Finally Got Internet/Finally Can Post Again

Written January 8th:

It’s so strange being out of my element.

Don’t take that the wrong way. It fucking rules being here. But I guess it’s just different when I’m used to knowing every face and every place around home; everything being new comes with the territory in travel, especially international. And I love that shit.

That being said, I got to Barcelona last night around 7pm local time. Which would be noon or 1 back where most of you are. The bus ride wasn’t too unbearable, but goddamn was I getting sick of travelling. Seriously was starting to suck, dude. Coupled with the fact that I’d gotten around 5 hours of sleep since the second day in Madrid due to clubbing and exploring, I was feeling dead. You know that special kind of “finals week” tired? When everything seems like it’s coming from a distance and, while I swear I haven’t been getting stoned, my eyes are heavier than one of the Jersey Shore chicks? Yeah. I was catatonic. Still, the drive into the city was beautiful – little flickering lights in the distance just went on and on. Reminded me of summers when I was a kid catching the fire flies in hot summer nights. Tiny luminescent orbs against a pitch-black backdrop. Cool shit. I was excited to see it in the daylight, when the ocean would be visible. Sorry though, no pics -- the past couple sentences will have to do. One reason being that they’d look like shit being taken from the inside of a moving bus, another being that I was too sleep deprived to properly function a camera.

OH YEAH. Another couple things before I forget. This post is being written on the night of Sunday, January 8^th as a Word doc, and might not get online for a couple days. My host family has internet (and a really nice apartment, actually -- pics to follow shortly), but it’s one of those USB deals and isn’t Mac compatible. I used some wifi at a few girls in the program’s apartment close by today, and need to hit up a Movistar (like the Spanish Verizon) to see about getting my own interwebz tomorrow. Also, here are a couple photos from my hotel balcony in Toledo. I’m going to have to go back to that place. Fucking gorgeous.

Back to the matter at hand. Antonio, one of the ISA directors, handed out maps and we figured things out as far as the meeting point for the Spanish proficiency test we take on Monday and our respective proximities to la Universidad Pompeu Fabra. We were all plenty excited, which brings up a vitally important cultural point – unless you’re trying to hook up some Spanish strange in the most vulgar of ways, DO NOT say that you are “excitado.” It means you’re horny. Instead, try “estoy emocionado” – “I am excited.” Totally non-sexual. The more you know!

So, I was very excitado emocionado to meet my señora. I stumbled off the bus and, while everyone found their madres pretty quickly, I proceeded to walk back and forth around the drop off point like some kind of lost child. ¡Ayudame, estoy perdido! Kids still on the bus later told me it was pretty funny shit. YEAH GUYS REAL GODDAMN COOL. CAN’T FIND MY FAMILY. THANKS. It was whatever though, the “lost child” shenanigans only lasted a few minutes. Jo Ellen, my host mom, showed up shortly after.

She’s a good-looking woman of around 40 (I think the ISA description said 46, but I won’t ask) who is actually from the States. Her surnombre is Klaustemeier, and she’s of German and Korean decent (cool mix, right?). Originally from Minnesota, Twin Cities I think, she’s lived in Barça for 17 years. SEVENTEEN YEARS. Pretty solid sabbatical from America if I do say so myself. She and her husband are separated, and she has two kids who I haven’t met, ages 15 and 18. I’m staying in what used to be her daughter’s room, and I’m pretty sure I’ll meet the both of them at one point or another.

Appearing to be stressed or hurried (or maybe I was too tired to judge normal capacity for movement and speech), we did that whole kiss-both-cheeks-and-say-what’s-up (“grab somebody sexy tell them hey?” ) and threw my bags into the back of a white Fiat – that cool little European-looking car from the shitty J-Lo commercials they made in the US. I assume they used her in the ad to talk up the Fiat’s massive trunk space  and sudden lack of musical success.

