You know Fran is poor when...

She hasn't stepped foot inside a Zara ever since she got to BCN

No Reservations

…no, not with Anthony Bourdain. With Fran Cabugason. Oh how I badly want to have my own travel show. It’d be amazing if you get paid to travel, wouldn’t it? This has always been one of my dreams but I’m afraid my refusal to eat weird things would make me a bad host. I’m slowly working on this minor handicap though, and I think I’m getting better at it. I moved to Madrid ready to try anything, including weird food, and I’ve definitely done more of that here in BCN.

As I’ve mentioned before, Francisco LOVES fine dining. Eating well has never been my thing. I mean, I enjoy a nice delicious meal but my definition of a nice meal is completely different from Francisco’s. For me, a nice dinner would be at some overpriced fancy restaurant, usually involving chicken or pasta, which we all know you can make at home for very cheap. With Francisco, I’ve eaten things I would never imagine eating back at home: lamb, lots of fresh vegetables, and being near the Mediterranean, various types of fish and lots of seafood like navajas (razor clam), almejas (clams), mejillones (mussels), langostinos (prawns), berberechos (cockles), and ortigas (nettle). Most of the time, I didn’t even know what these things were called in English. I had to look them up in the dictionary because I’ve never seen or eaten them before in my life.

And the best things about this food – and why Spanish cuisine is so good – is that they are made so simply. Cooking them doesn’t usually involve lots of ingredients. If you have olive oil, sea salt, and a pan, you’re good to go. Dishes are also made in reasonable portions that there’s always room for some dessert and coffee, even if you had a couple of appetizers before the main course.

Another reason why it’s difficult to eat well in America is because it means spending a lot of money. Sometimes you spend a lot of money thinking you’re eating some amazing meal, but really you’re not. In the US, people indulge on a $30 steak because it’s supposed to be that expensive, when really it’s not cooked correctly or not even fresh meat. Fortunately in Spain, people can eat well for little or a lot of money. The ortigas, for example, were quite expensive: 16 Euros for a little plate. But they were fresh (and ridiculously delicious) and we had them at a restaurant right on the beach that attracts tourists. On the other hand, we had that paella at Jose’s that cost probably no more than 30 Euros and it could’ve probably fed more than the three of us; Or the roasted lamb we shared at a restaurant with two other people and it cost less than 30 Euros.

My appreciation for food and drink is also starting to grow. Francisco has taught me a lot on what makes something good or bad. For example, I just learned where you taste certain things on your tongue (sweet in the front, salty in the middle, bitter in the back, acidity on the sides). Apparently, he learned this in grade school. I don’t ever remember learning that! Knowing this has definitely made drinking wine more interesting.

Little by little, I’m becoming more open-minded with what I use to consider strange food. Next he wants me to try caracoles, or snails. I’m still thinking about that one. He also wants to take me to eat çalçots during its harvest time in January. They’re these stringy onions that are very popular in Catalunya. I believe Anthony Bourdain ate them in the Spain episode of No Reservations. I can’t wait! The closer I am to being like Anthony, the more likely I’ll fulfill my dream of being a travel host.

Week 4: A Week in the Life of Fran

I’ve survived my first month in BCN. Yay! Now that my new life is somewhat settled, here’s a glimpse of what a week is like for me:

Monday: It’s Francisco’s one day off so we make the most of it by doing as much as we can. Depending on what we need/want to do, we’ll go check out some new place, shop, hang out with people he doesn’t see much, or see a movie. One thing we never miss is eating well, his favorite thing to do on his day off. So we’ll indulge on a nice meal in some fancy restaurant. Obviously, I make him plan our day because I’m broke and I have all the time to do the things I want to do the rest of the week.

Tuesday: I have my morning café con leche at 2 de Vins, Francisco’s bar. His mom then force feeds me with either toast or torrijas or a croissant. I already feel guilty enough getting free coffee everyday that I don’t really like eating at the bar. So usually I’ll pretend I’m not hungry. But his mom is like any other mom that I think she knows that I don’t eat enough or something. The other day, she did something that was very reminiscent of my own mother.

Me: Buenas dias, Aurora.

Aurora: Que? Como estas? You want toast?

Me: No, I’m okay. Gracias.

Aurora: Did you have breakfast?

Me: Ummm well, no but really, I’m okay. I’m not hungry.

Aurora: Okay, I’ll make toast then!

