Miguel Hernando Larramendi Martinez

Is my Mundo Árabe Contemporaneo professor at UCLM and the most adorable man alive. I am actually writing this to put off writing an essay for his class and studying for a midterm in another class. Here is why he is adorable:

• He randomly shouts out your name in class. Two or three times each class, this random shout-out is actually a question. Usually one is to one of the four Americans. He always has to repeat the question, because no one has ever heard it. Most of the time, he just works your name into a sentence, whether or not he intends it to catch your attention, it works.
• Today, it sounded like he was calling me “Dave”. There is no Dave in the class, so I knew it was me, but it felt weird. I love him so much that I cannot tell him. Mark assured me after class that he heard him saying “Maeve”.
• Wednesday classes are usually cancelled. He says there is a reason, but there rarely is. He doesn’t tell us until Tuesday, though, which makes travel arrangements at the end of the semester more difficult.
• Everyday in class, he shouts and bangs on the table at least once.
• He speaks at least Spanish and Arabic. He told us today that he is part Basque, so he might speak Euskara. He went to the University of Barcelona, so he can speak educated Catalan. I think he also speaks French and seems to know a lot of English.
• At least five times per class period, he takes advantage of our multi-cultural class to ask how to say things in different languages. Much of the time, the words are more or less the same in each language. First, he asks for the word in English, then Polish, then Czech, then Slovakian, then German, then the language of anyone else that is there (attendance is optional. The more assimilated you are into Spanish culture, the less you attend class). This is a nice break to catch up/zone out. It is also a nice chance to participate since it is in English.
• Today he announced that he is a descendant from some former governor of Spanish Florida or something along those lines and often he goes to Florida for some sort of celebration. I have no idea where that came from.
• He likes poetry and keeps asking us if we do too. Today, he asked us what the last novel we read was. I missed the question because I was daydreaming and so all of a sudden I heard people listing novels. I thought we were listing our favorite novels so I said, “Pride and Prejudice”. This is much easier than admitting the last book I read was a Nicholas Sparks novel with a terrible ending (Message in a Bottle-don’t read it-he dies).
• In the instructions for the paper I’m supposed to be writing right now, he wrote: “No escribir telegramas. Stop.”
• My absolute favorite thing that Larramendi does is pass around books. Occasionally, these books are in Spanish. We have no idea why he does this. We typically cannot read the books and we have no idea how much knowledge he expects us to absorb just by holding the book. But the mere passing of the book is not what I find absolutely adorable. Before he passes each book, he opens it and kisses a page. It’s like he’s that in love with knowledge. He doesn’t wear a wedding ring (which is not as necessary in Spain) and I think he might actually be married to knowledge. It’s like a new monasticism.
• The author of the book he passed around today is from the University of Barcelona and she was presenting the book tonight. He wanted us all to go. (Oops…it was the night before he assigned a paper). When he passed it around, it was more than just a kiss, I think he may have kissed it multiple times. I could not stop laughing.
  

In other news, tonight at dinner my host sister (eleven years old) sang “Womanizer”. “Jou, jou, jou are, jou jou, jou are womanizer, womanizer…” She asked me what “womanizer” meant. I have recently learned the Spanish translation-“mujeriego”. She did not recognize it, so I explained that it was a man that had a lot of women. She said: “Oh, like the Moors who had a lot of wives”. I said yes, more or less like that. She then sang “Gimme More”.
Oh, Spain.

According to Rick Steves….

What a joke. Never trust Rick Steves. Actually, I shouldn’t say that because I always trust Rick Steves and his descriptions of museums and important sites are actually quite accurate. Let’s tell the story, though.
Thursday night after class I flew to Sevilla to meet up with my family. I took a cab to the hotel, where the cabbie quickly recognized my father who was standing just outside the hotel with the money for him. We walked through a series of tunnels and courtyards to get to our room. (No joke-I have a video to prove this. I tried to upload it, but the internet connection at the Fund cannot handle such vanities. Must wait until I return home). In the morning we ate at a café across the street and then made our way to the Alcazar. It was quite pretty and interesting and we really enjoyed the gardens. In the biggest one, there were some ducks wandering around. One climbed off a step and tripped over its own feet (which I imagine would be a regular phenomenon for a duck) and fell. It was quite cute and my mom said “Don’t eat the duck tonight”. Neither of us typically eat duck, so it was not really an issue. Then my mom said: “Oh, well Dad is the only one of us that eats duck”. Remember this for later.
We met up with Carly to go around the Cathedral, which was huge and fabulous. I very much enjoyed the treasury and wished I had one of those crowns for myself. We climbed up thirty-two flights of ramp and then a flight of stairs to get to the top of the bell tower where we enjoyed spectacular views. We climbed back down, where someone from Ortonville recognized Sam’s letter jacket from Andover.

