Home is where the heart is.
Devuélveme mi corazón, Barcelona.

Regreso a las orillas de Sitges

Paris was amazing, and when I get the feeling like I want to blog about that, I will.

Right now the only thing I can think about is Barcelona. Today while I was in freaking Mediterranean ocean, doing some backstrokes, looking around Sitges, I couldn't help but wonder when I'd ever see it again. I know I should be happy that I even had the opportunity to even see it, but I want more and I don't care how selfish that sounds. The weather was perfect, and why is the sand & ocean here so nice?! Anyway, I'll talk about my day.

Kathryn & I get up bright and early to catch the 10:29 train to Sitges, a city about 45 minutes south of Barcelona. The beach is better and, fortunately, the tourists haven't quite caught on to that. We walked for a while, but finally stopped at a quiet little spot on the shore with a nice view of the ocean & Hotel Terramar (which looked a lot better in its original form). The water was beautiful and we laid out for a few hours before heading to lunch, which was huge. Patatas bravas, pan con tomate y jamón, spaghetti, and bacalao - so much food, but so delicious complete with Estrellas and sandías. 

After lunch, we plopped down on another spot on the shore and took advantage of the ocean. We also took advantage of the fact that going topless is the way to go in Europe. The lack of tan lines on my chest will soon be obsolete once I go back to the Atlantic. Anyways, we headed home after a perfect beach day and now I'm here in my room wondering how I'm going to fit anything into my suitcases.

Oh yeah, the sky looked really ugly one night so I took a picture of it from my balcony.

Huge man with tiniest poodle puppy. Oh, España, como te quiero. =)


Edit: Ahora el cachorro está acurrucado encima de sus rodillas, medio dormido. Y todavía no tengo ninguna página de mi ensayo. Tàpies me hace demasiado pensativa.

 

I don't wanna go back! I want to play here forever.

In the UB library, reading a book on poetry, María Zambrano, hinduism, and nature. This is the life. 

Pomegranate, Spain

Dammit, so Granada happened the third week of March and I have no idea how I'm going to remember anything. Pictures will help. So will bullet points. 

Granada was by far my favorite excursion organized by CIEE. There's something about the influence left by the Arabic dynasties that makes it so charming and rich.

• La Alhambra was beautiful, really a work of art. I wanted to stay there for a lot longer than we could, sit near the fountains, listen to the water, and read Tales of the Alhambra by Washington Irving. It was the last stronghold of the Arabs before they were kicked out by the Catholic Kings. 

• Our tour guide explained that the sultan always had a "favorite" among his women, who he didn't use for sexual purposes but was the most intelligent and his most beloved. I don't really believe that he didn't use her for other things, but I guess I'll go with that. Our tour guide liked me so much I was named the "favorite". A lot of girls felt he was a little too chauvinistic with the females in the group. Whatever, get over it. I hate feminists. He's just Spanish, they're all like that, they all look. Haven't you been in Spain long enough to figure that out. Oh wait, no one probably looks at you anyway.

• El Albaicín is my second favorite part of Granada, complete with narrow, winding streets, las teterías (tea shops), and other small shops. The first night I ended up eating at an awesome tetería with a bunch of people and later smoking hookah at another one. The food and tea were delicious and I went to bed with a happy stomach and a dizzy head. 

 

• The gelato was the bomb. Other than in Rome, I've never had such good gelato. Gah.

Crap, I forgot to blog about Granada.

Last time I checked this was Catalunya.

I don't know how this popped into my head, but as I started thinking about it, the more it irritated me. So I have to get it off my chest.

The word 'Barcelona' is not pronounced 'Barthelona' here, as many people (all non-spaniards) like to tell me.

Yes, there is a distinction in most of Central and Northern Spain between the ceceo (pronounced with a 'th' sound) and a seseo (pronounced with a 'ss' sound), but with bilingual speakers in Catalonia and the Basque country, there usually isn't a distinction. Which is why I'm always confused when my host mother says "caza", because I think she's talking about a house (casa), but she means hunt. Also, Ibiza is in Catalonia and it's name in it's mother tongue (Catalan) is Eivissa. So no, you're wrong, it is not pronouced IBITHA. Say it like that if you're not from Andalusia and you look stupid, because you are obviously not Andalusian. 