After breakfast, I then stay at the bar and use the internet. I usually leave by noon before the lunch crowd arrives. At about 3:30, I’ll take the bus to BCN. Depending on traffic and whether I catch the express or regular bus, I’ll get to my school within an hour. I prepare for my classes, teach from 5:30 to 6:30, then from 7:30 to 9:30, and get home by 10:30.

Wednesday: I repeat my morning routine of coffee and internet. I take the bus at 3:30 again and teach at 5:45 to 6:45. I get home right before 8.

Thursday to Sunday: Besides my morning routine, I do absolutely nothing, or at least I don’t have anything to do. Most of the time, I’ll blog or write my long emails in my computer so I can just copy and paste them when I go to the bar the next day. I will also do laundry and clean the house, and really, there’s only so much I can do when I do it every freaking week. Aurora thinks our apartment must be super clean…it’s not. Most of the time, I’ll tag along with Francisco when he has to do business outside the bar (i.e. shopping for alcohol/food, paying vendors, going to the bank). If I’m feeling rich, I might spend money on a bus/train ticket so I can go to BCN and/or hang out with Michelle. Or sometimes, I’ll buy little necessary and cheap things for the house. I also frequently go on walks to pass time. On Sundays, I will often have lunch with Francisco’s sister and her son.

So there you have it. Pretty exciting, right? Oh why is life so ironic: when you have time, you have no money to enjoy your free time. I try to fill my spare time with random things I can think of and if I’m really, really bored, I just go across the street to 2 de Vins. If not, I just watch TV and wait for Francisco to get home, my favorite part of the day. It’s all about enjoying the best and cheap – or even better, free – things in life.

More on Spain's censorship

I’ve written about censorship in this country before and how it’s pretty much non-existent. I thought about this again the other day when I was watching the news. There was a report on obesity in Spain – which by the way does not compare to our problem in the US but they’re worried about it anyway – and they were showing images of fat people walking on the streets. To my surprise, they were not only showing the mid-section of these people, but they were showing their entire body including their faces! Ay, que verguenza!

What was even more shocking was when they reported on cancer de Mama (or breast cancer) in honor of Breast Cancer Awareness Month. They were showing images of a woman having a mammogram when all of a sudden, appeared a bunch of photos of women with only one boob, or half a boob, or no boobs at all! It totally freaked me out! I was not prepared for that at all. They definitely got the job done of making women more aware.

Oh Spain

I just received this text message from Tess:

“Dude I just saw someone carrying a jamon leg on the metro jajajaja I love Spain”

Oh Spain!

Olive-Picking

Around this time of the year, I would probably be apple-picking with my family. This year, I went olive-picking instead. Last week, one of Francisco’s regular customers, Jose, invited us to his weekend house and then to his piece of land in the mountains.

We left on a Monday night and made our way to L’Ampolla, another coastal town of Catalunya that attracts retired Europeans from the North. It took us about an hour and a half to arrive in this little town. We had a nice fresh seafood dinner, enjoyed a drink or two in a very empty bar, and spent the night in Jose’s house.

The next day, we drove up a mountain and Jose showed us his piece of land full of olive and almond trees. While Francisco and I picked olives, Jose prepared our lunch. He was making us paella. We had bought the ingredients fresh from a market just before we drove up the mountain. We had fresh clams, mussels, prawns, and oysters. The oysters were of course for appetizers, not for the paella. I’m still trying to get over my first oyster experience with Francisco back in May of this year, so I took a pass on those.

The paella process was pretty cool. I’ve seen a friend cook paella before but not like this: outside, with natural fire from wood. This time seemed more authentic. I don’t quite remember exactly how Jose made it – I was too busy picking olives! – but I’ll try and describe it as best as I can. Once the fire was ready, Jose put the chicken and rabbit (Ugh! I had no idea I’ve been eating rabbit in paella this whole time!) with chopped garlic and lots of olive oil. Then he added water and the mussels. After, he added the rice and spices. Once it was boiling, he added the prawns and clams. Then it was ready to be eaten after the rice was done. This is probably the worst description ever. Someday I will learn how to cook paella and share it with everyone.

The paella/olive-picking process was for sure an experience for me. Unfortunately, I was totally PMSing and couldn’t enjoy it the most I can. There were lots of mosquitoes who refuse to leave me alone, I was hot and bothered, and I felt gross and dirty! I was just one big hot mess. I would never survive in nature just for the fact that when I have my period, I want to be indoors – preferably my comfy house with a proper bathroom – and I just want to relax, not picking olives. There were moments where I was completely content and there were moments where I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I’m pretty sure Francisco and Jose thought I was a bit crazy at times. I won’t mind doing it again, though. It’ll just have to be planned on a more appropriate time of the month.