Part of the view from Giralda

We went out to comida (such a production, always). We then walked down to the river to see the Torre de Oro. We sat down next to it to rest our feet after walking so far and resisted the urgings of the boat tour company to take a one-hour tour in the river. It was hard because he kept shouting “Adelante! OK Come On!” hard to resist. We went to the Plaza de España and walked through the parks surrounding it. We then went back to the Hotel for happy hour.
We made reservations for a flamenco show at nine and made arrangements to meet Carly for tapas beforehand. After placing our orders, my mom wondered what my dad had ordered. He told her he had ordered duck. My mom and I burst out laughing for apparently no reason. My dad told Carly not to be concerned, this happens all the time. We told them about our conversation in the garden of the Alcazar and they joined in on the laughing. The tapas were great and we walked to the show.
The flamenco place came highly recommended by Rick Steves. When we got to the door, however, we were informed that our reservations were actually for a one night special performance of a klezmer band. Klezmer. We called Bubbe and Zaide to let them know, because we found it so funny. The ironic part is that we past this place earlier in the day and saw the sign advertising a klezmer band and my dad had taken a picture of it. Then, on the way to tapas, we passed the place again and thought: “Oh hey they have klezmer at the flamenco place tonight, too”. It did not occur to us that the klezmer was in place of the flamenco, or to ask, or to switch to the other flamenco place.

The only Klezmer band in all of Andalucia, and we skipped out on our chance...

We then walked to the Tamboril bar (dedicated to the Virgin Mary, where they break out into sung prayer and impromptu flamenco at midnight-at least according to Rick Steves. As Carly discovered last weekend, it has been closed for some time). I wanted to see it and Carly and I took a sad face picture. After more tapas (I tried sherry!) we went back to the hotel. Carly and I met up with her friend Catherine and we went to a couple of bars. Carly and I both tried orange wine and we decided we liked it. However, I feel like there are few places in the world that make orange wine and it is mostly a Sevilla thing. I was dismayed when I returned and found my father waiting up for me. I guess Sam did not want to be in the room alone, which is understandable, but I still felt like I was coming home from babysitting.

Epic fail, Rick Steves. Epic fail.

Saturday we woke up and got breakfast and then wandered down to the Museo de Bellas Artes, which was small but worthwhile. It of course had courtyards and gardens filled with orange trees. We wanted to see the Basilica of the Macarena, but Rick Steves did not know if it would be open and it was far away. We figured we wouldn’t be able to call a church, and our feet were sore, so we walked through the commercial district. After some bickering and being a brat, I succeeded in getting my mom to buy me a pair of jeans (the ones I wore to Sevilla have a hole in the thigh, and I needed a new pair of jeans anyway) and an adaptor. If anyone is coming to Europe in the near future: I highly recommend getting an adaptor here unless you can find a single adaptor back home. In the States, I mostly saw just world travel packs with all adaptors you will ever need in any country in the world, however, you can just get an adaptor here. I have no immediate plans to go to Japan, although I can take my computer there.
We went to lunch and I took a walk to blow off some steam. I bought postcards for my family but then got lost on the way back to the restaurant. I then ran out of minutes and could not call my father. So here I was, standing in the streets of Sevilla, crying because I was lost. My dad got a hold of me and came and got me. Turns out I was a block from the restaurant. Several times, in fact. I am such a drama queen. Instead of going toward the restaurant (there were several points where I could have just rounded a corner and seen the restaurant, but that would of course been the logical thing to do and why would I do that?) I kept going away from it. All’s well that ends well, no pasa nada.
After lunch we hung out in the hotel for a little and then my mom and I went to Mass in the cathedral. It was in the Capilla Real and there were so many people there that we had to sit in the chairs outside the chapel. It was some sort of a family Mass and I think there may have been some sort of mass baptism afterwards, people trying to get it in before a Lent starts on Wednesday. My mom and I got our fill of adorable Spanish babies. I think I might try to bring one home with me. I’ll need another suitcase, though, because half of what makes them so adorable is their wardrobe.
After Mass, we tried to reserve the flamenco show. The nine was sold out and my mom wanted to be in bed before 11:30, when the second one would end. But, my dad remembered that the Flamenco Museum they went to on Thursday before I got there. So, I called the museum and reserved fives spots. Carly was able to join us, which was good because we felt bad for ruining her flamenco dreams the night before. The performance was small, two dancers, two singers and a guitar player, but it was excellent. It was less touristy (I think there were more Spaniards there than not) and we could really see the performance, rather than be too distracted by lots of dancers and a bigger band.
We had more tapas. Sam surprised us by deciding to try fried anchovies…and liking them. He decided completely on his own to order them and ate most of his plate. We went back to the hotel and went to bed to wake up for our very early flight. I was actually able to sleep on said flight because I was tired from waking up at 5 am. After the flight I took the metro to the bus station, where I ran like a duck to catch the 9:30 bus because I got my ticket at 9:28. However, this bus was indirect and, given my deep-seated hatred for indirect buses, I decided to wait for the 10:00 direct, which would allow me to have a snack and use the freshly-cleaned aseo before boarding the bus and heading back to Toledo to study for my midterms.