And it's not a lisp, G-d dammit. They don't speak like that because they have a speech impediment, it's a mental choice and their upbringing that makes them either distinguish or choose between the two sounds. 


Before I came here I too was under the misconception that the majority of people here pronounced everything with the 'th' sound. And for a lot of us, we just didn't know any better. But it's when people who have been to Spain once or never try to tell me that I'm not pronouncing Barcelona or Ibiza right. Sorry, I've been living here for the past five months and I have yet to here it spoken the way you think it's said. 

Someone give me an ax to chop the right side of my face off

So before I left for Barcelona I decided to suck it up and finally go to the dentist. First of all, I hate her. No, that's not fair I just hate all dentists and she happened to be my dentist at the time. She told me I might need a root canal. Great.

Dentist:  There's no infection yet, so that's good.

Me:  So what do I do if it starts hurting?

Denist:  Take some advil or pain killers or something.

Me:  Okay...

*Mom comes in*

Mom: HELLOO SO HOW IS SHE?

Dentist:  She needs a root canal.

Mom: Oh...WHAT?

*I cry in corner*

My mom talks really loud. We all do.
Anyways, this day happens to be one week before I leave for Barcelona which means, can't get it done. So I wait. I can still kind of chew on the right side of my mouth in January, but by March I can't touch it. And yesterday I was woken up from a wonderful nap feeling like the right side of my mouth was going to explode. It was throbbing so hard, I knew that at any second it would burst and kill me. I ended up sobbing because this went on for 15 minutes relentlessly, and it wasn't even coming in waves. It was just one constant, immense pain. So I popped as many Motrin as I could without killing myself and laid back down. I told Ian I wasn't gonna make it til the morning or to the American dentist I found. He told me, "NO", so I listened and the Motrin finally kicked in.


Today was my appointment with Dr. Joseph Vilallonga. I walk in, it's in a nice part of town, and the office is pretty big for a city office. The waiting room is huge, I think there are two, and they had a bunch of fashion magazines to read. The receptionist was Japanese, so when I walked in I was comforted by the fact that she was speaking Japanese to another woman and that this is what living in an anime would be like.

After waiting for about five minutes she called me in. Dr. Vilallonga - He. Is. Amazing. I want to trap him in a sack and drag him back to America with me. He made me feel a whole lot better about the ordeal, and told me not to worry about the root canal, that it was a simple procedure. (Other stupid dentist at home told me she couldn't do it and that I had to be recommended to another dentist who could). So he gave me a prescription of antibiotics and ibuprofen. This is when I realized I'm a doctor! I've been taking ibuprofen because I knew it would help with the pain, but it was also an anti-inflammatory, which is why it's been working so well.

This is also when I realized that healthcare here is so much cheaper. He took an x-ray, and without insurance, those things in the States cost about $100 at least. My appointment plus the x-ray came to 56E, and the root canal would only be 160E. Back at home, my dentist told me it would cost from $500-$600 without insurance. WHAT A RIP OFF. So I run along to the pharmacy thinking that it's gonna be super expensive again without insurance. A huge case of antibiotics and ibuprofen came out to 8E. What? I love Spain. That's what.

But, more updates to come on my demon tooth after May 7th. Wish me luck! If I come back toothless, I'm sorry, Ian.

ANDA!

After downing my grande iced vanilla latte, I decided I had enough energy to write this blog about my husband, Joaquin Cortes. A few questions.

1. Why is he so hot?
2. Why didn't he propose to me when he looked at me in the crowd?
3. Will I ever see him again?!

Anyways, on to the blog.