P.S. to my family: I really hope you froze some of those apple donuts or whatever for me. They should still be good over Christmas break.

Sitges

I love Sitges, my new favorite town in Spain. It’s one of the beautiful towns on the coast of Catalunya and it’s only about 20km aways from Barcelona.

I first went to Sitges with Francisco in June to eat at his friend’s restaurant. However, we were at one end of the town and I didn’t really see much besides the sea. This time around, I took the train and met up with Michelle. The train takes you right in the middle of the city. We spent the day walking around, shared delicious paella and then waffles with chocolate for dessert, and relaxed on the beach.

Sitges is very popular among the gay community, and with tourists looking for a day trip outside of Barcelona. Sitges also holds the Horror and Fantasy film festival every year. Apparently, it’s pretty famous and attracts a lot of Hollywood people like Quentin Tarantino. I wouldn’t know this of course since horror films scare the beejesus out of me. That weekend, the film festival was going on and there were even more people than usual, so a coffee on a terrace was the perfect cure for my people-watching obsession.

Sitges is pretty pricey, as expected with all the tourists visiting. Window-shopping is all we could really do, but it was fun anyway. I noticed there were lots of furniture and décor shops. I’m assuming they were there to serve all those people buying a weekend/summer house. Maybe someday, I’ll be one of those buyers…after I buy my house in San Sebastian, of course!

This quaint little town was simply beautiful. I really enjoyed the people, the food, the views and especially the beach. Its beach is way better than the one in Barcelona. Fortunately, Sitges is only 20 minutes away by train from El Prat. I have a feeling I’ll be going there a lot…

BBQ, Spanish style

I was very excited to have finally gone to a Spanish barbacoa, or barbecue. Francisco’s friend invited me to join about 15 other friends at his house. Like all things in Spain, it started way later than I thought it did, at 9 at night. By then it was already pretty cold outside so us girls stayed and hung out inside, while the guys grilled outside.

Like an American bbq, it involved a lot of meat – chicken, hamburgers, various sausages (no hot dogs, though). Unlike an American bbq, we didn’t put the meat in buns. We had bread of course but just regular bread, no buns. There was no ketchup or mustard. However, there were lots of fresh tomatoes, olive oil and alioli, a spicy garlicky mayonnaise. There was also lots of alcohol. So as expected, after stuffing our carnivorous stomachs, we spent the rest of the night chatting and smoking and playing drinking games.

My first Spanish barbacoa was also the first time I hung out with Francisco’s friends without Francisco. As always he had to work so I went on my own. It was nice to get to know them more and I had a lot of fun. They’re all very nice and very funny, just like all my friends in Chicago.

Apart from the minor details, not much really is different between an American and Spanish bbq. In the end, it’s about enjoying a good meal and hanging out with great people.

Appalling!

Some people seriously have major problems! I was taking the bus the other day and two men were smoking crystal meth! I was peacefully sitting there when I all of a sudden realized two men sitting just a couple feet in front of me were smoking. At first I thought they were snorting cocaine because I saw them use a long pipe made out of aluminum. But then I saw the other piece of aluminum foil where they put the drug, and a lighter that they used underneath the foil. It was like a scene out of that movie, Traffic.

This whole scene totally disturbed me. Not only by the fact that it was gross and pathetic, but also because it was in the middle of the freaking day! At 1 in the afternoon to be exact. And there were children there! Ugh. It was so sick! Of course, no one said anything. I was in the back of the bus and everyone kept looking but no one was brave enough to say anything, including me. Shit, I was not about to get beat up by stupid high gypsies! That almost happened once...I'm not gonna get myself in trouble again!

Oh the gypsies! I'm not racist and I do like to think that all people are inherently good, but it's really hard for me to see a gypsy and not think they're high or going to rob me. I guess we're all just a little prejudice...

Las Platges de Barcelona

Can you believe I've visited this city four times and not once have I ever been to the beach??!! Considering it's one of the essential things to do here, I'm pretty surprised at myself for completely missing it. I've been to the beaches outside of the city, but not here. Go figure!