What does this country have against toilet paper?

No, Seriously.
Everywhere we went in Salamanca (and on the way there), there was no toilet paper. We had to keep asking the boys to get us some, or go in the men’s bathrooms ourselves. It was terrible. But we survived, and became quite resourceful.
Here’s the weekend in a nutshell:
Friday:
We wake up even though we do not have class and go into Toledo (Polígono people got picked up there, but I had to go to the casco) to board a bus for El Escorial. If we were in America, I probably would have missed the bus, because I was quite late, but everything is late in Spain, so it’s all good. We drove to El Escorial but stopped at a rest stop twenty minutes away. Why? Inadequate facilities at El Escorial. The boys laughed at the line for the girls room, so we made them guard the men’s room for us. There was a shoe shine in there (the boys said that usually it is a person and you have to leave a tip, so it was cool that there was a machine) and toothpaste where Spain usually puts condoms, so I declared it an adequate bathroom. Especially since there was toilet paper. I bought some Haribo gummi bears, which were hard but delicious since they were actually fruity. Novel concept.
We go to El Escorial, largest building in Europe. It is a monastery that Felipe II built in honor of San Lorenzo (in the shape of a grill, like the method of his death) because he won a battle against the French on his feast day. The Basilica part was under construction (¡que triste!) but we could see the paintings and the library. In said library, there is a sign that threatens excommunication if take anything. I made Javier stand guard while I took a picture. We were not apprehended.

DO NOT STEAL FROM US BECAUSE WE HAVE POWERS!!!!

The Fund took us out to lunch, but there was not enough pan. They did give us crepes, however. Mine was delicious although I would not have minded some ice cream on it. We walked around the little village (so cute) until it was time to catch the bus to Madrid. We only stayed in Madrid long enough to catch the bus to Salamanca (which ended up being a couple of hours because we got there just before six but could not take the six o’ clock bus and had to wait until eight. We walked around the little neighborhood in which you would find the Estacion Sur de Autobuses, which we decided is the Polígono of Madrid. It even has a Calle Alberche. This little tidbit is for those familiar with Toledo and Polígono.
The bus was at eight and took two and a half hours. Since it was dark, we couldn’t really see the countryside or anything (which, turns out, is not that pretty except for the little mountain range around Madrid and El Escorial, which we had already seen) and we missed the giant bull billboard thing just outside Salamanca. Javier noticed the stars, however and we found Orion and the Big Dipper and were just excited to be able to see stars because that is so hard when you live in a city. You can’t even see stars in South Bend (mostly due to its proximity to Gary). I also knocked out a couple of chapters in my book for Mundo Árabe, my UCLM class.
When we got to Salamanca, we rushed to the hostel to make it in time to check in (we made it. Turns out Gabi had called, so we didn’t have to rush too fast). The hostel was named “Las Vegas Centro” and it actually had a star, so we felt legit. We changed and went out to enjoy the college town atmosphere, starting with tapas and ending with early-morning bocadillos where we ran into some inebriated thirty-somethings that started singing about football or something. It was amusing. We decided to have “pillow talk” and all gathered in the girls room and chatted for a little before going to sleep.
Saturday
We woke up and found a little café in the Plaza Mayor (grandest in Spain, probably about the same size at the one in Madrid, but more square). It was Valentine’s day and we wanted to do Secret Valentines, but the boys put the kibosh on that. We did, however, marvel at the cute little cakes in the pasteleria that said “te quiero” on them. After desayuno, we walked to see the University and Cathedrals. It was siesta so the Cathedral was closed and we couldn’t get into the University because it is being restored. We did find the lucky frog on the door.
We walked around and took pictures (my camera died around this time, tear). We crossed the bridge and had a picnic of bocadillos (with chorizo and freshly cut manchego cheese we found in a little supermercado). I lost my voice at some point Friday night and was dismayed at this point that it had not yet returned, but I was able to enjoy the peace at the park.