Our group ended up in the highest part of the theater, but luckily for me I was right on the edge of the balcony. The stage gets dark and suddenly, there he is, dressed so sharply in black. I wanted to tell him I loved him, but I guess I decided to play hard to get at the time. He begins to dance, and as the show goes on I find myself smiling like a little school girl. I can't suppress my cheers, much to the annoyance of the old people sitting next to me, but I didn't care. When he dances flamenco I want to die, but most of all when he flips his long, beautiful, straight hair back. Gah. I loved the act where there are seven women, topless, with long skirts starting from their hips, laying on the floor, in the dim blue lights like mermaids on the seabed. The way they crawled and slithered off stage. Beautiful and haunting. And the act that was a homage to his mother...heartbreaking. I didn't quite understand at first, who the picture was of on the screen, it must have been from the 60s or 70s, but after seeing his misery, and the way he twisted and turned into variations of the fetal position, it dawned on me. At the end, he sat down to speak to the audience, what a gentleman, and his speech ended by thanking his mother, as he looked up and blew a kiss to the heavens. I wanted to cry. All in all, the show was phenomenal, and it was worth every single damn second. 

i'm seeing this man in less than a week:

god help me not jump on the stage. also, please give me a seat close to the front.

GAHILOVESPAINANDFLAMENCO.

Box of tissues in bed - Barça with Ian

Day 1: After waking up groggy and disoriented after our escapade at Sutton, Ian and I clamor down to a cafe/restaurant across the street from my University. I can barely eat in the morning, but Ian ordered a delicious pork chop breakfast with eggs, fries, and salad. That day we bummed around our hotel room and headed to el Barrio Gótico for my birthday dinner/belated one year anni celebration at Matsuri. Ian & I, with our super sense of direction, end up getting lost for about an hour. But luckily, the restaurant was worth the hunt and we shared a bottle of sake and some yummy asian fusion cuisine. And of course, I ordered fried ice cream for dessert. 

Day 2: 

Ian & I ended up sleeping for the majority of the morning/early afternoon and finally mustered up the energy to go into town. After eating at a buffet, we took the metro up to Parc Güell (this is now my fourth time being there, I should really get paid to do tours), where it was full of street performers and people. I was starving by the time we walked around the park, so we ate lunch at the cafe overlooking the park's benches & promenade. I order una jarra de sangría and end up getting a 1.5L of it. We then make our way to Camp Nou to watch the FC Barça vs. Ath. Bilbao game. 

At the ticketbooth, my credit card wasn't working and I started to panic thinking that Ian & I might not get a chance to watch the game. They kept asking me for my passport, I didn't have it on me, why should I if I have the confirmation numbers and the seat numbers. Ian looked so worried cuz I must've had this horrible look of distress on my face, and the people in the line were getting more and more antsy. Finally, I say, Try this number. Doesn't work. Wait a minute, I thought, it must be a 6 not a 9. So we try the second number, doesn't work either. But the guy comes back with a passport number written on it, and it's exactly the second number I guessed. Adrenaline rush would have worked out in the end. This is how I passed orgo.

Anyways, the game was exciting since Barça scored four goals which, according to Ian, is a lot for a futbol game. It was funny to see all the Bilbao fans in a caged box with security guards around them. Ian was like, Why are there people in that cage thing? Oh, they're Bilbao fans... Oh sports. After the game, we try to sit down at a restaurant, but I'm already feeling the beginnings of a cold, so we leave and end up getting burgers from Quick to take back to the room. One of my favorite pastimes with Ian was, and always has been, watching anime while cuddling or pigging out. We watched the latest episode of Naruto while I sobbed and gobbled down my burger. 


Day 3: Ian & I thought breakfast was included, so at around 10AM we walk down to the buffet (tomorrow we find out that it was not, woops!). I swear, I had the best croissant I have ever tasted in my entire life, and I eat a lot of freaking croissants. It was fresh baked out of the oven, warm, flaky, buttery - just perfect. We then head back upstairs, where we promptly pass out again until the late afternoon. Finally awake, we buy tickets for "Opera i Flamenco" online, take a bus into the city, and walk around Las Ramblas. We luckily stumble upon Taller de Tapas, an amazing tapas restaurant that I recommend. I was thinking about taking Ian there before he came, and it's weird/awesome that we went there by chance since I had totally forgotten about it when he got here. During our lunch, it began to rain heavily so we decided to wait it out. Again, we get lucky because the rain slows down after about 15 minutes and totally stops soon after, allowing us to get gelato and walk around el Barrio Gótico. With the time nearing 9PM, we head to La Palau de la Música Catalana, the beautiful venue where we would watch the flamenco show. 

