I didn't expect leaving Sevilla to be difficult. But it was. I was literally crying as I said goodbye to my host family. They really have treated me as a member of their family, and are very loving people. I'm definitely going to miss them.
On the drive home, I couldn't help but compare everything to Sevilla (well, Europe in general). Everything just seems much more beautiful over there. For me, that's saying a lot, especially since I've always thought Seattle is a beautiful city. I looked at the skyscrapers and, for once, thought they looked quite ugly. I looked at the Fremont bridge and thought it was nothing compared to the bridge in Triana. I looked at the houses on Queen Anne and thought they were nothing like the view of Lisbon. But it's not just the buildings and scenery that strike me the most; everything seems livelier in Europe.
If there's one thing I've come to appreciate, it's the perspective that the Spaniards have about work. No, the Spaniards are not lazy because they take siestas. Spaniards work only to live. Americans, on the other hand, live only to work. It seems like the Spaniards are happier and carefree, because what's most important isn't their careers, but their friends and family. They really do seem to be enjoying life more. That's the complete opposite of what I'm used to: I study and work so hard in attempt to get grades, but it drains me and the results aren't always satisfying. In a way, study abroad has changed my perspective in terms of my academic career.
I'm not completely sure how I feel about being at home. I've been in a bit of a melancholic state. I'm going to miss hearing Spanish all the time. I've also come to be bothered by certain American accents (especially the Valley girl one), which I obviously can't avoid here. I've gotten used to thinking more in Spanish, but I'm afraid I'll lose what I've acquired in Spain.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
Near the end
I apologize for not having updated earlier. I've been busy studying for exams which, thank goodness, have recently ended. I have a week left before I leave, and it just seems so soon. It always amazes how quickly time flies. Some of my friends have been dying to go back, due to some bad experiences here (which I can relate to), but I know I won't want to leave when the time comes.
I still remember when I arrived here, and how uncomfortable I was with my spoken Spanish. Sure, I've taken years of Spanish, but I've never had a chance to practice it, nor did I know what a Spanish accent from Spain sounded like (other than the lisp thing). I would like to say my Spanish has gotten better, but I can't hide my American accent. At the least I can say that my vocabulary has expanded, and I speak with a bit more fluidity.
Integrating into the culture has been interesting, to say the least. The andaluces are known to be warm and welcoming, but it's not always the case when you're minority. Some of my friends here have been scarred by the racist treatment they've gotten here, either through comments, staring, and even stalking. Because of this, a lot of them have a very negative image of Sevilla, and they complain about it all the time. But I don't think being a racial minority is exactly the reason for the treatment; I think anyone who's different (including Americans and other Europeans) can be a victim of attack.
I have had a handful of racist and ignorant comments thrown at me too. For one thing, sometimes when I walk down the street, some guys will try to get my attention by greeting me with “chinita” or “ni hao ma” or “konnichawa.” One time some guy on a bike purposely turned around just to greet me with “konnichwa.” You could say that they're just trying to be friendly, but it's definitely not friendly when they do to mock me or “my people.” Another time some guys greeted me with “hola,” but I didn't respond, so they spoke in some made-up Chinese-sounding-like language to try to talk to me. Sometimes at night I walk quicker and try to hide my face just so that people won't hassle me.
Sometimes when I enter or exit the apartment building, I feel that the neighbors are surprised to see that an Asian is living among near them. There are Chinese people in Sevilla, though most of them do the same thing: restaurants or little bazaars. But I swear, every time I enter one of the Chinese shops, there's always a customer who asks me, “¿Cuánto vale?” (How much does it cost?) When I tell them that I don't work there, they just give me a blank stare before they get it. I wasn't really offended, but it definitely goes to show the stereotypes that people have here. There are also some Chinese restaurants here, but the majority lack customers. My host dad tells me that he doesn't trust the Chinese restaurants, because he thinks that they don't generate enough trash; that is, he thinks that they reuse the food that has been previously served. I don't know where he gets this idea from, but it seems that the pride that the sevillanos have goes hand-in-hand with some xenophobia.
