Spain is a vibrant and passionate country, kept this way by the passion and strength of the Spanish people. The culture can be difficult to adapt to at times, but it always simultaneously amazes me. Last night I joined the Catalans in the celebration of their patron saint, Merce. (I do not know how to put the accent over the last "e" but that is how it is really spelled). To begin, in the United States we would never have a week long celebration regarding a saint, but here most people are Catholic, and those who are not realize the importance of centuries of tradition. How different to live in a place with such history and culture! This week is the most important week of festivals for Barcelona. Have you ever seen the photos of the men wearing matching outfits creating a human tower, and then they fall into the crowd below? That happens during this week, as does the fire dancers and concerts at outdoor venues all over the city. Last night I went to a concert at the Placa Catalunya (the center of the city near my school). The metro was jam-packed with Spanish people that were my age. I think they are somewhat intimidating. The majority of them are good-looking, thin, have weird haircuts like mullets or one side of the head shaved, several piercings, and clothing that is very different from ours. I can pick an IES student out of a crowd in Placa Catalunya. Needless to say, it can be tiring to look so different all the time. The Placa was very lively, and the next band was setting up so we had time to stand around and talk, meet up with other people from the program, and buy 1 euro cervezas from the cerveza man (beer). It had been raining on and off all day, but now it was a consistent drizzle (this is the first day of poor weather I have had since I arrived almost three weeks ago). The rain did not put a damper on the night, in fact, I think it made it more fun. Once the music got started I got on Lennon's shoulders. This is to date one of the most amazing experiences I have had in Spain. On Lennon's shoulders I was a good three feet higher than everyone in the placa, and I was able to look out over the crowd of people in the rain dancing to the music, under the lights. There I was, in the middle of Barcelona, above a pulsing crowd, in the rain, listening to and watching the crowd and the music. I dismounted five minutes in, and immediately could not see the band. Who cares when you can listen? Martine, a friend of mine, and I began to weave around the people in the crowd and dance to the music. Outdoor dancing in the rain is by far preferable to the club I had gone to the night before. I think we danced for two hours. While dancing Martine and I met some people from Spain, three guys and one girl. The girl was named Urdell? And the boy was Alberto. Unfortunately they are not from Barcelona, and were just here for the festival. I don't remember the names of the other two boys, but we all had a great time dancing and trying to speak to each other in broken English and Spanish. Our departure from the concert involved many kisses on both cheeks, as is tradition here.
Being in Spain is not always all about great weather and having a good time. It can be hard to be in another country, especially as an American. Most people are very friendly, but a few are not so amicable. The Spanish people are very proud of their traditions and culture, and seem to know themselves so much more than Americans. At times it is hard to identify with them, and after awhile it becomes tiring to deal with snobby waiters, grumpy grocery cashiers, and people's stares. I wish I had the guts to pierce my eyebrow, cut my hair into a mullet, and wear what I have dubbed "Aladdin pants" (the strange pants style of the girls here - skin tight legs and a saggy butt that droops down to the knees - hence the Aladdin name). Hearing constant Spanish is interesting, but I would love to be able to order something in a restaurant without becoming embarrassed. The euro coin is also annoying, because there is no bill smaller than a five! One of the most difficult things to do here is break anything above a five, and sometimes that is difficult. When you do break a five or a ten, you can get back a handful of change - 2 or 1 euro coins. My pockets are filled with change. Usually all of these things are interesting, but when you have a bad day they are really just annoying. I am having a great time here, but I will miss Thanksgiving!
On a brighter note, I met some Spaniards. Our neighbors were drinking at the cafe below us the other night as were we, and we met Joaquim and his wife Patricia. Joaquim was very jolly with his bottle of wine, and Patricia was busy talking to her snobby nephew visiting from York. If only you could have heard the way he said York. We are still making fun of him. I also met the Concierge of the apartment building. He is this cute little old man who sits at a desk in the entrance and greets me when I come in. He is adorable and happy. His name is Hugo, and he is from Bolivia. He talked to us about Bolivia in Spanish and he mainly told us that coke is everywhere, it even grows in the streets! Our new favorite quote - "Coca en la calle! Coca en la calle!". That means "Coke in the street! Coke in the street!"... we feel a bit foolish that that is the only thing he could connect to us with. We still love Hugo anyway. Meril and I went to a club on Thursday but left after a bit, and met some boys from London on the street. We spent about an hour and a half chatting with them on the sidewalk, which was pretty funny. I also had the opportunity to speak to my friends' RA, Jorge. He is really nice and we try to speak mostly in Spanish. That can be difficult but funny. We tried to explain "awkward turtle" to him, which took about forty - five minutes (if you don't know what awkward turtle is ask someone my age). I got a chance to talk one on one with him and we had a great conversation about Spanish authors and we bonded over "Bodas de Sangre" a play I read in Spanish class in high school.
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