La Universidad de Salamanca

We went to the Cathedrals before they closed. We were walking around the New Cathedral, thinking it was the old one, and wondered why they would need a new one if they already had this one? It’s very ornate and beautiful, I’m sorry I don’t have pictures of the interior, but you can look them up online. While sitting in front of a shrine to Mary (one of many, of course) Amber lead Javier and I in a little group prayer. It was interesting and touching because she is not Catholic and yet was inspired by the Cathedral. After our prayer, we tried to get into the Old Cathedral (this is when we realized we had been in the new one the entire time). It closes before the new one and we missed it by only a few minutes. People we still trickling out of it and Javier asked if the three of us could just peek, since I was leaving in the morning and would not be able to come back (I had no voice at this point). We had just a quick peek and couldn’t go to the cloisters, but it was a very beautiful church. It was older and simpler and the main decoration was the elaborate altarpiece/tabernacle thingy (very technical name, I’m sure). We were very grateful that they let us in and ran out as they started turning out the lights.
After this, I walked around with the boys to help them find Cuban cigars. Only one tobacco store in all of Salamanca was open and it was right by the plaza. Of course, we walked around for an hour before finding it. That is not entirely true because I was tired and sat on a bench for a while. Since I was leaving in the morning before Mass in the Cathedral (and they only have Mass on Sunday mornings and not Saturday afternoons, which was very disappointing) Javier went with me to a church by our hostel, where we were the only people under the age of sixty except for some lady’s granddaughter. It was a little sad to see, but we figured the families all went in the morning. My mom says that a lot of people don’t go until they start a family, so that could also be an explanation.
Everyone took a nap since we were so tired, but this cut into our tapas time. We went bar hopping again, and finally found Jacko’s bar, which was Michael Jackson themed. We were very excited to have Michael Jackson song-themed drinks and dance to Michael Jackson music. However we were sorely disappointed when we arrived and found just a couple of Michael Jackson posters, a drink called the Thriller and no Michael Jackson music. Anyone that travels to Salamanca in the future: Don’t bother.
Sunday
I woke up a little before anyone else and caught the bus to Madrid. Turns out it was an indirect bus and took 3.5 hours instead of the 2.5 it was supposed to. I was very disappointed. However, once I got to Madrid, I was able to eat with…my family! My parents and Sam arrived the day before and we had comida together in the Plaza Mayor. Then we chilled in their hotel and then went to a bar for some coffee. I had hot chocolate to soothe my aching throat and decided that I will never be able to have hot chocolate in the United States again. I believe I described Spanish Hot Chocolate in ”Things we learned in Barcelona”. While doing this, I realized I wanted to catch an earlier bus than I had previously planned and proceeded to run to the nearest Metro station. I did not make the 7:00 bus like I wanted, but when I got to the platform for the 7:30 bus, I saw Rebecca Neville, on her way back from Dublin. It was a very pleasant surprise and we had a great conversation back to Toledo (my voice was still not better, but I was able to talk).
I got back and everything was friendly and fun with my host family, who had just returned from Ávila. Since my voice was gone, my host dad asked if I had done too much singing in Salamanca. I said no, that I did not know what happened to my voice. It just disappeared.
It was a good weekend.