Anyway, it was pretty awkward first meeting a stranger who is taking you into their home for the next few months. She seems wicked nice, but not overly personable; we’ll see about that. It’s only day one two. So, we drove through the city and she showed me around during the brief trip to her place in the Poblenou area. This included pointing out a couple landmarks/buildings/talking about the city. We also got into a little back-and-forth convo that went slightly deeper than pleasantries. Likes/dislikes/interests/kids/family/expectations and aspirations for the stay.

The place is located in the 200 block of Calle Llull (in Catalán, this is pronounced yoo-ee) if any of you want to look it up on Google maps. I totally crept around the barrio before I came here, and got the weirdest déjà vu when we pulled up to the door I’d only seen, up to that point, via computer screen. I followed her and hauled my luggage up to the second floor apartment, which is actually pretty fucking nice. She went on a little bit about how small it is, but it’s actually a super modern cozy little spot. Once I get my own internet working at this place you guys can use FaceTime, Facebook or Skype and I’ll show you around. Naked. For now, these will have to do:

I bought all of these trinkets myself. True story.

Jo Ellen remodeled everything in this place. Looks pretty solid.

This is where I make eggs/pan/cereal/more eggs.

This is couch, good for things such as sitting or laying down or possibly both. 

I sleep here and oftentimes set things on the cama such as my backpack.

So that’s the place. I think I’m really going to like it. A lot of ISA kids are in resedencias, which are either dorm style apartment buildings with other international students in various programs, or apartments that ISA has helped kids move into around the city. As I am in a home stay, I won’t have to buy food/bedsheets/toiletries/other shit. Also, Jo Ellen is incredibly laid back. Seems like we’ll both be in and out of the place most days. Aside from being wonderful enough to let me stay here for a few months (I know, I know. She gets paid too.), she’s very accommodating in making it easy to adapt.

Remember that time I was in Spain? Yeah, dude, me too.

After getting between 12 and 14 hours of sleep (I needed that so goddamn much) I woke up and returned a couple calls from friends in the program I missed the night before. Turns out a group of people got a little loco last night at Razzmatazz, a decent club/venue close to where I live. Kat, una amiga en la programa, couldn’t find her apartment (Understandable, it was our first night here. This city is huge.) and ended up getting picked up by some rando mujer who let her stay at her place. This woman was so goddamn nice and generous that she not only took this poor lost girl, this pobrecita perdida, off the street and let her crash on her couch, but also took her to her work at a bar the next day to feed her and give her café. We’re going there later tonight to watch the Barcelona game on TV. What a country.

Today, after eating tapas and sharing a bottle of wine (hair of the dog for everyone else as I was the only one that slept last night) we walked down La Rambla del Poblenou (the main street/avenue in the barrio) toward the beach. Holy shit – THE BEACH. I’m from the Midwest, guys, and you are all very well aware that Nebraska is boring as shit in terms of large bodies of water. This place is phenomenal. Little niños everywhere (all of them, I swear, on little scooters and bikes), wide sprawling sidewalks along the sand with open restaurants and tapas bars, people roller blading and running everywhere (very active city – no fatties), and then there’s the actual water. I didn’t take my camera, because to be honest the ISA orientations were designed to instill the fear of God into us as far as pickpocketing goes. A couple other people took pics and maybe I’ll get ahold of them, but honestly I’ll have a shit ton of opportunities (accidentally just typed “poop” while typing the “oppo” in that last word) to take beautiful beach photos. I’m going to love it here. Oh yeah, there were also these odd collections of metal exercise machines on the beach. I had to say something about it because they were so goofy; they have things like that in parks in the US, but instead of pull-up bars and whatnot there were also ghetto elliptical machines. Funny, no?

My situation at home – my host home -- is going to be great as far as I can tell. The place is nice, and honestly for the past couple days I’ve pretty much had it to myself. The kitchen is open for me at all times, and Jo Ellen is going shopping tomorrow for whatever I feel like eating. She left a few minutes ago to go watch the Barça game, and I’m doing the same in 20 or 30.

