watch yourself, you're in the DANGER ZONE

Ask anyone from Barcelona what the best weekend is here, and they'll tell you it's La Merce. Pretty much, all weekend everyone goes totally berzerk because it's the festival of Barcelona's patron saint. There are a ton of activities all over the city; concerts, fireworks, traditional dances, human towers, parades, and carnivals. It's insane. And the most fun I've had here to date.

Saturday night I met up with some friends to watch the correfoc. I had very little idea what I was going to. When we emerged from the metro station, the street was swarmed with thousands of people, each one bundled up in sweatshirts, jackets, goggles, gloves, and scarves. We pushed through them and found a spot in the mouth of an ally with a good view of the street. Fireworks and sparks flashed in the distance. Far away drummers pounded out a steady beat. And then the nervous laughter started. Karen and I, feeling brazen, pushed our way to the curb. The drums and lights were getting closer. Sooner than one would think, hundreds of people dressed in red and black devil costumes were upon us, marching along to the drum beats. They stopped several yards away. Someone poured a bottle of lighter fluid into a paper mache dragon's mouth. Another devil put what looked like dynamite onto his pitchfork. As if on cue, and considering it was a parade, they were probably totally on cue, which really makes that turn of phrase useless, each little diablo lit their pitchforks on fire. Sparks shot out of every prong, and out of the dragon's mouth. Directly into the crowd. Naturally. Karen and I ducked down and hid behind a tall guy to not get burned. Smoke filled the street, and in that giddy and terrified way that kids get when being chased in tag, we pushed pack to get into our safe spot in the alleyway. I think I literally shoved a four year old out of my way. Laughing hysterically, the crowd ducked and dodged behind one another, wanting a good view but also some kind of protection. After about an hour and a half of this, we decided to take off (so we could get a good place for Belle and Sebastian holllaaaaa). Leaving the correfoc, one really is asking to get singed to death. We had to run across the street to get back on the metro. I looked down dubiously at my little cardigan. Then I ran across the street with such speed I broke the sound barrier.

The goal of a correfoc is to turn Barcelona into a kind of hell, hence the swarm of little demons and monsters running and dancing and burning people. The little danger added by the sparks and fire being hurled into the crowd made it all the more fun. My camera was running out of batteries, so I only got a few pictures, but I think that's okay. You get to see things as they are, not out of a little screen.

After the correfoc, we hauled ass to the venue for Belle and Sebastian, stopping briefly on the way to get some wine. We popped into a little bodega, and asked for the cheapest bottle. The woman told us we could get three bottles for 3 euro each. Karen, Andy and I looked at each other. We did not each need our own bottle. But apparently we could either pay nine euro for three bottles, or buy two for ten. Well if that makes any sense to you, let me know, because I was like WHAAAT. But anyway, needless to say, we emerged from the store, each of us clutching our own bottle of cheap ass wine. A woman holding two 40s looked at me weird. Yeah I know, lady. I know. Anyway, after pushing our way through a swarm of people, we got a pretty good spot. They show was AWESOME, and the people around us were really fun to dance with and, like everyone here in Barcelona, infinitely patient with my horrible Spanish. I finally made it home at about 4, got to talk to Mac for a bit (he was just waking up), and then slept like a bebe.

But sadly, not for long. Kendall and I had made plans to get up and see the castellers Sunday morning. She knocked on my door, and I started feeling every sip of that 3 euro bottle of wine (all two of them, mom!). But after drinking 7 liters of water, I was ready to go. Kind of. I hung back and watched the show myself, not feeling the hustle and bustle of the crowd. I didn't expect the castellers to be so graceful. Each group, dressed in the same colors, would just kind of flow together into an enormous human tower, tall and thin. To complete the tower, a small child, usually around four years old, climbs to the top. And then the tower just melts back down. It's so fluid. Except I had a heart attack when one of the towers fell over. I saw it shake. I knew it wouldn't hold. I looked around me anxiously. They were going to fall! Was anyone watching this?? The top third of the tower, including the little kids, fell off, grabbing other tower members, bringing them down as well. Nobody seemed very alarmed though, and after I talked to Kendall about it later, she brushed it off with a, "Oh yeah, that happens all the time. It's not a big deal." Okay. I think I would have died if I were one of them. After seeing a couple of towers, I slid into a cafe, grabbed breakfast, and sat outside in the chilly air and the warm sun.

So those were my favorites. Several minutes ago, my host father knocked on my door and invited me to watch the fireworks on TV with him. The entire city had been shaking because of them, the sounds of the explosions cracked throughout the streets. On TV, the show was set to music. They managed to skillfully mash up a KidzBop rendition of I'm A Believer with Coolio's Gangsta's Paradise. Just kidding about the "skillfully" part, but it definitely was a mash up. It was also the absolute perfect way to end the weekend.