The Blind-Adjustment-Mechanism Saga

I apologize in advance for the length of this entry. I hope it is moderately interesting.
Saturday, February 7th
I have come to discover that my family locks up their toilet paper. Therefore, I must ask for toilet paper each time I run out. This is problematic since I have now run out of toilet paper for the third time in 3.5 weeks. I use as little toilet paper as hygienically possible, and yet I constantly run out. When I ask my host mom on the way out of the house to book flights for Morocco, she mumbles: “¿otra vez?” I decide that it is not worth the humiliation and resolve to buy toilet paper in the future. Or steal it from public restrooms and the Fund. When I relate this story to Javier and Emily in between synagogues, Javier mentions that he has about 40 rolls of toilet paper in his bathroom and offers to bring me a couple at some point in the future.
When I go out that night, my host dad is passed out in the kitchen in front of the TV. He does not hear me say goodbye and I do not want to go into the kitchen and shake him to wake him only to tell him I am going out. Besides, I am running late and do not want to miss the bus (which almost happens). Then, on the way to the bus, I realize that this is the man that locks toilet paper and he thoroughly enjoys deadbolting the door, sometimes even during the day. In Zocodover, I call my family repeatedly but it turns out that I have had the wrong number this entire time. Freaking out, I make some interesting decisions that lead me to not returning home until 7:30 am. There was no deadbolt in place. (Notice that I said interesting and not bad decisions). I shut my blinds to black out my room as the sun is about to rise and I want to sleep as late as possible.

My window. Blinds partly closed.

Sunday, February 8th
I awake at 1pm and take a shower to get the smell of cigarette smoke out my hair and then go downstairs to find a note that my family would not be home for lunch but left my meal in the microwave. It includes tortilla, which makes me happy. As 1:45 is too early to eat, I go upstairs. It is dark in my room because the blinds are completely down, so I adjust them to let in some sunlight.
CRRRRRRAAAAASSSSSHHHHHHH
The blind adjustment mechanism is broken. What have I done? My heart begins to pound. I decide now is as good a time as any to eat. I go downstairs and heat my meal, which had too many garbanzo beans but I figure that was my fault because it had only been a day since I had told them how much I liked garbanzo beans. I put the blind-adjustment-mechanism back in its slot and crimp it in its hook thingy, so it looks intact and my family will not know unless they try to adjust my blinds.
I decide that I cannot face them until I have calmed down about the blinds, so I hop on the bus and go to the Fund. On the bus I have visions of them demanding I pack my suitcase and move to the Fund. I break into tears. Once at the Fund, I find comfort in Taylor Swift, Mariah Carey, Celine Dion and Meatloaf. However, I have forgotten my headphones. This is probably a better situation, however, because it means I have the sala de estar all to myself, which is beneficial for my random bursts of tears.
I go to Mass in the Cathedral with Javier and Emily and then Vespers with the people we met in the synagogue the day before (see previous entry). By this point, I have decided that it would probably be better to tell them when I get home because I will probably burst into tears again and they will have more pity on me. But, the clarity I feel after praying and talking with the fraternidad leads me to have the following realization: super glue. I resolve to borrow Javier’s flashlight.

Blind-Adjustment-Mechanism

Monday, February 9th
I borrow Javier’s flashlight. I have difficulties acquiring super glue. Why does the Eroski on Ronda de Buenavista only sell food and not essentials like super glue?

What have I done?

Tuesday, February 10th
I find super glue in the dinky “supermercado” between Zocodover and the Fund. I almost accidentally buy glue remover. I inform Javier that I will need to keep his flashlight one more night. When I get home, my host mom is watching TV. I decide now would be a good time to tell her that my family is coming to visit in a week and would like to meet them. We discuss past host students, the Spanish equivalent of the tooth fairy (it is a ratón that children believe is either a dentist to elephants and must collect teeth to make false elephant teeth or make jewelry. I tell her that I prefer fairies) and how much their Scotch neighbors in Alicante (where they have their summer beach house) like whisky and that every day at six, a taxi picks them up even though they have a car. It is a great conversation and I am feeling really good. I go upstairs and break out the super glue.
On the first try, it doesn’t work because I did not wait long enough before testing it. On the second try, I resolve to not touch it again until morning.
Blind-Adjustment-Mechanism. Securely glued in place, but not functional