For now, I’m going to nom on all this spaghetti I just made. A very Spanish dish, I know. I think I’m lucky to be both assimilating into this cultura tan rica, but also have a home where I can jump in and out of English or Spanish at will and retain some sense of the States. I’m serious dude, it gets tiring to translate things in your head all day while listening/speaking. And we’ve hardly scratched the surface in this little trip abroad I’m taking. Goddamn language. It’ll come naturally soon, though.

Sorry this post didn’t have as many pictures of gorgeous and historic places, or any shots of my handsome face. I’ll try and take the camera out and about when I explore over the next few days. Hopefully I can post this fucking thing soon too, as I’m currently sitting at my desk typing on Word. Gotta keep all you guys updated, ya know. Anyway, I’ve got a fútbol match to catch and beers to drink. Go Barça!

¡Adios! 

UPDATE – NEXT MORNING: The Barça game was horseshit. Not the experience of meeting around twenty international students at a Barcelona sports bar and knocking my cerveza back in anticipation any time Messi gets a touch around the eighteen – no, no, no. That was great. I mean the actual outcome; they didn’t win, man. Pedro should have one-touched the game winner in extra time, but in a total Uruguay  move, one of the Espanyol defenders bapped the pelota con su brazo and it ended in a draw. Both teams are from this city. If Barcelona were NYC, FC Barça would be the Yankees and Español would be the Mets. How fucking cool is it that I’m going to see game after game, with Spaniards, in Spain though?? I’ll have to make it to a couple at Camp Nou as well. I can’t wait to make Scott and you other fútbol pendejos back home jealous. If memorabilia isn’t too expensive maybe I can buy you guys some stuff too. Or I could just spend it on cervezas. Speaking of, Estrella is pretty common here. It’s actually pretty damn good, considering its generally cheap prices at most bars (1,75€).

The post-game chill time was almost better than the game itself, también. Most of the ISA kids headed back home because of the lack of seating and the fact that the metro closes at midnight on Sundays. Kat’s friend (remember, the one who saved her from the vicious Barcelonan streets??) Hallar – pronounced hah-jar with a soft j – brought us a few rounds and kicked it with the five or six of us left. She doesn’t speak much English, and we struggle with Spanish. So we traded a few phrases back and forth. Good way to learn, right? It’s called having an “intercambio.”

Naturally, I wanted to know the verb for “fuck” in Spanish. I kind of swear a shit ton, you know? Anyway, en México they say “chingar.” I was pretty sure that en España it’s “follar,” and I was right. Hallar wouldn’t say the actual word though, so she wrote it out on a piece of paper for me. What a sweetheart.

I ended up talking a walk home from El Resaurante Prince -- Hallar's bar. That rhymes, right? Going to make that my spot for fútbol matches I think. Funny how back home a 30-minute walk a casa would piss me off, but in Barcelona where everything is new and exciting, I love it. Except for the fact that I had to pee really goddamn bad the whole time. What, you didn’t need to know that? Sorry I’m not sorry – lo siento no lo siento.

Haha. But it’s Monday morning now and I’m about to go find some café downstairs en la calle and just straight up decimate this Spanish proficiency test we’re all taking today. I need to score in the superior category so my classes transfer – wish me suerte. Or not, if you want to be a dick about it. I’ll post this novel I’ve just written once I can use the wifi (pronounced weefee here, which is cool) on campus.

One last thing: try this pan con tomate thing. I’m making it for every meal. Split a piece of baguette in half and toast it, then rub/crush tomato halves on each piece. Drizzle a litizzle oil on that bizzle and enjoy. Spain swag on full.

So it's been almost three days, and I've realized that everything is increasingly surreal. Fake life. New shit has come to light, and due to the fact that I've already spent some time here (seems like weeks already), certain things need to be addressed. As I write this I'll be recapping as much for myself as for any of you, and for the sake of chronological order I'll start from the beginning. Likely, this post will be longer than most to follow.