A post of great import

Dudes, we have so much to catch up on! Almost too much! The mere thought of it is a little overwhelming, and after walking about 500 miles today and eating a sandwich the size of my leg, I don't know that I'm up to the task. Which is why this was a really good time to sit down and write an update. 

So instead of talking about stuff that actually matters, I am going to dedicate a good bit of this post to talking about McDonald's, which I suppose in it's own way matters, but that is a discussion for another time (never). 

First I would like to say that it's been a long, long time since I've paid a visit to the yellow arches. Like... maybe two years. Probably more. And I'm not one of those people who come to Europe and eat like, one small pastry every day because it's the only thing they're familiar with, or they're too scared to eat anything else. I mean, I ate the head off a fully fried little fish the other day, I think I'm game. And, really, what would YOU do if you found out McDonald's offered enormous cups of beer on tap? That's right, you would go there immediately for a novelty lunch, order some meat and bread concoction, and look around at the weird mixture of Europeans in the cafe-style seating area, laughing with their mouths open so you can kind of see bits of chewed up burger and fries on their tongues. And, of course, when not giggling hysterically at your friend, you would sip your enormous cup of beer through the yellow and red straw provided to you. At absolutely no time would you think, "Wow, this feels like I'm back in the US!"

That's kind of how a lot of things go here. You think it's one way, but it turns out to be way different than you would ever expect.

I have lots more to say on this, but for now, a little siesta.

Sometimes it's hard.

That's what he said. Anyway. In this episode, Adrienne gets a little emo, so feel free to scroll down to the far more exciting and enjoyable Pasapalabra post. Because sometimes it's hard, and sometimes it's not.

My crazy hilarious Spanish teacher Ata pulled up a graph on the projector screen (after struggling with it for several minutes, muttering, "Oh I luff my life."), charting the typical moods of a study abroad kid. These first few weeks we’re supposed to be in the honeymoon period—everything is novel, every interaction is awesome and quaint and full of excitement and life!!!!!! From this initial honeymoon phase, the line drops sharply ("this isn't new and fun anymore, this is actually life/ Jesus Christ this place is annoying.") and then the rest of the semester is a slow climb up ("Oh hey I'm adapting!"), before it finally levels out at a mid-range level ("Hey this is normal life to me now."). And then once back in America the kid is supposed to plunge into another deep depression/ culture shock. Well that’s a whole lot of awesome to look forward to, I thought. But the thing about it is, if this is the honeymoon period, why don't I feel like it is? 

Sitting with some girls at a cafe yesterday, we started talking about it. Each one of us was incredibly grateful and thankful to be here, we love Barcelona, and thus far, everyone, Spanish, American or otherwise has been nothing but helpful, friendly, and open. And yet none of us were experiencing this amazing feeling of euphoria that our friends in other places were (and every time I hear from them, I get so incredibly happy that they're thriving, the kind of happiness that just fills up your lungs so much that it's hard to exhale. You know what I'm talking about? I hope so or else I probably have some serious medical condition in my lungs I need to deal with soon. So keep talking, people). We were kind of depressed, actually. Maybe it's the language barrier, but none of us really thought that was the reason. After mulling it over, we decided that maybe not having a honeymoon period is okay. Maybe that chart was crap. Maybe we were getting our homesickness out of the way. Maybe we were just seeing things as different, not better or worse than our cultures back home, just different, and that was what was hard. 

You know when sometimes you just get so wrapped up in your head and what you're going through you get so annoyed and you just want an out of body experience to get away from yourself? If you don't know what I'm talking about, here's an example. Imagine your body is you, and your thoughts are Julia Roberts in Eat, Pray, Love. You need to get out of the theatre ASAP because she is a-n-n-o-y-i-n-g. Now, I'm not a religious person. But yesterday I needed to feel stillness and I needed to get over myself. So I found my way into the small 12th century Parroquia de Santa Anna, a church located next to Las Ramblas and Placa de Catalunya, and yet almost impossibly tucked away. Once you enter the courtyard, the hustle and bustle of the city disappears and it becomes eerily quiet. I entered the dark, still, and kind of creepy church. It was like a mini Gothic cathedral, with rib vaults and a high ceiling. I sat in a pew in the back. You know that feeling that old churches have where you can feel the energy of all of the people who've been there before you; the fear, the hope, the desperation, the boredom, the anger, the joy, the resentment? Because of it, even though the only other person in the room was arranging flowers up in the front near the altar, I didn't feel alone, and I didn't need to think about me anymore.