Wednesday February 11th
I test the blind-adjustment-mechanism. It is securely glued in there, however it can no longer perform the function of adjusting blinds. Oh, dear.
I return the flashlight to Javier in teatro class. The class was hilarious. It is where we discovered the phrase “tiquis miquis” (picky eater) and the group of Mark, Gabi and Javier accidentally claimed that modern American society has such strong prejudices against the Jews that they are not allowed to attend the theatre. They had modern society confused with Inquisition-era Spain. It was refreshing to cry from laughing instead of sadder emotions for a change. We have group meetings where we talk about how things are going with our families. Ironic. I only volunteer the toilet paper story.
I decide to buy glue remover and take out the blind-adjustment-mechanism and tell my family that I have broken it (pretending it has just happened, of course). I turn to Flannery, who has been here all year, for advice and she say to take pictures and show it to her before doing anything. I re-break the blind-adjustment-mechanism and take pictures. I hatch a plan to tell my host family when my actual family comes to visit so that they will not yell too much and my real dad can give them cash. I cannot decide if it is too low-ball or staged or if my family will go along with it. Glue remover proves useless, a waste of 75 cents. I overhear my host dad whistling and recognize the tune to “killing me softly”. That brings back memories. Ben, do you remember singing that on the bus to Eastover? Because you did. Right after singing: “I know a song that gets on everybody’s nerves…”
Spanish super glue and glue remover. Together, they cost 2.60 euro. That’s three candy bars.

Thursday, February 12th
I am leaving for El Escorial in the morning and after that, Salamanca. Before returning from Salamanca, I will hang out with my parents in Madrid on Sunday. This means I will be out of the house for three days. That leaves three days in which my host family can go into my room and change my blinds. I cannot let them find out on their own, even though the likelihood of them going into my room and changing the blinds is very small. Even though I fear confrontation more than death a sharks, I decide that it is the right thing to do and today is the day. I figure I should tell them after dinner because if they are really mad, then I can just hide in my room until I leave for the weekend.
I arrive home a little earlier than usual, and everyone is in a good mood. I help Rebeca with her English homework and we go down for dinner. I tell my host dad about my weekend and we smile about it. Okay. Go time. I go upstairs and pack my bag for Salamanca, including going out tops because it is a college town with (rumor has it) 3000 bars/clubs. Then, since I am nervous, I go to the bathroom again. This always helps, but then I have to use more toilet paper and we all know that’s an issue.
I pretend to change the blinds and “drop” the blind-adjustment-mechanism and exclaim. This is more for me than them since they are all downstairs and can’t hear it, but it put me in the right mood. I go downstairs and tell my host dad: “Se cayó”. It fell. He looks at it, tells me what it is and that it is broken, and then we go upstairs. He proceeds to jam it in the whole from whence it came, which is of course the logical human reaction. He decides that the “mecanismo” needs to be replaced and he will call the factory tomorrow. He explains that the part cannot be bought in stores. Fortunately, the factory is in Toledo. I tell him to give me the bill. At some point, he says “no pasa nada” (see previous entry). This time, I very much enjoyed hearing those words.
I sit down and write the final part of this blog entry. However, due to my lack of internet in the house, I will not post it until Monday.
*Internet sucked on Monday, so I'm publishing it from work on Tuesday.

No Pasa Nada

“No pasa nada” is a good example of the Spanish attitude. It means “no big deal” or “whateves”, something along those lines. It can be your best friend-for example when you thing you have done something wrong and a Spaniard says “No pasa nada” that is a good thing. It gets old at 7:00 when you know that your mother has been in bed for hours…and there is a six hour time difference.
But I do not want to get into that story….
This weekend I stayed in Toledo, and it may be the last time I do that for many months. I finally made it to O’Briens, the Notre Dame Toledo bar. Friday I used the internet in the Fund to work on internship stuff. I’m still working on it. If anyone has an internship for me, let me know. I need to apply to stuff this week probably.
Saturday I ate with my family and then went into Toledo. I bought my tickets for Marrakech, Morocco at the end of the month (so exciting!). Then, I met up with Javier and Emily in the Sinagoga del Tránsito, which has a fascinating Sephardic museum. Of course, my parents unknowingly reserved a hotel next to it. After that, we went to Sinigoga de Santa Maria la Blanca. In case you were wondering, it was converted into a church after they expelled the Jews, hence the name. We almost did not go in because we would have to pay 2.30 euro. We laugh about that now.
Once we got inside, I joined in on the tours while Javier and Emily talked to the nuns. Yes, they found nuns in a synagogue. What are the odds? They actually belong to the synagogue. They (and some brothers) are in the Fraternidad María Estrella de la Mañana. It was founded by Abraham, a convert from Judaism and is about reconciliation between Christianity and Judaism. They were invited to join them for Vespers, which we did yesterday after Mass in the cathedral.
After Vespers, we sat down with some members of the fraternidad (including Abraham, who has a French accent when he speaks Spanish and it is enchanting). They were all incredibly fascinating. We asked them what brought them to be there and they spoke of their life searches. One had been in a Buddhist monastery for fifteen years, starting at the age of six. Then they asked us what our thirst was, what we were looking for. That is a hard thing to talk about in any language. Abraham gave us advice, and we listened in awe. He was so profound and interesting. The man met JPII three times. When we left we were like “Wow”. They invited us to dinner. We couldn’t stay last night, but we want to go back.
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FYI Spaniards are weird about toilet paper. I’ll just leave that there.
Saturday night, some guy in a bar was convinced that Javier looked just like Bill Gates. He was offended, because he considers himself much more trendy and “with it” than Bill Gates. I changed his name in my phone to Bill Gates, but then forgot about it. This made me very confused when Bill Gates called me the next day.

