on the home stretch

It has come down to one of my final days here in Barcelona. As excited as I am to see my family and friends I already feel nostalgic for the wonderful summer I had here. I still cannot fathom how fast these (almost) two months flew by.

As my classmates and I prepare our last dinner together, a pot luck to be more specific, memories from this summer are already taking center stage in my mind.

Last night a few friends and I walked to the Gothic Quarter to seek out a salsa bar that we had heard of from some other acquaintances. Apparently, salsa lessons went from 11-12 and the bar in the place would open soon after. Of course we all jumped on the salsa bandwagon, eager to involve ourselves in something very Spanish.

As we made our way down there, we learned that the salsa lessons had been, in fact, an hour earlier therefore we had unfortunately missed the opportunity. Down the road was a hole-in-the- wall bar with live music until 3. A few of us were intrigued, so we entered.

The first performance, to me, lacked the entertainment I had been looking for. It consisted of a few guys from the UK who played guitar and saxophone and sang more American alternative music. The vocals and tune in general were quite catchy, but the guitar talent was lacking. To my other friends, he was amazing. Having a few friends as extremely talented musicians, I hold high standards for guitar players. An extremely personal and biased opinion, but regardless it was very fun to see someone live. I give much credit to anyone who can preform well in front of masses of people.

The next few performances were much better. A few guys played guitar and sang Spanish raggae and alternative music. I really enjoyed this. I finally felt like I was in Spain. No more American music existing in the atmosphere. Amazing.

We had to leave early due to a final exam in the morning, and as we walked out we were harassed by a group of guys who were scolding us for leaving before the music ended.

"Why are you leaving? This is authentic Spanish music you're missing out on!" he exclaimed.

As I justified myself with a pathetic excuse of "exam manana" (exam tomorrow) he shook his head in disgust, appauled that we would miss out on the next few performances.

For some final suggestions, I highly, highly recommend seeking out hole in the wall places that reside in less touristic areas. Being in a city where tourists are so prevalent, it is extremely easy to become caught up in it. Yes, it is in your comfort zone, but no it will not give you the study abroad experience you are looking for.

The point of studying abroad is to act and feel as though you are in a foreign culture. To me,the clubs and tourist activity is extremely enjoyable at times, but it will only get you so far in terms of enhancing the cultural immersion one always hopes to experience in a foreign country.

Seek out the underground bars. Take a stroll to the gothic quarter. There's a whole different life over there. It strays away from the tourist pull that exists in La Ramblas and around the beach. It feels... real. It feels like a true experience.

Take some salsa lessons, listen to music where you can't understand the lyrics, spend some time with genuine spanish people. Use that broken up spanish to the best of your ability! That will make your trip one hundred and fifty percent worth it.

If there is one thing I have learned in Barcelona, it is that it is all about stepping out of your comfort area, and it is all about seeking out the opportunity to do so. Especially in such a touristic city.

Missing you already, Spain.

Viva Espana!

Congratulations to my temporary home for defeating the Netherlands in the World Cup final game. Being their first world cup victory, it was naturally an extremely exciting time for all Espana fans.

As Iniesta found the net in the last minutes of overtime, the entire crowd accompanying me at George Payne's bar went wild with excitement. The last minutes ticked down to zero and the energy in the atmosphere only grew stronger. There was a prevailing sense of community at that moment which I had hoped to feel at such a time. Having felt out of place the first few times I went out with my American friends to watch the games, receiving glares of intense patriotism from inhabitants of Barcelona, none of that nonsense seemed to matter anymore. The bar blasted songs to make it feel like a night club while flashes of red and yellow jerseys lit up the atmosphere as we all jumped up and down to the music. Spanish flags were waving in the air.

"I've got a feeling, woo-woo, that tonight's gonna be a good good night" sang the black eyed peas.

And such a good night it was. Fireworks lit up the streets, flags continued to wave, and mass crowds of people of all kind filled up Las Ramblas and la playa(or in english, the mediterranean).

One of my guy friends and I took a walk to the beach and sat with a group of Spainards playing guitar by the water. Their aloofness was nonexistent. Genuinely great vibes. Everyone was extremely ecstatic of Spain's victory. The community I had been searching for was there. Even if just for the night it didn't matter. It was priceless.