 After a time I walked outside to the cloister and watched ants eat a peach that had fallen off one of the trees. 

Pasapalabra

So there's this game show here in Spain called Pasapalabra. I like watching it snuggled up next to Isabel, my host mom after a ridiculously good dinner. Basically, it's like a mixture between Jeopardy and a crossword puzzle. The host, who looks like this:

(?!?!?!?!) asks a bunch of questions, and the contestants have to answer, but the answer has to start with the letter of the alphabet they're on. If they don't know, they can pass their turn, or the word, hence the title. Here's what the contestants look like. Enjoy. 

Sorry about the weird spacing, I don't know what's going on here.

In Spain in the Membrane

Sorry about the title, y'all. But I just can't help myself.

WELL. The cliffs notes version before the more "interesting" stuff. Arrived safely, homestay is awesome, my family is great, location is sweet, Spain is very cool, my roommate is nice and we shared a mutual gladness that the other wasn't a crazy lunatic drunk ass. So, yes. I am finally in Barcelona, and have been since about 8:45 am September 1st. Jet lag has worked it's unfortunate magic on me, and now I have absolutely no concept of what time or day it is. Also they use military time here, so that's even more confusing. Basically I have no idea what's going on half the time. For example, a story:

Soooo today was the first day of Orientation. The sheet and the IES guy were very misleading, and I was under the impression that Orientation lasted from 9:00- 3:35 today. What a long Orientation! I thought, but then dismissed it. I mean, this is a foreign country and stuff. Okay, that's not unreasonable or anything. So at about 8:45, my roommate Kendall and I mosey on down to the bus stop across the street. How convenient it is to have a bus stop right in front of your homestay! Please note that we soon learned it is not so convenient that you can waltz down there 15 minutes before Orientation and expect to get to your destination in less than a half hour. Anyway, so we roll into the study abroad center, quickly look up which classroom we were supposed to be in and jet towards our respective rooms. I slid into a desk near the door. It took a minute or so for the woman at the front of the room to see that there was a new kid in the class. She welcomed me, even as I apologized for being so awfully late, and handed me a guide book and a sheet of paper to write my name on and fold over on my desk so everyone could see. That's nice. Getting to know my new class! As soon as she finished giving me all the stuff she had to give me, she sat down and continued from where I had interrupted. She basically outlined everything it said in the pages of the book, sometimes pausing to ask or answer questions. Mind you, she was doing this all in Spanish. The kids in the class were asking questions and making comments that were long and well put together, using words and tenses I don't know. But I continued to nod and look like I understood what the hell was going on. I looked around the room. Was I seriously the only one who was missing large chunks of information? I mean, what kind of ridiculous 2 semesters of Spanish did THESE people take?? I can't be the worst person in the class! Several people were staring off into space. How were they doing that? I was hanging on every word said, quickly translating it and trying to keep up with what was going on. I looked over at this guy named Juan who was telling a joke in Spanish. Why is someone named Juan in an Intermediate Spanish class? I guess he's just trying to fit in with the locals or something. Whatever, Juan.

About half hour later it was over. The dude next to me confirmed that we were done for the day. Okay, sweet. I met Kendall in the hallway. She's in an advanced language class, and so I asked her how it went, and then mentioned something about it being entirely in Spanish. She looked at me. "Mine was in English." What? That's weird. "Adrienne, I think you were in the wrong class." No, no, no, man, I read that piece of paper, I know when I'm supposed to be places! This evening I discretely looked at that sheep of paper, and... I mean... oops.

So after that very relaxing and informative Orientation session, Kendall and I walked around for about an hour. All of a sudden, I looked up and BAM! WAS THAT YES IT WAS THAT. Gaudi's Casa Batllo. CAN YOU SAY SAY WHAAAAAAATTTTTT. I spent the rest of the walk making up Gaudi puns in my head (I'll spare you). We met Kendall's mom for lunch in this little cafe, and it was like exactly the lunch I needed. I was kind of feeling a little blue (probably from the lack of sleep and food. Plus that was one draining and slightly depressing Orientation session, and frankly I really really miss my boo) Not that the food was especially good or anything, but because we just talked for awhile, and  I made them laugh and that was something that I just needed to do. Make SOMEONE laugh, and that laugh meant that they understood the joke, the things I was saying, my humor, and we shared a background, experience, and knowledge of the same familiar culture. Kendall's mom was super sweet and helped me get oriented in the city, and after we all shared stories of already missing home and the US, I felt a LOT better. And then I finally figured out how to get the internets in my room, so things are looking up for Aidy.

Sorry if this is way too long, there's so much to say it's hard to trim down. Maybe more tomorrow?