1: American Airlines Sucks

Okay, so it was Tuesday, January 3rd, and I hadn't flown for almost three years. I'd forgotten that I'd almost rather go out and buy a Nickelback CD than put up with the TSA Gestapo. Almost -- fuck Nickelback. Not to mention the delays, maneuvering airports and the general stress involved. We waited on the tarmac for almost two hours due to "communication problems," which was a precursor to an 8 hour flight with enough leg room for a small child/Danny Devito. Then again, I experienced the miracle of flight and am going to spend the next six months in Spain. Goddamn SPAIN. How cool is that??

2: Madrid Does Not Suck
Seriously, it doesn't. After navigating my way from the international terminal to my study abroad group we took a bus to the Hotel Nacional, which had these bad ass automatic Persian blinds that held my attention spain span for a solid 10 minutes. Wicked cool. The hotel was pretty centrally located in downtown Madrid, close to any museums/shops/parks the city had to offer. I quickly realized that the guys in our group, about 50 people total, were outnumbered 4 to 1. F'real. So that's nice and whatnot. Moving on.

The first day was nothing special.  Actually, that's bullshit -- it was my first day assimilating into a new culture, speaking a new language and meeting dozens of new people. Pretty much, though, we got to the hotel late afternoon, I met some kids and ate dinner al restaurante cerca del hotel, and passed out. Thursday was when shit got real.

I swear I'm like Chris Brown when it comes to jetlag, because I beat the HELL out of it. Woke up Thursday morning, realized I was in Madrid (Yeah, dude. I know.) and headed with the ISA group to the Prado Museum. This place was just ridiculous -- I was flat out speechless with the amount of history and culture harbored this sanctuary of all that is artistically holy. Here are a couple of my favorite pieces. The first one is by Goya, and is a very emotional piece. He equated the story of Saturn (this bastard had a nasty habit of devouring his children, until his wife got him drunk and switched the last kid out for an animal; the son grew up and fulfilled a prophecy in killing Saturn, his father) with his own struggles of conception -- due to VD's and miscarriages it took he and his wife EIGHTEEN attempts to conceive a child. Gotta love that tenacity. The Velazquez piece is called "Los Meninos," and is especially intriguing to me because Velazquez, who is looking directly at you as you view the painting, is said to be painting a portrait of the king and queen on the giant canvas. You can see the royal couple in mirror in the background, and true to perspective, would be standing in the place of the actual view of the painting. MIND. BLOWN.

Francisco de Goya statue outside of the Prado museum.

Thursday afternoon followed with a tour of central Madrid. I could write for days about it, but I'd rather post a few pictures. This post is pretty long as it is, right? And we've got another full day to cover. God dammit.

This is La Plaza Mayor -- the main plaza in Madrid. Unlike the States, there are large open spaces where people meet/drink/eat and it's awesome.

La Plaza del Sol. There were a ton of decorations/music/stages etc. being set up around here because it was La Día de los Reyes Magos -- pretty much Christmas in Spanish cultures. The day the three wise men brought gifts to little bebe Jesucristo and whatever.

I have way too many photos of buildings and landmarks around the walking tour this woman Silvia took us on, so I'll continue to include the most memorable shots. You can see the others if you ask (for a nominal fee). This is Catedral de Santa María la Real de la Almudena de Madrid. The main cathedral in Madrid. Apparently a lot of the locals think it looks like shit compared to other architecture around the city -- unoriginal, gaudy, etc. Sucks to suck.

This is the royal palace in Madrid, across from la Catedral. El Rey y la Reina don't live here (I don't think they knew what do with all the fucking rooms -- there are thousands). It's open to the public in most occasions, and used for special government receptions.

L-R: John, my good looking self, Ty, Rachel, Sam, Sarah, Peter. Real cool kids. Palace in the background. PS, holy shit we're in Spain!!

So, that's about it for pics from Madrid. I wish I had more, but the truth is I was entirely too busy having the time of my life. That night, after a solid siesta, things got real. Really, really real. A handful of us went to a restaurant around the corner from the hotel. Ordering food in Spain es muy difícil para los gringos, but fortunately we met Sergio. His dad owned this place, he bullshitted as much as the language barrier allowed with us, and in all honesty poured me the heaviest rounds of Black Label I've ever had the pleasure of crushing. I'm talking a few shots per glass -- God bless Madrid. Afterward, we headed across the street to El Kapital.