As of last week, I am no longer a BCN beach virgin. Michelle, being an LA girl, frequents BCN's platges (playas/beaches in Catalan). I finally decided to go with her. Just like how Michelle described it to me, there are definitely lots of semi and fully naked people. The best is the guy who stands there, hands on his hips, fully butt naked, hoping people would just look at him. Apparently, he’s there a lot.

The beach was not too bad. It was just like any other beach, relaxing and beautiful. Although I think the beaches outside the city are still way better, I think I may have to go to the BCN beaches more often.

Week 3: Semi-employment

I actually started teaching again. The school I interviewed for called me on Monday to officially offer me a job. I was a bit nervous considering I haven’t really done it since January. My first class was with a 31-year old woman. She was nice and it was easy with her since we just talked for two hours. My second one was with a 13-year old boy. As always, children are always such a challenge for me. Thankfully, he seems like a good kid and very polite. I hope it goes well with him.

The school I’m working for is a bit interesting. It definitely makes me miss my old school in Madrid. This one is much smaller – only about 5 teachers – and I still don’t really understand how it all works. I went there to prepare for my class and no one was there. I sort of panicked since I didn’t have any background on the student and the secretary said she would be there. When the boss finally did get there, it took him a while to find the student’s file and the actual file didn’t really have much for me to work on. Their resources are also very minimal and very unorganized. I badly want to alphabetize and categorize all the books. Basically, the teachers are left to their own devices, which is good but also annoying at the same time.

I continue to hope for more private classes. I’ve noticed a lot of people have taken the strips of paper with my info from the ads I’ve posted up. I still haven’t heard from anyone but I’m keeping my fingers cross.

I’m also starting to feel kinda useless…or I just feel bad that Francisco is constantly working and I’m not doing much. Not that he makes me feel bad, I just wish I could do stuff. I wish I could at least cook for him, but we have no cooking equipment. I wish I could buy cooking equipment, but I have no money to do that or to buy things to make the house homier. It’s crazy how a lack of money can make you feel very powerless. It didn’t matter before when I only had myself to think of. This selflessness thing is really not fun.

Other than that, things are really pretty good. At the end of the day, I just gotta have a little bit of perspective. I know I’ve said this so many times, but everyone here is really nice. I spent most of the afternoon last Sunday with Francisco’s sister. She invited me over to her house for lunch, showed me her wedding (in a castle!) photos, and talked about random stuff. I also hung out with her very entertaining 4-year old son. I can tell everyone’s trying their best to make me feel comfortable and welcome. And when he’s not working, Francisco and I try to do as much as we can and we always have a good time doing it.

Slowly, I’ll get there with work and my never-ending money situation. I know I will…

Whiskey Live

Fran plus whiskey equals disaster. I don’t mind most alcohol but whiskey for me is like drinking medicine. But like a good girlfriend, I accompanied Francisco to a whiskey convention, called Whiskey Live. He got two invitations and it was on the day of his day off. So who else would go with him on a Monday except me, the girl who gets redfaced after a glass of beer and the only one available on a Monday due to a lack of stable employment.

After registering our names, two hot beautiful women in tight leather pants and super high heels greeted us as we entered the hall. They asked us a bunch of random questions and our answers somehow determined what type of whiskey we were. They then led us to a table where a man in a suit told us more about our whiskey personality. They had two kinds of whiskey. One was smoother, more fruity and light in color. The other was a bit more rough, stronger in taste, and a darker color. We tasted both to see if we preferred the one that coincided with our mini quiz results. Well, apparently, both Francisco and I are sweet and light although I personally think both tasted like ass.

After that educational experience, we just walked around and stopped at whatever table looked good. There were various types of whiskey: Scottish whiskey, Irish whiskey, Japanese whiskey, Bourbon whiskey. I, of course, stopped tasting after four or five sips of different whiskey. Really, they all taste the same: gross! Why would you want to drink something that gives you this burning sensation as it goes down your throat?

Francisco, on the other hand, got super into it. He doesn’t really know much about whiskey, but like with everything else, he’s very enthusiastic about anything food and drink related. At one point he was comparing two different kinds. He swished them in his mouth, up and down, front and back, and through his teeth. And then he and the vendor talked about it in detail – the taste, the consistency, the acidity, how long the flavor stays in your mouth, what part of the tongue gets the most taste, how it’s processed and bottled, etc. It was amazing! It’s incredible that one can only taste shit and be appalled by it all, and another can appreciate all its properties even if he still doesn’t like the drink.