Visca Catalunya!

The weekend in Barcelona was the most interesting so far. Overall, it was a great weekend, but there were a few misadventures along the way. We learned a lot about traveling and human nature and everything in between in the short time we were there. I have compiled a list (below) of some of these things. This will make this entry long and I apologize. I shall try to include pictures.
We took the overnight bus on Thursday and came back the same way on Saturday, giving us two full days in Barcelona while only having to pay for one night in a hostel. Let’s just say that sleeping pills are hard to come by in Europe. However, the saying I have often heard from my grandmother/mother: “Resting is as good as sleeping” does have quite a bit of truth to it. Cafe con leche also helps.
We checked into the Arian Youth Hostel (no I did not like the name, but at least they spelled it that way instead of the other way). There was a Trivial Pursuit game in Catalan and I almost took a card as a souvenir (anyone that speaks Catalan would not be staying in a hostel in Barcelona) but the Catholic guilt took over.
On Friday we walked Las Ramblas (much better/safer in the daytime) and went to the Picasso Museum, which was fascinating. We had a good dinner, but the waiter tried to cheat us out of some of our money. He tried to force us to give him an eighteen euro tip when he was really rude to us. Javier talked it down to about nine, one euro each (which is really good for Europe). He also warned the other customers to check their bill, and was yelled at by the waiter, which amused us. Fortunately, there was a gelato place next door that helped us get over it.
The best part of Friday was our 2-hour personal tour of Sagrada Familia that Emily arranged. Laura (who speaks Catalan, Spanish and Italian-we chose Spanish) recently presented on the Sagrada Familia to the European Parliament to try to get funding. She’s 22. We spent about an hour looking at the front façade alone, trying to see all of the details she pointed out. She called the architect (because she knows him) but he was not around. After the tour, we took her to get sangria across the street and were able to get to know her better. It was all really cool.
Before going out on Friday night, we walked to the beach. The Mediterranean Sea. How fabulous. It was warm enough that I could take off my jacket, even though I was wearing a t-shirt. However, it was dark and our pictures of this evening are not that great.
That night, Melissa’s friend studying in Barcelona took us to the Dow Jones bar. It has a Wall Street theme and drink prices rise and fall according to popularity until the market crashes (about every fifteen minutes). We didn’t stay very long because we wanted to catch the metro before it stopped running for the night. We missed it anyway and spent the next 1.5 hours or so trying to find a bus stop for the right night bus or the bar again. At one point we asked some English speakers for directions and one of them went to Dan’s high school and graduated with his brother. Freaky.

Saturday we went to Parc Guell which was very cool. Basically, anything Gaudi touched was gold. Except more colorful and interesting. We also checked out a few of his apartment buildings on Barcelona’s equivalent of Fifth Avenue. They only place we could afford to eat there was McDonalds, which was the best McDonalds any of us had ever been to.
After lunch it was raining, but we went to Montjuic anyway. (Montjuic means Mount of the Jews, and it is where the Olympics were in 1992). We were able to walk right into the Stadium, where were found a few cats lurking around the café. It was really awesome.
We went to Mass in the Cathdral and then walked around to some other churches that were affected by the Spanish Civil War. Barcelona, in its Catalan nationalism, sided with the Republicans in the war. Since the Republicans (the communists especially) were anti-Church, they attacked the Churches in Barcelona. Emily and I went up to some older ladies selling candles and things in one of the churches and asked about the war. Basically every church was affected (that’s how they lost Gaudi’s plans for Sagrada Familia). The priests had to fight for the Cathedral, which seemed largely unaffected. This means that the other churches have burn marks and have had to replace their art. Now, I’m not a fascist so I’m not a Franco fan, but I’m also not about to side with people that burned churches and massacred priests (we learned about that part last week). Coming to Spain has put the war in a new perspective that Spanish Language Culture class at the International Academy did not give me. There really was no good side to the war. And, what makes it worse than our civil war is that there was no semi-clean split between the two sides and every city and family had people on both sides. Barcelona gave me a new perspective on this.