The reason why I don't hate Sevilla, nor am I dying to go home to my “land of diversity,” is because I am genuinely interested in the culture, largely because of flamenco. (But speaking of stereotypes, because the Japanese are probably the biggest fans of flamenco, usually there are usually handful of them at the flamenco studios, so people usually assume that I'm also Japanese.) I think you can earn a lot of respect and friendliness by showing interest in the culture. You just have to be open-minded. Take the Feria for instance. It's known as a festival that only the sevillanos understand. Most people from my program just decided to travel instead. Some of my friends who stuck around thought it was amusing that the sevillanos got so excited about the Alumbrado (the lighting of the entrance gate) of the Feria. The lights weren't that big nor that spectacular, especially compared to what you see in Las Vegas or Times Square. But the Alumbrado isn't important because of what you see, but because of what it symbolizes – that is, the opening of the Feria. I went to the Feria for three days straight, extremely self-conscious of myself in my traje de flamenca, since I'm clearly not sevillana. Some people did stare at me, but I also had a lot of fun experiences, since I was willing to put myself out there.
Another cultural conflict stems from the fact that most Spaniards like to talk a lot. That especially includes my host family. I'm usually quiet, and I hate forcing myself to make conversation. I do try to talk during the lunch with the family, but sometimes I really have nothing to say. (Thank God that Andrea keeps the conversation going!). The silence can feel awkward. One time my host dad called me out during lunch, by saying that I was quiet (at the moment), and I responded by saying that I normally am quiet. I guess it's hard for him to understand. I do miss being with the people who know me and accept me for the way I am.
I don't want to leave, especially since I hate saying goodbye, and I might never see some people again. Study abroad was an escape for me... from what, I can't actually explain. Still, I can't really call it an escape. I basically abandoned one life of routines, and picked up another. The passage of time has also been daunting. It feels like time back home has stopped, while my life here has been in a different dimension. Of course, time hasn't stopped, and I know I will disoriented when I go back home and to school. I haven't come to terms that I'm now a senior.
I'm not really sure how to conclude this. It's been an interesting experience, but a good one overall. I think I will come back to the Sevilla in the future, though I know it won't be the same.
I will leave you with a video of my flamenco teacher, Rafael Campallo:
I still remember when I arrived here, and how uncomfortable I was with my spoken Spanish. Sure, I've taken years of Spanish, but I've never had a chance to practice it, nor did I know what a Spanish accent from Spain sounded like (other than the lisp thing). I would like to say my Spanish has gotten better, but I can't hide my American accent. At the least I can say that my vocabulary has expanded, and I speak with a bit more fluidity.
Integrating into the culture has been interesting, to say the least. The andaluces are known to be warm and welcoming, but it's not always the case when you're minority. Some of my friends here have been scarred by the racist treatment they've gotten here, either through comments, staring, and even stalking. Because of this, a lot of them have a very negative image of Sevilla, and they complain about it all the time. But I don't think being a racial minority is exactly the reason for the treatment; I think anyone who's different (including Americans and other Europeans) can be a victim of attack.
I have had a handful of racist and ignorant comments thrown at me too. For one thing, sometimes when I walk down the street, some guys will try to get my attention by greeting me with “chinita” or “ni hao ma” or “konnichawa.” One time some guy on a bike purposely turned around just to greet me with “konnichwa.” You could say that they're just trying to be friendly, but it's definitely not friendly when they do to mock me or “my people.” Another time some guys greeted me with “hola,” but I didn't respond, so they spoke in some made-up Chinese-sounding-like language to try to talk to me. Sometimes at night I walk quicker and try to hide my face just so that people won't hassle me.
Sometimes when I enter or exit the apartment building, I feel that the neighbors are surprised to see that an Asian is living among near them. There are Chinese people in Sevilla, though most of them do the same thing: restaurants or little bazaars. But I swear, every time I enter one of the Chinese shops, there's always a customer who asks me, “¿Cuánto vale?” (How much does it cost?) When I tell them that I don't work there, they just give me a blank stare before they get it. I wasn't really offended, but it definitely goes to show the stereotypes that people have here. There are also some Chinese restaurants here, but the majority lack customers. My host dad tells me that he doesn't trust the Chinese restaurants, because he thinks that they don't generate enough trash; that is, he thinks that they reuse the food that has been previously served. I don't know where he gets this idea from, but it seems that the pride that the sevillanos have goes hand-in-hand with some xenophobia.
