general details

I have to comment on my daily life in Barcelona, mainly because I’ve only been talking about the things I’ve seen and the places I’ve been going on the weekends, and thus ignoring what I do here day to day. It’s weird to think I actually live here, even if it’s temporary. I’ve been reading my friend Andrew’s blog who is in a remote part of Peru for two years in the Peace Corps, and the most interesting parts of what he writes about is living in a different place. So although it might be mundane, I’m going to write down what living here is like, because that’s what’s on my mind.

I’ll skip right to bullet form because that’s how my thought process is.

- There is virtually no wildlife in Barcelona minus pigeons. Spanish pigeons are incredibly vicious. There are signs in the plazas and parks that, when translated, read “Do not come close to a pigeon, it is an aggressive animal it will bite you.” It’s like a sign you would see in Rocky Mountain National Park, except substitute the word “pigeon” for “bear.” If a pigeon swoops low towards a group of people, everyone ducks and sometimes little children scream. This is not an exaggeration. All pigeons have red eyes and most don’t have toes, or have some other deformity. I haven’t spent much time in other cities to compare, but I think these are the nastiest birds on earth.

- Almost everyone owns dogs, even though they live in tiny apartments. Strangely enough, there is a high ratio of huge dogs in this city. The only other animal I have seen in the past five weeks is a fat orange cat that sits all day, every day, in the window of a pet supply store. He’s the best part of walking to and from the metro everyday. I love him.

- I had long conversations every night with my host mom, Claudine. She is French and hates Barcelona and loves the U.S. I figured that out the first night. What I have come to figure out after many conversations with her, is that she is a fascist. That might seem a little harsh, but it’s actually the most accurate description for her. She’s a sweet old lady, but I suppose Nazis can be sweet old ladies too. Some details of her political and social beliefs I’m not clear on because she’s talking in Spanish, but here’s the things she’s said that I am absolutely positive I heard correctly. First, She says Spain is run by communists. Actually they are run by the Labor party, aka the liberal “socialists” if you want to stretch it that far. Second, she thinks the communist government is out to get her and her money. Third, she was a supporter of Franco and his forty-some year dictatorship in Spain. Franco was a fascist and executed tons of people and didn’t allow women to drive cars or wear pants. And my Senora loved him, said he was the best thing to ever happen to this country. Fourth, she says there is a problem with immigration from North Africa because “the Arabs come here with their three wives and 20 kids and take our money and jobs,” direct quote from the lady herself. I could give you more examples but I think you get the gist.

- With that being said, let me say that I really do love living with this lady. Claudine is 70 and her husband, retired doctor Rafael, is 85. She is sweet and generous and takes good care of me and always wants to know how my day was and if I’m lonely or if I’m happy. She likes to shop, and her favorite store is Gucci and she has a ton of money, some of which I think is family money from her father. She used to play polo and ski and she loves her grandchildren and shows me books about France. I never thought I could live this comfortably with a woman with her views and racism and all that, but I guess for four months there could be much worse people to live with. I’m sure her husband shares her views, but I never see him and he might be a little senile and doesn’t talk much.

- The last few days have been a little bit challenging. As probably all of you know who are reading this, the first two weeks I was here were traumatic and challenging. Since then it’s probably clear that things have gotten a lot better. I’ve been here six weeks now and I can tell you that I am so glad to be here and have this experience. It’s definitely easier in ways I wasn’t expecting and harder in ways I wasn’t expecting, but this is the first time leaving outside of Colorado, and at 21 years of age I needed that change. Anyway, things are better but there are always highs and lows and the past few days have been a bit of a low. I’ve had a lot of time to think and be by myself for a change, and this is my conclusion: My feelings of loneliness are temporary. Homesickness is temporary. But living in Europe is also temporary, and I have to take full advantage of the time I have here. Six weeks is close to a 1/3 of the duration of my program, and things are only going to happen faster from here.

- On a lighter note, let me tell you about my daily commute to class. I might have already mentioned that I have a 20 minute walk to the nearest metro stop, then 15 minutes on the metro, and then 15 minute walk to class. For awhile I was really enjoying that time I had to walk alone and take in everything going on in the city, but now it’s repetitive and annoying. I can’t really zone out and listen to my iPod, because I have to be on constant alert or I will get hurt. Let me explain: motorcycles drive on the sidewalks when they feel like it. For some reason I’ve only seen this happen in my neighborhood, but it is not fun. I thought motorcycles driving between lanes of cars in the States was frustrating, but this is just plain scary. If traffic is bad they will drive up the curb and go zooming down the sidewalk, and any pedestrian in their way should watch out. So after an exhausting day of classes and general stress of living here, I then have a 20 minute walk home jumping out of the way of motorcycles. **Also, taxis are apparently exempt from stoplights so when you are at a stoplight and you have the right of way, you can assume they won’t stop for you.

- I went to the beach today. I love that I can say that. It was a little chilly but it’s still the Mediterranean so you won’t hear me complaining. But in reality, the beach near the Barcelona port is quite hideous and part of the red-light district, so there’s really no reason to go there unless it’s nice enough to lay and read or go for a swim. Today we walked around a little bit, walked out on the pier, got harassed by a naked homeless man, and decided to go home. Life is never dull here.

- In between classes, Spanish students in the university I go to drink beer, smoke, and make out with each other. Public displays of affection are rampant in Spain. I think that’s because college students still live with their parents and the only time they see the people they are dating is in public, so they just stand there making out for long amounts of time. And I don’t understand the beer in between classes, or the smoking, or why they live 9 years longer than the average American if they are continuously smoking all day.

Ok, I am done ranting. Hope you found something in here interesting or entertaining.

Love you and miss you all, of course. ¡Felíz Día de San Valentín!
Laura