It's interesting to me how these types of major events can create such strong ties for a nation. In Amsterdam, I was talking with my waitress who was from South Africa. She was explaining to us how there has developed a national sense of community and perpetual friendliness that was previously extremely nonexistent in Johannesburg.

This type of entertainment has the ability to create such beneficial changes in a country and that is a beautiful thing to me. I could sense it even in Spain, where after they defeated the Netherlands they were extremely tolerant of anyone..... even us "stupido americanos".

So, on that note, cheers to Spain. Cheers to good vibes. Cheers to "viva espana". I can still hear the horns blowing, I can still hear the fireworks set off. No one's done celebrating. Not for a while.

11 days left now. In awe of time's ability to cruise.

The Dam

It's 7:19 pm and the sun is still beaming like it's noon... it won't set for another few hours now...that's how it works here in Spain. The days seem to go on forever. It's been a wonderful weekend. I spent a few days in Amsterdam, Netherlands with a few of my classmates/friends and experienced the life of the city. Canal tours, Ann Frank's house, and exploration of famous landmarks portraying their culture was a part of a wonderful experience. A few of my friends and I stayed in a hostel in a small room with seven other strangers. It was hotter than the Arizona desert because of the lack of air conditioning or fans, a dirty bathroom was shared between the ten of us and ten small beds were squeezed into a room no bigger than my hotel room here at the Citadines in Barcelona.

At first I was extremely shocked and uncomfortable. My best friend and I shared the same feeling when walking into a room full of nomadic guys aged anywhere from twenty to thirty. The thought of sharing a bedroom with these strangers definitely made for a significant amount of apprehension. Sure enough, though, we got through it and it ended up being just the experience that I needed. It's not imperative to live in your full comfort zone all of the time. I am so used to such a zone, living in very affluent and sheltered areas at home, at school in Boston, and even here in Las Ramblas, Barcelona. Being pushed out of your comfort area is the most amazing part of being nomadic. And that is just how I felt this weekend.

Being away also made Barcelona feel like home. At times when I was feeling a bit uncomfortable, I felt nostalgic for the life I left in Spain. This was a surprise to me because it took me a while to get comfortable here in Spain, especially with the sense of American hatred I had felt by the locals. Sure enough, Spain has become something familiar, and it felt very close to the way my home does when I am away for a long period of time. It was an exciting feeling for me because I am becoming genuinely attached to the city. It's crazy how fast you can feel another place is equivalent to home.

It's quite a shame that I only have about 2 and a half weeks left... time is flying faster these days. I've known this for a while and my experience in Spain justifies my theory.

I suggest traveling to different places to anyone who studies for a long period of time in Europe. It is a beautiful feeling experiencing different languages, culture, and customs within a two hour plane ride away from Spain. I am not used to this feeling in the states. If i fly two to three hours I can land somewhere in Georgia or Florida, where languages and where customs (although a bit different) are extremely similar to mine. It is a great feeling here. You'll learn to, naturally, prefer some countries over another, as I did Spain over Amsterdam, but having the chance to live in it, even just for a few days, is truly an extraordinary opportunity.

For you, Pop.

You're always with me, pop pop. I can feel it.

It has been a little more than a month since you left us yet I walk the streets of Barcelona, sit by the mediterranean, hike to the highest peak in the city and I can still sense your presence everywhere.

You are as infinite as the sky and the mediterranean sea seem to be.

Always wearing your birth stone around my neck.

Love you forever.

"One Green Salad with Ham and Cheese"

What an eventful weekend it has been here in Barcelona.

Friday ended just as any other friday would in this chaotic city. Lunch, late dinner, parties until the morning.

After my last class on Friday, I went with a few friends to a small cafe across the road from campus. It is here where I order my new favorite post-class lunch: A big green salad with rolled up ham and cheese. One of my friends/classmates is much more fluent than I am in Spanish and therefore had made friends with the two waitresses before introducing me to the cafe. As they enhance his spanish, he attempts to teach them common and relative phrases in English. "Hi, how are you doing?" and "Thank you" are two that I had heard him teach one of the waitresses at first. It baffled me how difficult it was for this woman to process, in my opinion, such simple sentences.