The reason why I don't hate Sevilla, nor am I dying to go home to my “land of diversity,” is because I am genuinely interested in the culture, largely because of flamenco. (But speaking of stereotypes, because the Japanese are probably the biggest fans of flamenco, usually there are usually handful of them at the flamenco studios, so people usually assume that I'm also Japanese.) I think you can earn a lot of respect and friendliness by showing interest in the culture. You just have to be open-minded. Take the Feria for instance. It's known as a festival that only the sevillanos understand. Most people from my program just decided to travel instead. Some of my friends who stuck around thought it was amusing that the sevillanos got so excited about the Alumbrado (the lighting of the entrance gate) of the Feria. The lights weren't that big nor that spectacular, especially compared to what you see in Las Vegas or Times Square. But the Alumbrado isn't important because of what you see, but because of what it symbolizes – that is, the opening of the Feria. I went to the Feria for three days straight, extremely self-conscious of myself in my traje de flamenca, since I'm clearly not sevillana. Some people did stare at me, but I also had a lot of fun experiences, since I was willing to put myself out there.
Another cultural conflict stems from the fact that most Spaniards like to talk a lot. That especially includes my host family. I'm usually quiet, and I hate forcing myself to make conversation. I do try to talk during the lunch with the family, but sometimes I really have nothing to say. (Thank God that Andrea keeps the conversation going!). The silence can feel awkward. One time my host dad called me out during lunch, by saying that I was quiet (at the moment), and I responded by saying that I normally am quiet. I guess it's hard for him to understand. I do miss being with the people who know me and accept me for the way I am.
I don't want to leave, especially since I hate saying goodbye, and I might never see some people again. Study abroad was an escape for me... from what, I can't actually explain. Still, I can't really call it an escape. I basically abandoned one life of routines, and picked up another. The passage of time has also been daunting. It feels like time back home has stopped, while my life here has been in a different dimension. Of course, time hasn't stopped, and I know I will disoriented when I go back home and to school. I haven't come to terms that I'm now a senior.
I'm not really sure how to conclude this. It's been an interesting experience, but a good one overall. I think I will come back to the Sevilla in the future, though I know it won't be the same.
I will leave you with a video of my flamenco teacher, Rafael Campallo:
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Las Cruces de Mayo
Andrea has a friend named Angel who lives in Lebrija, a pueblo outside of Sevilla. They have their own festival called Las Cruces de Mayo, so we decided to check it out. Lebrija is definitely smaller and quieter than Sevilla, but it has it's own charm. Angel's house was quaint too. His family has a patio, where we danced some sevillanas and ate our dinner. Angel's second cousin, Isabel, and his friend, Consol, also came by. They happen to study English, so we spoke in a mix of English and Spanish. They also taught us some useful expressions, such as “Los pilotos se han encendido” (aka “you're nipping”).
During the festival, the lebrijanos dance the Sevillanas in little patios. It's similar to the casetas in the Feria, but everything's outside and has a very folkoric feel. One person after another sings the sevillanas. Angel's and Isabel brought their own instruments with them. One of the instruments was a caña, which is a large wooden stick which you hit between your thumb and index finger. The other instrument was an almirez, which is basically a mortar, and you use the pestal to hit it. It sounds like a bell. I've gotten better at playing these instruments, but I just clapped along most of the time.
The cruces (the crosses, but basically refers to the sites of the festivities) are beautifully decorated with flowers and religious images. The lebrijanos have their own verison of the sevillanas (called the sevillanas corraleras). The music is slightly faster and the dance has a slight bounce to it.
At the first cruz, I danced quite a few times, especially with Andrea:
(Notice the bouncy couple in the back)
It's not easy to hear when the music starts, since the singing isn't very clear and not every instrument joins in at the same time. At one point, some guy asked me to dance, which was fun. The next cruz was almost empty, and one of the men was literally begging us to stay, have a few drinks, and dance a bit. After I danced, some guy yells, how is it possible that “la china” (the Chinese girl – aka me) dances the sevillanas like a sevillana? There was kind of an awkward silence, and everyone was staring at me. I just shrugged my shoulders and waited for the music to start again. Then someone starts singing a sevillana about the “la china,” and I wasn't sure to take it as a joke or be offended. The last cruz we went to was filled with a ton of people. It was difficult to dance on the patio. At this point, it was about 4 o'clock in the morning so people were already drunk. Somehow I got passed from one random person to another to dance the sevillanas, and before I knew it, they wanted to take pictures with me.
I guess whenever I feel crappy about my dancing, I should just head to some random pueblo and dance the sevillanas.
During the festival, the lebrijanos dance the Sevillanas in little patios. It's similar to the casetas in the Feria, but everything's outside and has a very folkoric feel. One person after another sings the sevillanas. Angel's and Isabel brought their own instruments with them. One of the instruments was a caña, which is a large wooden stick which you hit between your thumb and index finger. The other instrument was an almirez, which is basically a mortar, and you use the pestal to hit it. It sounds like a bell. I've gotten better at playing these instruments, but I just clapped along most of the time.