The convention was amazing for me. It was interesting to see all these people who knew so much about whiskey. There were people of all kinds: men in kilts, men in suits, booby girls, shady looking barmen. I even met a fellow American, the master distillator (is this a word?) for Maker’s Mark. I honestly told him that I’ve never heard of Maker’s Mark and he was very nice and told me about it. He invited us to go to Kentucky and visit their factory.

Francisco also ran into one of his old teachers from the Hosteleria school, where he studied for three years. This guy was his cocktail teacher. He was there representing Ideal, a cocktail bar. He made us some yummy drinks. It was so good. I love watching these guys make drinks. From cutting fruit to pouring the drink, they are so professional and smooth when doing it.

I ended my Whiskey Live experience at the sausage and cheese table. Really I should have hung out there the whole time…food is more my thing. As I was walking around, I thought about some Chicago friends who would’ve probably shat their pants if they got to go. I may totally hate whiskey but I’m pretty lucky to be able to experience things that may mean nothing to some, but be a dream to others. It’s all about perspective, I guess. I hope Francisco gets invited to a cheese convention next!

Como se dice...

Sometimes I wish certain words in English can be translated into Spanish. I found myself in a situation that called for a big awwwwwkwaaaaard, which is unfortunately very hard to find an English equivalent to. I was sitting at the bar for my morning coffee, as usual, and a young woman comes up to pay for her tab.

Francisco: Hey guapa. By the way, how’s your boyfriend?

Young lady: Oh we’re not together anymore…16 years together…but it’s over.

Francisco (after a short silence): Uh uh ummm sorry.

Me (in my head): aaawwwwwkwaaaard…..

Pictures, or lack thereof

Just want to warn everyone that there will be no pictures in this blog. It’s not that I’m anti-photography or that I don’t want to reveal my pretty face J . I actually just don’t own a camera. Period. Mine broke a while ago and I have broken every other camera I’ve borrowed since then. I also cannot afford to buy a new one. So, let your imaginations run wild!

The Spanish Bar

If there is a Starbucks in every corner of a major American city, the same can be said about bars in Spanish cities…multiplied by three. Whether you live in a town of a hundred or 3 million, you will find a bar down the street. No need to go far if you’re hungry, thirsty or in dire need of a new pack of cigarettes. Spanish life revolves around the local bar or bars. Without them, life just wouldn’t be the same in this country.

A bar in Spain is so much more than just a place where people drunkenly socialize. A bar can open at the crack of dawn to serve breakfast to early laborers, and close past midnight to entertain locals. A bar has a cigarette vending machine available for both paying and non-paying customers. A bar has gambling machines almost similar to those in a Vegas casino. Most of all, in every bar you will find friends and families spending time together.

Starting with the basics, a bar, of course, would be nothing without drinks. They are in abundance in every bar. As far as alcohol goes, from beer to cocktails to wine, they will most likely have it all. They also have other bottled drinks such as soda or juice, which can be ordered with or without alcohol. Freshly squeezed orange juice is a staple in Spain – and personally, it’s the best in the world. As Valencia is one of the biggest producers of oranges, every bar has an electric juicer. Last but not the least, Spanish bars provide all Spaniards their daily dose of coffee. Whether it’s café solo (simple expresso shot), café con leche (expresso with milk), café cortado (expresso with a dash of milk), or café Americano (diluted expresso in honor of the Americans and probably the least popular), coffee flows like a river in Spain.

Food is very present as well. This can range from simple tapas that the bartenders have set on the counter for the customers to see or bigger dishes chosen from a fixed menu or a daily menu written on a chalkboard. Olives are also quite plentiful, which are harvested from the numerous amounts of olive groves in this country. People eat them with their beer, similar to Americans eating nuts with their beer. These olives are of course very natural. There’s no such thing as pitted olives. In contrast to Americans, the Spaniards will deal with having to get rid of the seed themselves.

And finally, the clients. I have to admit it disturbed me the first time I saw babies and children in a bar. Who would want to bring a child in this smoke filled, alcohol ridden atmosphere, I thought. And then it amazed me to see people in their 60s or 70s still hanging out past 10 PM. At 26, I constantly found myself wanting to go home and sleep at 11…on a Saturday! What’s even more impressive is the fact that it’s rare to see borrachos in the bar. I always wondered, where are the belligerent men who always feel the need to pick a fight when they’re drunk? Or where’s the sloppy wasted girl falling on her ass? Why is there no one making a fool out of themselves???