 

I learned about La Palau in my Catalán art class and saw pictures, but this was much more beautiful and ornate in person. Definitely worth seeing to anyone who is in Barcelona or is planning on going. Lucky moment #3, upon receiving our tickets we find out we have box seats and a perfect view of the show. Lucky moment #4, we realize that the show is only at La Palau four times in the year? And we just happened to stumbled upon tickets online that same day. The show was fantastic, and the venue and the fact I was with Ian made it that much better. After the show, we head to Burger King to get some fast food and head back to the room to watch Paranormal Activity. To anyone who knows me: Kristine + scary possession movie = not good. That's all I'll say about that.

Day 4: Exhausted, with each of us getting barely any sleep due to the stupid movie, we head downstairs and find out breakfast will cost us 14E each. Forget that. So we go back upstairs and pass out. We then make our way to the beach front  and Cava Mar for some paella. At this point, I'm already fully sick and feeling miserable. But we make the best out of it, and even fit in a peak at the MNAC at Montjuïc. 


Summary -  Best spring break ever.

Sick in bed but well enough to blog - Ibiza & Barca

So I'm sitting here in bed, sick as a dog after a week and a half of partying, hosting, tour guiding, etc. Semana Santa definitely a huge success minus a couple of setbacks. But on to the blog:

Day 1:

I woke up bright and early to pick up Steph from the airport. I feel like I know the Barcelona airport so well now, it's like a second home, and it might be my favorite after JFK. After reuniting, we lug back to my house, freshen ourselves up, and head to the beach front for some paella and frolicking. It was a gorgeous day to sit outside and enjoy good Spanish cooking, and we found the perfect restaurant with the best paella I've ever had. I had a hard time convincing Steph to like olives, but we shall see how that turns out later. In a food coma, we make our way to the shore where I find it too cold to move and Steph is already half naked. Speaking of naked, two completely nude men then walk by to our surprise. Also, to our surprise one of them...well, we know why he has the confidence to walk around like that. After heading back to my apartment, Steph & I take naps like the piggies we are, then wake up and prepare for Ibiza.

Day 2:

The flight to Ibiza was pretty short, but Steph & I still managed to pass out for almost all of it. After checking in, we head down to the beach and end up taking a nap there too. If we could make money napping, we'd be millionaires cuz we're so damn good at it. Lunch was amazing, with the delicious tapas on the beach and under the sun. It's Sunday in Ibiza, so we figure there's not much open. I think that night we stayed in, but now I'm not so sure.

Day 3: Steph & I wake up bright and early to eat breakfast downstairs. Croissants and eggs are our downfall.  We then head to the center of town to find that literally everything is closed, save a few cafes here and there. Annoyed, we walk around and stumble upon a castle, thank God. We run around the castle as if we discovered the place and succeeded in taking awesome pictures. Back to the hotel for a nap and preparation for dinner & clubbing! Dinner was good, clubbing was ultimate fail. Literally everything was closed, all the big clubs, and we found ourselves cursing the same Pacha we looked forward to so badly. We get into a taxi and tell the driver to take us to SOMETHING that's open, for goodness sake. He tells us he's bringing us to a club that's open. Is it good?, we ask. Yeah, it's a very good discoteca. Okay, fine we'll go. We walk in, and in bold letters on a wall it says, Let it rock. Basically, utter fail but our love for each other held us through. So did the long island ice teas, which didn't stay inside me for too long.

Day 4: We wake up bright and early again to eat breakfast, but end up passing out after for another few hours. Our plans for Formentera washed away, we decide to just go to San Antonio to watch the sunset at Cafe del Mar. Unsurprisingly, Cafe del Mar was closed since it's winter. Apparently, the whole island of Ibiza dies during the winter, making it a ghost town. It was freezing, so we go inside for some dinner and head back to our hotel room to rest up for tomorrow.