The cruces (the crosses, but basically refers to the sites of the festivities) are beautifully decorated with flowers and religious images. The lebrijanos have their own verison of the sevillanas (called the sevillanas corraleras). The music is slightly faster and the dance has a slight bounce to it.
At the first cruz, I danced quite a few times, especially with Andrea:
It's not easy to hear when the music starts, since the singing isn't very clear and not every instrument joins in at the same time. At one point, some guy asked me to dance, which was fun. The next cruz was almost empty, and one of the men was literally begging us to stay, have a few drinks, and dance a bit. After I danced, some guy yells, how is it possible that “la china” (the Chinese girl – aka me) dances the sevillanas like a sevillana? There was kind of an awkward silence, and everyone was staring at me. I just shrugged my shoulders and waited for the music to start again. Then someone starts singing a sevillana about the “la china,” and I wasn't sure to take it as a joke or be offended. The last cruz we went to was filled with a ton of people. It was difficult to dance on the patio. At this point, it was about 4 o'clock in the morning so people were already drunk. Somehow I got passed from one random person to another to dance the sevillanas, and before I knew it, they wanted to take pictures with me.
I guess whenever I feel crappy about my dancing, I should just head to some random pueblo and dance the sevillanas.
Monday, May 4, 2009
La Feria
Just wanted to greet you all "in person" :)
(Excuse my awkwardness)
The Feria (this year, from April 28th to May 3rd) is a basically a week of festivities for the sevillanos. The women dress up like gitanas (gypsies) and people move around in horse-drawn carriages (or mount the horses themselves). It's a spectacular explosion of color. In the fair grounds, many casetas (tents) are set up, where the people eat, drink, and dance the sevillanas. Many of the casetas are private, so you would have to know someone to get in. Luckily, Andrea and I know are friends with some sevillanos, so we managed to get in to some casetas.
Here's a quick tour of the fairgrounds:
(Excuse my fast panning)
The rebujito (a mix of alcohol with Sprite) is a popular drink during the Feria. Apparently, it's very refreshing, so it's easy to consume a lot without even realizing it. But given my extremely low alcohol tolerance, it only took me two cups to start feeling the effects. The heat rose up to my face, and it got to the point where I couldn't see anything except the color red. It was quite scary actually. I collapsed at one point, and the next thing I knew I'm sitting in a chair, and some lady is telling me to open my legs, as she attempts to stick my head in between my legs. Eventually I regained my vision and the lady told me not to worry, that she'll take care of me. I really appreciated her kindness. After drinking some water, I was on the move again.
As my host father has told us, the Feria is something that's very sevillana, something's that hard for foreigners to understand. But Andrea and I didn't just watch the Feria, we participated in it, especially since we were dressed in our trajes de flamenca. We also know how to dance the sevillanas, which made it more fun. Since it's obvious that I'm not from around here (you know, being Asian and all), a lot of people were confused that I could dance the sevilllanas. Then when they asked me where I learned it, they were even more surprised that I learned the sevillanas in the United States. I'm actually am kind of glad that I do know the sevillanas, because I felt more accepted into the culture.
The Feria (this year, from April 28th to May 3rd) is a basically a week of festivities for the sevillanos. The women dress up like gitanas (gypsies) and people move around in horse-drawn carriages (or mount the horses themselves). It's a spectacular explosion of color. In the fair grounds, many casetas (tents) are set up, where the people eat, drink, and dance the sevillanas. Many of the casetas are private, so you would have to know someone to get in. Luckily, Andrea and I know are friends with some sevillanos, so we managed to get in to some casetas.
Here's a quick tour of the fairgrounds:
The rebujito (a mix of alcohol with Sprite) is a popular drink during the Feria. Apparently, it's very refreshing, so it's easy to consume a lot without even realizing it. But given my extremely low alcohol tolerance, it only took me two cups to start feeling the effects. The heat rose up to my face, and it got to the point where I couldn't see anything except the color red. It was quite scary actually. I collapsed at one point, and the next thing I knew I'm sitting in a chair, and some lady is telling me to open my legs, as she attempts to stick my head in between my legs. Eventually I regained my vision and the lady told me not to worry, that she'll take care of me. I really appreciated her kindness. After drinking some water, I was on the move again.
