiously primp while waiting in line 
• Suntan lotion. Now I'm just rubbing it in.
• Makeup.  No one should see my real face in the morning
• Toilet. Trees.

Misc.

• Small plastic bottles for toiletries. TSA hates big bottles and they cannot lie.
• Purse. To carry my things in. Or to hit attackers with. 
• iPod. If I can find the darn thing...
• Umbrella. Ella ella  eh eh eh
• Watch. What we used before cell phones.
• Sunglasses.
• Playing Cards. For solitaire mostly.
• Journal. Which I will then select entries from to put on my blog. Gotta save the juicy stuff for my granddaughter to find years after I'm dead in a dusty old crate in the attic. 
• Thin lightweight towel. Or a Shamwow.
• Flip. Never leave home without your frog.

My Kingdom for a Visa

Applying for a visa. This sounds like a whole barrel of monkeys’ kind of fun, right? Of course not.  It was possibly the most stressful application process of my life. I mean, getting into North Central was easier and required less effort than this. (Not that I picked my school because they didn't require an essay with the application. I would never do such a thing out of laziness… Anywho!) I started looking at all of my visa requirements with plenty of time to spare. My appointment was on Friday. I opened my email on Monday. Perfectly logical! Except that they want your entire life story on a felt board like in Sunday school. Which I always thought was brilliant. They were pieces of paper that stuck without sticky things! But I digress.

The requirements to obtain a Spanish visa, which is a part of the Schengen zone (apparently according to my research), and expansive and vary greatly from one consulate to the next. So I, being completely freaked out and paranoid, decided to obtain ALL THE DOCUMENTS!!!! This, in hindsight, wasn’t a bad plan after all. I panicked at my time frame, since I was to leave for Naperville the very next day, and simultaneously inconvenienced my dear loving parents. I had my mother set up a last minute physical so that my doctor could say that I am “Physically and mentally well and able to travel” which is only about half true. I also had to have my father go to the bank to get a money order, and to the post office so that they could notarize a statement saying that he will give me $1000 a month to live in Spain (Best piece of paper that I have ever owned!).  All in less than 24 hours notice. Did I get all of this done in time? Yes. Did it make my mother have a spaz attack? Pretty much. Did I need all of those documents? Nope.

This is the beauteous part of the Spanish consulate. They say you need all of these things…4 passport photos, bank statements, color copies of every piece of paper in your filing cabinet. But really all they want is your forms and your money. I gave the man at the counter probably a third of the papers I had in my folder for my application. Which I was okay with, it is totally better than getting there and having the man behind the counter go, “Passport?” and you go “…riiiiiiiiight…” However, I had a traumatic experience that was almost that bad. My story goes a little something like this:

I get into Chicago at about 10:55 and decide to take a cab so that I get to my 11:30 appointment with plenty of time to spare. I lucked out with a driver who didn’t care about my life story and knew that I probably didn’t care about his. I discover on my way there, that my planner says 11:40, and I had much more time than I thought I would. (Sweet!) So I get to the consulate, which mostly just looks like a post office, and start talking to some of the other people studying abroad. When it gets to my turn at the 11:40 slot, actually about 12:00 at that point, I step up to the counter. I give the man my passport and he looks up my name. “That’s strange, your name isn’t in the system” My heart feels like it’s dropping all fifteen stories onto Michigan Avenue.  “I’ll try looking it up again” I try to convince myself he spelled my name wrong. “Are you sure you had an appointment today?” “I’m absolutely positive, I wrote it in every planner and on every piece of paper I have” Okay, so a bit of hyperbole, but still. Really?! I was about to burst into tears or take a chair and smash the window, because basically my life was over. “Can I see your forms?” What the hell is this guy getting at? Does he really want to torture me this much? “Okay and your ID. Okay, I’ll take your letter of acceptance.” And that’s when I figured out…he’s going to let me do it anyway! Oh heaven, and angels, and Eric Clapton! I got all of my papers that he needed turned in and he told me, “Come back in a month to pick up your visa.” I CAN GET MY VISA!!! I practically skip out of the building with relief and a new sense of freedom.

And then I ask myself. “’Come back in a month’? What is that supposed to mean?!”

Beginnings (I know, I'm super creative)

So, in approximately 55 days I leave for a brand new world. Or, I guess it should be called the Old World. But I think that's mostly reserved for immigrants. Anyway. I leave for four whole months to live in the beautiful and dangerous city of Barcelona. Architecture, beaches, art, music, and lots of pickpockets. I've got my plane ticket, my passport...but other than that, I don't have much.


I've been studying Spanish since my sophomore year at Clinton High School. (Shout out to Sra. Reich!) So as of now, I've had 5ish years of foreign language. Now that doesn't at all account for the regional differences or the accent that I'll come into contact with when I arrive in Barthelona...but that's just one of the many challenges that I'll have to face. 


I also face the challenge of keeping in contact with my friends and family back home while making new connections and friendships in Spain. Which is whyyyy....I started a blog! Yaaaaaaay! I am going to try to post at least weekly so that everyone back home knows not to call Liam Neeson to save me. Hopefully most of my posts will be both insightful and educational, with some humor and romance thrown in. You know, something for everyone. 


Until that point, I shall give updates on my progress of getting to my goal! Which is...landing safely in Spain. So thanks for reading!


A donde te quieren mucho no vengas a menudo. (A constant guest is never welcome)