L-R: Krista, some good looking dude, Tracy, South Carolina Sam, Katt, California Sam, Peter.

This place deserves it's own damn paragraph. Two words: seven stories. Bars and balconies at each level, dance floor on the seventh floor and giant main dance floor with DJ's on the first floor. We chatted it up with some locals with moderate little success, and eventually made it down to the first floor to rage. We got there at one, and it was dead; total tourist move. Around 2:30 the place got packed, and we danced the shit out of shit. Blaring house music. Some dude (who the booze led us to believe was Nero for a brief time) playing Nero remixes and shooting us with a fire extinguisher. Cross dressing, toga-donning dancers on stage. Giant club. Combine that with the all-too-touchy Spanish hombres and our down ass group of ISA students and we had a hell of a time. Finally left around 5 to get slices of pizza at 2 euro a pop and trek a block back to hotel. WHAMMY. MADRID. DONE. Artwork, architecture, culture, dancing. Check it off the list.

3: Toledo Is My Favorite Place On Earth
Not Ohio, for anyone that wants to make that shitty joke. This place -- the entire city -- was something out of a movie. We checked out of the Hotel Nacional Friday morning and took about an hour long bus ride. It was seriously breathtaking. Again, I'm going to follow this brief introduction with a series of photos and captions, because while I'd like to think my prose is on point in terms of using this blog as a literary canvas, words just don't do this city justice. Go there or your life will not be complete.

I mean, damn. Right?!?!

My dude Muneeb y yo. Roommates in Madrid y Toledo. Notice how bad ass the city looks in the background. I obviously have an exceptional height advantage. I'd probably win in a game of basketball.


FUN FACT: I saw two pigeons banging while crossing this bridge.

Fernando, our tour guide, is in the foreground. All around awesome dude. He took us around Toledo, and in this pic we're in La Iglesia de San Juan de los Reyes. Due to the gothic architecture throughout this place, I walked around with a slack jawed, shit eating grin on my face for a solid hour. The next few photos are from this place.

This guy was just chilling

Thy holy courtyard.

Everything about this place was so intricate. This is the ceiling of the second story overlooking the courtyard. "F" and "Y" at the left stand for los reyes Fernando y Isabel. Other things symbolize various areas/kingdoms of Spain. Lion -- Leon. Pomegranate -- Granada. I think the bars stood for Arogón.

Yeah, man. I went to Hogwarts.

Learned all about the coats of arms. Forgot some of the symbolism (see previous caption) which was wicked prevalent around this place.

The river around Toledo is called la Tajo, and is the longest river in Spain. Tajo means shortcut. Isn't this educational??

El Catedral del Toledo.

Took this near the restaurant we ate at on the edge of the older district in Toledo. I had Carcamuscas, a pork/veggie/spicy dish that is signature to Toledo. Delicioso.

Before I forget, I also saw El Greco's most famous work, The Burial of the Count of Orgaz. The poor dude -- the count -- was stoned to death...with rocks. Amazing artwork -- this whole city gave me this strange old world feeling. Like every building had been constructed to tell a story. It was goddamn phenomenal. My pictures really don't do it justice. Walking through the narrow, culture-rich streets was really something else.

We met back in the main plaza in Toledo before checking in at the Hotel Beatriz, this Shining-esque 70s style hotel on the outskirts of the city. Ended up taking a three hour nap before heading out to el Círculo del Arte, this awesome church-turned-bar tucked away in the cobblestone side streets of Toledo. 

Did I mention it's 7 AM here and I'm jumping on a bus to Barcelona in two hours? Aforementioned bus ride is almost 9 (dammit) hours long, and I have no idea why I made it a point to finish this first post tonight. My best guess is I can't sleep wanted to get it out of the way -- succeeding posts will be more to the point and focused on individual events. Share this thing if you feel it, I'll keep it up as often as I have time to kill. Enjoy!

I am.