As my host father has told us, the Feria is something that's very sevillana, something's that hard for foreigners to understand. But Andrea and I didn't just watch the Feria, we participated in it, especially since we were dressed in our trajes de flamenca. We also know how to dance the sevillanas, which made it more fun. Since it's obvious that I'm not from around here (you know, being Asian and all), a lot of people were confused that I could dance the sevilllanas. Then when they asked me where I learned it, they were even more surprised that I learned the sevillanas in the United States. I'm actually am kind of glad that I do know the sevillanas, because I felt more accepted into the culture.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Semana Santa
Semana Santa (Holy Week) this year lasted from Palm Sunday, April 5, to Easter Sunday, April 12. For a week, the hermandades (brotherhoods) in Sevilla parade though the streets, carrying the floats of Jesus Christ and Virgin Mary. After about 6 hours of their procession, they enter the church again. The penitentes are dressed in KKK-like tunics, so it probably seems disturbing, out of context. Some carry candles, some bear crosses on their shoulder. Their identities are supposed to be anonymous, their penitence only known by God. In truth, though, the Semana Santa is more of a cultural tradition, rather than a religious one.
Here are some videos, so you can witness a bit of Semana Santa:
("El Silencio" is one of the oldest and most important hermandades in Sevilla. The entire procession is very serious. Spectators are expected to maintain the silence, but you can hear a saeta in the background, a flamenco-like religious song.)
Here are some videos, so you can witness a bit of Semana Santa:
("El Silencio" is one of the oldest and most important hermandades in Sevilla. The entire procession is very serious. Spectators are expected to maintain the silence, but you can hear a saeta in the background, a flamenco-like religious song.)
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Barcelona
I spent the past weekend in Barcelona. Christine (from IV) was going to be there, so I thought I should meet up with her, even for just one day. My flight was not long (about 1.5 hours), but I had some difficulty with Barcelona's train system. My directions told me to just stay on the train until I got to the Arc de Triomf station, but I think I was actually supposed to change trains at one point. I got off at the Passeig de Gracia station, and then just hailed a taxi. I was supposed to meet up with Christine at 12:15 at the Plaza de Catalunya, and I was afraid that I would arrive late. I turned off my cell phone on the plane, but totally forgot my PIN number, so I couldn't access my cell phone. That meant two things: first, I couldn't call Christine, and second, I had no idea what the time was.
But among the masses in the Plaza de Catalunya, Christine managed to find me. We walked down Las Ramblas, and headed to La Boqueria, a colorful market with meat, fish, and fruits galore. I really enjoyed the atmosphere of Las Ramblas, especially since it's filled with human statues -- and some pretty good ones, I must say. At La Boqueria, I met Christine's friends from London. They were eating paella at a restaurant, but I just sat down and ate my chicken bocadillo that Meli had prepared for me (yay for not having to pay). Afterwards, we took a bus headed to Montjuïc (Mount of the Jews), where the Olympic Stadium is located. We got lost along the way, so I asked someone, in Spanish, how to get to the stadium. He must have thought that I didn't get what he said, or noticed my American accent, because he responded in English.
Before actually exploring the Olympic sites, we visited the museum. It basically gave a history of the Olympics and every sport. The coolest part, though, was getting to watch clips from the past Olympic Games. I watched the women's gymnastics during the 1996 Atlanta games, and it just amazed me how young the girls appeared (when I was younger, they looked so much older). We then entered the stadium, roamed around the general plaza area, and took some pictures. Since we were on top of a hill, we had a pretty good view of the rest of Barcelona.
Christine and her friends had to leave in the evening, so we returned to the downtown area fairly early. Her friends decided to go shopping, but I didn't wanted to be tempted to spend more money. I walked with Christine for a bit and just talked. But alas, I had to say goodbye to her, and I headed off to get some food. I headed to Maoz Falafel, where they give you an empty pita with falafels, and you can fill it up with whatever toppings you want – buffet style. After my filling meal, I decided to just explore the city. I walked up a big street that takes you to the famous Gaudi houses, Casa Batilò and Casa Milà (La Pedrera). I didn't think they looked that impressive, at least during the nighttime. I guess I expected something much bigger, something that didn't suddenly appear among the rows of typical apartment buildings. I kept walking up the street, expecting to somehow reach Parc Guëll, which didn't happen (only later did I realize that Parc Guëll is on top of another high hill). My feet ached, so I gave up and headed back to my hostel.
The next day, I explored the Citadel Park (Parc de la Ciutella), which is a large, lovely park. It's probably the most green space I had seen in all of Barcelona. I also heard some bits of Catalán – but out of context (that is, Barcelona), I'd probably have problems identifying it. I then tried to find the harbor and the beaches, but only found the port for the boats. Next, I explored the Cathedral and roamed around Barri Gòtic (the Gothic Barrio), which is basically the remains of Roman Barcelona. To me, it was a sharp contrast to the modern vision I had of Barcelona. The old Roman quarter was very quaint, filled with little shops and cafés, while colorful laundry, from the apartments above, swayed in the wind.