Day 5: Since we had bought our tickets for the ferry to Formentera the previous day, it gave us incentive to get up and not nap so much. Formentera definitely brought up my spirits, thank God something in Ibiza was worth seeing during the winter. It was cold and windy for the majority of the day, but at some points it was perfect. I can see myself loving the island if only it was 10 degrees hotter. =\ The flight back to Barcelona was so short, to our annoyance as we didn't get to nap, but we ended up clubbing that night at Opium. Thank you, Barcelona for always being reliable.

Day 6:
The next morning, I take Steph to La Tramioa for lunch and head to Parc Guell. Lots of frolicking ensued. We then went to Wagaboo for dinner, ordering fettucine w/ foie and risotto w/ foie. You can tell we hate foie gras. Otto zutz was almost a let down, but we broke it down like we always do.

Day 7: I woke up super early to pick up Ian at the airport, where he snuck up behind me and surprised me. His flight was about an hour early, so even though I got there early he was still there before me! My plans of jumping on him when I first saw him shattered, but I didn't care cuz I was holding Ian again after three months without. We head back and wake Steph up, who unfortunately wasn't snoring or sleeping in a weird position, but cuddled up into a cute ball of blanket. While she was getting ready, Ian takes out a shoe box FULL of goodies for me. Reece's cups, Reece's pieces, Tagalong Girl Scout Cookies, the works! I sat there wide eyed and ecstatic at the pot of gold (peanut butter) before me. After that, the three of us head to Txapela for some tapas, then off to sightsee! Sagrada Familia, Casa Batllo, La Pedrera, all in one day. Eff my life, but I was surprised we fit it all in. Ian & I then checked into our hotel while Steph napped at my place. That night was had dinner at La Vaca Paca, a buffet of meats and other good stuff, before heading to Groucho's and Sutton. Sutton is never a let down, and we had a blast partying it up the entire night. Back to my place, I immediately pass out until Steph's departure in the morning. We wake up, gather up her things, and I see my loved one off into a taxi. I walk back upstairs half asleep and where pass out for another four hours.

All in all, Ibiza clubbing will be saved for the summer, but Barcelona never fails to deliver. Love this city!

Struggles all day, every day to understand the deeper meaning of things other than just being satisfied with a translation.

High of 57 degrees today.

My favorite spot to study at Brandeis is upstairs in the SCC. I go for the tables in the middle, two tables, and prop up my book holder and whichever science textbook I happen to be reading that day. I can sit there for hours, scribbling intensely in my notebooks, occasionally looking up at anyone making an obnoxious noise. That room is always packed, and it's prime studying grounds at 'deis, which is why I make sure to get there early and stake my territory. If you see a black book holder, a grey & purple bookbag, & a blue asian looking pencil case - yeah that's my table, no touching.


Now that I'm in Barcelona, what new studying grounds are available for me here? It was a high of 57 degrees today, still is, so I frantically looked for a park, a garden, a bench at least to sit and read! Frustrated, I decided to settle for one of the Farggis on Passeig de Gràcia. After ordering my usual cafe con leche and croissant, I look outside and there are no free tables on the sidewalk. Ugh. But once I finished my meal, I stalked outside to investigate the scene once again, and success!, a free table. 

So, at Brandeis my coveted spot is a table/lounging chair in the SCC. At Barcelona, it's a table on Passeig de Gràcia, under the sun, in the middle of the city. Life is pretty damn good. 

I can also just pull up a chair next to my balcony & read if I choose to. Also, I am master of self-timer. 

MI SCUSI!

Rome was, to say the least, everything I hoped it would be and more. I can die happy knowing that I've seen Michelangelo's Pietá and Sistine Chapel in person. After taking an Italian Renaissance Art class at Brandeis, I began to compile a list of works that I wanted to see, and those were at the top. Unfortunately, the David and Bernini's Perseus with the Head of Medusa are in Florence and a bunch of other works are in the Lourve, but that's for the next trip! I get all giddy just thinking about Paris, but when will I see Florence? =(


Well, I'm going to try to sum up Roma as best as I can - AND WHAT THE HELL FACEBOOK WON'T UPLOAD MY PICTURES. Okay, calm down, I'm sure there's some explanation for this...Anyways, on to Roma.