Then I realized I’m in Spain, a country where life revolves around eating and drinking, everything starts later, and families actually enjoy each other’s company. It’s rare to see Spaniards walking while eating and drinking. People don’t go to McDonald’s or Burger King because they have no time. Spaniards savor every bite and every sip. You’ll see people sit at the bar for hours and leave sober. The point of drinking is not to get drunk, but to enjoy something refreshing while distressing and hanging out.

Since everything starts later in Spain, the later people get tired and get ready for bed. Most will be hanging out past 10 just because they didn’t have dinner until 9. To go to sleep before 12 is almost a crime. Hence the presence of both young and old in bars way past most American’s bed time.

As for the babies and children, it still bothers me some times – mostly because I hate the occasional screaming of toddlers. But in the end, it’s nothing different from bringing your kids to a restaurant. It’s a good way for the families to sit and eat together when neither mom or dad want to cook, or when they want some good adult fun with their friends without having to ditch the kids. With the small number of wasted borrachos and not so shady atmosphere, the Spanish bar is an excellent gathering place for all.

Week 2: Positive Thinking

I have realized that it takes me a good week to really get my bearings in a new place. On those first 5 days of living somewhere new, I always feel like I can’t quite be myself and just be comfortable. Even if it’s as simple as making a sandwich or using the bathroom, I feel like I’m in the way. The worst is that my anal retentiveness and mild OCD comes out. I feel like everything is dirty and nothing will be clean unless I clean it my way. By day 6, I feel a little more mentally settled and my surroundings don’t seem so strange – and dirty – anymore. By day 7, I realize what a freak I’ve been. I get so sick of the unsettled feeling that I make myself snap out of it. The first week of adjustment is then followed with lots of positive thinking.

I continued to apply for teaching jobs on Tuesday. EBC corrected their mistake and sent my resume to BCN schools. Wednesday, I decided to pay 10 euros to a company that sends your resume to ALL English schools in BCN. I wasn’t sure about the 10 euros but I had nothing else to lose. By that afternoon, I got my first call about a job. Unfortunately the first thing they ask me is if I have a work permit. Damn it! I started to worry again but decided not to think about it too much. Thursday, I decided to look for non-teaching jobs that might be able to provide me with a job and a work permit. I spend about five hours researching and sending my resume. Only one responded within those five hours and again, they asked for a work permit. I decided to take a break for the day as to not stress myself out more. Later, I just happen to check my email and see a message from a school for an interview.

So on Friday, I go to BCN and have the interview. It was pretty successful. I got two classes, one hour each, with two different children. The pay is not so good and two hours a week is nothing, but beggars can’t be choosers, right? I think it’s a good start and hopefully they’ll have more classes in the next coming weeks. Plus now I feel better about taking in private classes since I’ll have the school’s resources available to me.

As for our piso, or apartment, we’re working on it slowly. Our bedroom is definitely more like a bedroom, we just got this enormous entertainment furniture for the front room, and I’ve slowly bought cleaning supplies – ones that I prefer. I think we’ll need to work on the kitchen next; I still have yet to cook something. And I’ve cleaned the house as best as I could. Yay!

I’m also starting to adjust to everyone’s accents and way of speaking. You know you’re not fluent yet when it still takes time to understand the language with various accents. With Francisco, I don’t have many problems for some reason. Some, on the other hand, seem to mumble, or speak super fast and use a lot of colloquial expressions, or they simply speak with a Catalan accent. Understanding them better has also slowly improved my relationships with them. A good example would be Francisco’s mom. At first I didn’t really understand her so I don’t think we really knew how to interact. We’ve been talking a lot more this past week and we’re starting to get along better (not that we didn’t before; we just didn’t communicate well). And best of all, she feeds me!

On Friday also came my first visitors. Lindsey, a friend of Ebs’, arrived in BCN with her mom. They were leaving for a Mediterranean cruise the next day. We enjoyed a nice menu del dia and walked around until we were exhausted. I wish I could’ve shown them more of the not so touristy side of BCN, but unfortunately I myself don’t know much about it yet. It was nice seeing fellow Midwesterners and it was nice being updated on American things I’ve missed just in one week.

So the first week totally blew, but the second was much better. Let’s hope the third is awesome. Maybe the gods will bring us a nice big comfy couch and a flat TV!... ok and maybe more classes for me.