I then realized how difficult it has been, for me, to remember simple phrases such as asking the meaning of menu items, asking for the check, etc. I remembered how rewarding it was to be able to communicate in another language successfully. Such simple english phrases, to me, were very difficult for this woman to retain.

After placing our order in the kitchen, the waitress walked back into the dining area and yelled

"One green salad with Ham and Cheese", simultaneously wearing a large smile and giving us the thumbs up sign. She had successfully placed an order to the kitchen in English.

As simple and easy as it may have primarily seemed to me, I grew a significant amount of respect for this waitress who was, for once, putting in a solid effort to learn OUR language. So often an American will have to conform to the norms of Spanish society in a restaurant while having to deal with rolled eyes and bitter attitudes from waiters/waitresses who remain impatience with our scrappy use of spanish. This particular waitress is one of the few exceptions who is extremely happy to hear us trying to learn her language while in return making an effort to learn a minority language in her city.

It felt extremely relieving to experience such an occurrence that may seem miniscule to any outside party. It's comforting to know that there are locals who genuinely enjoy cultural immersion with American inhabitants.

On to my third week of class. It is unbelievable how fast the six weeks are moving.

buenas noches!

Antonio Gaudi's Park Guell, Barcelona

La Noche de San Juan

"From early morning on June 23 until the sun rises on June 24, many towns in Spain celebrate the longest day of the year and shortest night. Tradition, originating in the pagan rituals of the summer solstice, dictates that great bonfires be built representing the power of the sun and to help it revitalize its energy. People dance and jump around the fires to purify themselves and to protect themselves from the demons'(the night) influence."

This past Thursday was the day of St. John the Baptist, one of the largest celebrations in Spain. Wednesday night consisted of a massive party that occupied the entire strip of beach at the Barcelonete stop on the metro, with an atmosphere full of people, fire, fireworks, liquor, and the like. Although previously warned by our AIFS advisors to stray away from the madness, my classmates and I couldn't bare to miss out on such a festive opportunity.

Cava, the traditional sparkling white wine so prevalent in Spain, is the most consumed beverage on this night. Naturally, my roommate and I jumped on the Cava bandwagon and bought a bottle pre-celebration. After celebrating a bit with our fellow American classmates, we took the adventure down to the beach.

It was just as described by all of my professors. Madness indeed. Fireworks were being blasted off by the minute and restaurants framing the shore turned into mini clubs, the alternative hot spot from the beach. The only disappointment I had was missing out on seeing the correfoc, where groups of Spainards dress as devils and light a parade of fireworks for others to run, dance, or do whatever they please under, while evidently using extreme caution.

So why is this celebration so important? Why is it more significant than just one huge party? And what does John the Baptist represent on such an occasion, you may wonder.... Well, to paraphrase the Universidad Autonoma De Barcelona Newsletter:

"St John the Baptist is known as the Precursor of Christ, rebirth and the light to the world, which explains the link to the solstice. Bonfires were lit to symbolize the light of the World.....

Water also has a special significance in the night of St. John--the Baptist. It represents prosperity, abundance and fertility."

This may explain the importance of a celebration close to the water and the abundance of fire. Although it has a reputation for a night of chaos, everything remains very symbolic.

The most similar celebration I could tie this to in the U.S is our Independence Day. My professors agreed on the similarity. This celebration was a bit different though. It was much more out of control. We were advised to bring nothing else but our metro pass and any amount of euros sufficient enough to get through the night. The amount of theft at this celebration is even worse than it is on a normal day on Las Ramblas,which is still a pretty large amount. Two girls in my group had some of their belongings stolen right out of their lap on this night. This reminded me to be extremely careful with my valuables. For a while, when I began to get comfortable in the Barcelona atmosphere, I became a bit more relaxed about clutching onto my wallet and phone wherever I went. The thefts that happened to my classmates were a huge wake up call for me.

All in all, it was an extremely fascinating night. Although I cut the night a little before sunrise, I still had a fantastic time immersing myself in this country's largest celebration.