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My host sister had an English test to study for and wanted my help. Part of this included practicing how to pronounce things. She has a lot of trouble with “th”, which is understandable, since it isn’t really used in the Spanish language. The funny part came when she got to “Can I sit on this bench?” Now, “s” is a common sound in Spanish and she does not have a lisp nor does she usually have problems making that sound. But, for some reason, “sit” came out as “shit”. Now, to understand just how hard it was for me to hold back laughter, you have to get the picture in your head of an eleven-year-old girl walking up to you while you are seated at a bench and saying “Can I shit here?”.

I love Spain.

Things We Learned in Barcelona

1. Constant Vigilance
2. If for some reason number one fails, call Emily’s dad.
3. If someone calls you and says: “Um, yeah, so do you want some liquor?” the answer is yes.
4. Ditto for if someone calls and says: “We’re across the street drinking wine and eating baguettes. Care to join?”
5. Alcohol in moderation is an adequate substitute for sleeping pills if none are available before boarding an overnight bus.
6. Chupito = shot
7. Wear an eye cover on an overnight bus.
8. Change into your comfy clothes before boarding your bus.
9. Quote from bus driver: “Usually when people get on the bus, they sit in the seat on their ticket. That’s why we assign seats”.
10. No matter how cheap/adequate a hostel is, if it is far from the city center, it will be a hassle. The extra euros are worth it and probably less than paying for a metro.
11. It is quite easy to double up on entering a metro to save money. Here is some advice:
a. Make sure no one is looking
b. Double up, not triple.
c. It is not advisable for two guys to double up.
d. Do not feel guilty, especially when you see all of the natives doing it.
12. Do not make eye contact with passersby.
13. Do not trust Rick Steves’ maps. Ever.
14. The best maps label all streets. This is difficult for Spanish cities.
15. If you are trying to figure out how to get somewhere, it helps to know where you are first.
16. Listen to the bartender from Idaho. Otherwise you might spend a really long time lost in Barcelona when all you want to do is sleep.
17. If you ask an English-speaker for directions, she probably went to your high school.
18. Beef jerky does not contain chocolate and is therefore not candy.
19. The best way to make hot chocolate is to pour chocolate syrup in a mug and heat it up. (A good rule of thumb, you should need a spoon to consume hot chocolate)
20. DO NOT eat at Brasil on Las Ramblas.
21. Referring to number 20, take a close look at your bill when it comes and do not be afraid to argue.
22. Gelato solves almost all problems and it is perfectly all right to have it twice in one day.
23. McDonald’s in Europe is much better.
24. When using a public restroom, check before you enter the stall if they keep the toilet paper dispensers inside or outside of the stalls. This is not as important if someone else is in the bathroom with you and can give you toilet paper, but still worth checking.
25. It is entirely possible that the vending machines with pastries that you would like for a breakfast on the bus will be out of service, but the vending machine selling condoms and vibrators is working just fine. This machine may have cookies, which are adequate in emergencies.
26. Catalans are not all that friendly.
27. The Spanish Civil War was basically a lose-lose situation and I would have just had to move to America if I were there.
28. The Cathedral is worth saving.
29. Gaudi was a pretty kick-butt individual. Every curve and line in/on the Sagrada Familia has a religious significance. Think it’s just a blob? It’s actually a bird flying to Heaven. Look closer.
30. When trying to get to Parc Guell, look for the entrance instead of trying to climb a fence in the presence of security guards.
31. It is entirely possible that there are more Americans than Spaniards in Barcelona at any given time.

Disclaimer: These are not all necessarily things I personally learned, but that someone in the group learned. Many are inside jokes, so if you do not understand it, just let it go.
Personal explanation to my mother: I did not consume nearly enough alcohol this weekend to make you ashamed of me and any references to alcohol in this list do not necessarily refer to me.