Day 1:

• After waking up at 4:20 in the morning, Kathryn and I trudged down to El Prat Aeropuerto to catch a 7:10AM flight to Roma. One thing about that airport, it's HUGE but it is beautiful. And the "moving sidewalks", as Kathryn likes to call them, make life so much easier. So do the large chicken statues at the entrance. =l
• We got hustled our first meal in Rome. Figures, but my sandwich was soo delish & so was the capuccino. 
• The Vatican Museum, Sistine Chapel, and St. Peter's Basilica was so opulent and impressive. Wasn't Jesus poor though? Whatever, I won't get into that. But I'm glad someone had enough money to fund Raphael & Michelangelo. 
• Our tour guide spoke about the importance of appearance in the Roman society. You had to look well kept, meaning you had to bathe, get your hair done, work out, and look good. So I'm thinking, we can't blame the guidos for being the way they are. It's just in their freaking genes; they're wired to GTF (gym, tan, laundry - for those of you who need to watch the Jersey Shore). 

• That night we explored as many piazzas and fountains as we could. The Spanish Steps, the Trevi Fountain, and Piazza del Popolo - amazing! Rome is beautiful at night, sans the creepy alleyways, and our dinner was superb.

Day 2:

• The three other kids (two girls + one guy) in our hostel room were jackoffs. Kathryn and I had forgotten our flip flops so she asks this girl if we could borrow her flops, and we get such a stank attitude from her.
• 2.50 euros for breakfast?! Success!

• One word: Colosseum. I get it now. It's everything it's hyped up to be. No disappointment there whatsoever. And you don't need a tour guide, so don't ask for one. I think you can appreciate it without being on a tour for an hour.
• The various remains of Roman buildings, like in the Fori Imperiali or the Roman Forums were gorgeous. It might've just been the beautiful weather, but who cares!

Day 3:

• We finally, finally had a taste of italian gelato. I'm not gonna say it was life changing, but it was definitely the best ice cream I've had so far. I had two scoops: coffee & hazelnut chocolate with chocolate chips. Ugh, take me back I want some right now.
• Piazza Navona really is a charming sight. I wish I had enough money to sit in one of the outdoor patios and eat expensive italian food. Haha. It's incredible to me how talented the street artists were in Italy. Really, really impressive, but I guess when you live in the shadow of the big three it's kind of hard to sell.

All in all, Rome was a great success. I'm in love with the city and I can't wait to return. x)

Grab the two middle ones and pull!

Last Saturday was our hike into Mount Collserola to see the views and try calçots, a typical catalán dish. Other than my fear of heights, the hike was beautiful and, looking back, not as scary as I thought. We stopped a couple of times to take in the sights and take some pictures, all the while I'm thinking about how happy I am to be studying in a city like this. Barcelona is very much like New York in a few ways, but it doesn't take more than a train ride to be in a mountain or on the beach. 

We hiked for about two hours and finally reached the light at the end of the tunnel - Can Martí, a quaint catalán restaurant with a killer view of Barcelona. Upon reaching the site, I immediately noticed how much it reminded me of the Philippines: the smell of the open fire/grill roasting meat & vegetables, the plastic chairs and tables outside, and the indoor seating area covered in huge windows to enjoy the view. It was marvelous, and once again I found myself in a state of nirvana.

The entire group and I hastily sat down, put on our nifty bibs, and watched as our tour guide instructed us on how to eat the calçots. Since they grill them whole, the outside is burnt to a crisp. But once you  strip away the black outside leaves, inside is the soft, warm flesh of the calçot. Dipped into a sweet almond sauce (reminded me a lot of satee), the calçot was truly a treat. But that was just the appetizer. There was pan con tomate, tortilla española, beans, olives, and MEATS - butifarra (thick sausage) & steaks galore! The meal was huge, and neither of any of us could finish it all, but it was well worth the two hour hike. After the cafe con leche, I was sleepy but content. 

I.LOVE.MEAT.

Chicago & Sitges

So I figured I should blog about my weekend in Madrid before the wonderful thoughts I had leave me...oh wait...

Pros: Meeting up with friends for dinner & drinks, paella, Las Meninas by Velasquez, La Guernica by Picasso, Oskar's cafe con leche, the fact that we stayed at a cheap hostel for only one night, the huge "Chicago" sign that reminded me of Broadway, NYC.
Cons: The people, the weather, the hostel...

Before I start bashing Madrid, I figure we didn't have the best time because we were probably tired, cranky, cold, etc. But it was a decent first trip outside of Barcelona. The next one (ROME!) should turn out much better.

About the second week of February the festival of Carnaval begins. Traditions vary from country to country, but in Sitges (and I believe most of Spain), it's their equivalent of Halloween. Sitges is apparently the number one place to go to for Carnaval, and I believe it. A few friends & I watched the parade, which was probably about three hours long, or more, from a balcony in a hotel. It was amazing, but even better was what happened after. It was like a club on the beach: huge speakers, a DJ blasting house, electro, trance, and a mob of people going insane. WEEEE! I was in heaven, even though a few people kept touching my bunny ears. Hmph!

Cucurrucucú, paloma.

So intensive courses are over and I'm a little sad because our professor was the cutest/dorkiest Spanish guy ever. We all had to do a presentation on Spanish cinema and I chose "Hable con ella" by Pedro Almodóvar. Unlike many of his films, "Hable con ella" was very muted, sweet, and soft. It was a nice change of pace from his other raunchy movies. I got a 9.5 out of 10 on my presentation. =)


Not until recently was I nervous about my classes at the Univeristat de Barcelona. "La poesía en el siglo XX" (Poetry in the 20th century) was my first course. When I got there, it was pretty exciting and intimidating being in a class full of Barcelona natives and listening to a professor lecture in Spanish at 97 mph. She hands us a syllabus and, not even kidding, there are about 40 books in the bibliography and a ridiculously long final paper (14-15 pages). I've written a paper that long before, but never in Spanish. Ay caramba. What's worse is she starts throwing terms around like metaphysical, and I'm thinking, like, whoa slow down there, it's the first day of class. Aren't you just supposed to hand us a syllabus and tell us to read something? And I'm looking at the jackoff next to me who has this gigantic book open and is writing down all these notes as if he understands what the hell she's really saying (which he obv does). So I took out my notebook and starting jotting down random words that I caught. My other two courses Literatura y Cine en España (Literature and Cinema in Spain) and Obras Maestras del Arte Catalán (Masterworks in Catalonian Art) have great potential. 


I was sitting in all these lit and art classes, but I couldn't help but wish I was in Biochem or Physio or, g-d help me, Orgo. What has the world come to?! All I'm saying is, I cannot wait to take another bio class when I get back to Brandeis. I kind of feel like a fish out of water in this world of art. It's fun, but I'm starting to feel like I need something more concrete to think about. 

On a brighter note, the last few days, excluding today, have been gorgeous! A few friends and I walked around the Sagrada Familia area, which is always a nice time. The beach was beautiful at Barceloneta. I can't wait for it to get warmer so that I can be a beach bum. I love the ocean and the water.

Figueras - where the wind is so strong it makes you NUTS.

I knew Salvador Dalí was my favorite artist for a reason. He was a genius. He was out of his freakin mind, but a genius nonetheless!

They say that in Figueras the wind is so strong that it literally makes people crazy. During our tour of the Dalí museum, our guide led us to this huge room with a large crystal cupola as the ceiling. It was decorated to look like a theater, and in the floor was a door? He then informed us that this was Dalí's tomb, since he wanted to be buried in his "theater", surrounded by his art, and looking up at the universe (hence the crystal dome). We then all proceeded to awkwardly step around the tomb/door.

I think for a non-artsy fartsy person, it's hard to appreciate certain artists. But anyone can look at Dalí's work and know that this guy had ridiculous talent.

He didn't believe in sticking to one type of material, so he worked with almost anything. One of my favorites was this "painting" made from the pulp of live squids splashed onto canvas. He did this in 20 minutes. Twenty. And if you look closely you'll realize that it's actually a "painting" of Beethoven. Genius.

If you look closely at the painting, you'll see the image of a man, a famous bullfighter actually. Hint: He's wearing a green tie.

When Dalí got kicked out of an exclusive group of surrealist painters, he said it was okay, because he was surrealism, and everyone else was just copying him.