I read that the Picasso museum gets busy during the early hours, so I decided to kill some time by visiting Casa Batilò and Casa Milà again. Personally, I think these buildings look better during the daylight hours (especially when you can see the colors and intricate details). I only took pictures from the outside, since I didn't feel like paying to go in. I'm much more self-conscious when I'm taking pictures with Moe, so I tried to be as discrete about it as much as possible.
The Picasso museum is free on Sundays (yay!). The line was fairly long, but it moved quickly. The museum mostly features works from Picasso's early career, so it was interesting to see how his works had evolved. I also got to see Picasso's versions of “Las Meninas,” which at first glance, appear to be total distortions of Velazquez's original.
I probably spent about an hour or two at the museum, but without a watch, I really had no idea. I overhead someone saying that it was almost 5 o'clock, so I thought I should visit Parc Guëll. I thought it would especially be nice to see the view of Barcelona at sunset. I hopped on a bus that took me directly to the entrance of the park. The park itself was much bigger than I had expected. It doesn't only consist of the famous circular benches and the lizard fountain; it goes up and out to another hill. I spent a good amount of time exploring the different paths and taking pictures of the scenery. For others, though, it was basically a lover's playground. I kind of wished I could have shared the experience with someone, but I enjoyed my freedom and adventure.
The next day, I visited La Sagrada Familia, a huge church constructed by Gaudi, which has been under works for a while now. It consists of three facades, of the Passion, the Nativity, and the Glory. The Nativity facade was actually completed by Gaudi, and to me, it looks quite different from the Passion one, which was made by someone else. The Nativity facade is a lot more ornate, a lot more breath-taking, but the Passion facade has some interesting symbols (such as a grid of numbers that has over 310 combinations to add up to 33 – the age in which Jesus died). The interior (the Nave) is completely under construction, but you can see that it was designed to imitate a forest. Afterwards, I went to the top, where I had a closer peak at some of the Nativity facade. But I have to admit, I'm quite scared of heights, and I had a feeling that I was going to drop my camera at any point. Luckily, I didn't.
I decided to get a haircut from a Chinese salon, since peluquerias chinas are basically non-existent in Sevilla –- and based on my experience, only Chinese hair dressers have to guts to thin out a lot of hair. It was a bit difficult to communicate with the hair dressers, since I couldn't understand their Spanish (I'm not sure if they're more accustomed to speaking in Spanish or Catalán). They spoke Mandarin, but my Mandarin really isn't that advanced, so that was out of the question. But I basically got what I wanted: lots of hair cut and thinned out.
I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through Las Ramblas. I also headed back to La Boqueria, where they sell cups of natural fruit juice for one euro each. They're really addictive; I tried different three flavors within one hour. I also bought a pair of earrings from a local artisan. I'm quite pleased with them, especially since they shine with many facets of color. Thanks to my natural sense of time – or better said, my sneakiness at spying on other people's watches – I made it to the Airport bus station on time for my flight.
Overall, I had a pretty good impression of Barcelona. I definitely preferred it over Madrid, but the weather could have been a factor. However, I'm not sure if I would have liked to study in Barcelona. Although many people speak Spanish, many prefer to speak Catalán, which is a separate language altogether. It's also hard to practice Spanish when people want to practice their English, or think that they're doing you a favor by speaking in English. I guess it's going to take me a while before I can pass as a good Spanish speaker.
But among the masses in the Plaza de Catalunya, Christine managed to find me. We walked down Las Ramblas, and headed to La Boqueria, a colorful market with meat, fish, and fruits galore. I really enjoyed the atmosphere of Las Ramblas, especially since it's filled with human statues -- and some pretty good ones, I must say. At La Boqueria, I met Christine's friends from London. They were eating paella at a restaurant, but I just sat down and ate my chicken bocadillo that Meli had prepared for me (yay for not having to pay). Afterwards, we took a bus headed to Montjuïc (Mount of the Jews), where the Olympic Stadium is located. We got lost along the way, so I asked someone, in Spanish, how to get to the stadium. He must have thought that I didn't get what he said, or noticed my American accent, because he responded in English.
Before actually exploring the Olympic sites, we visited the museum. It basically gave a history of the Olympics and every sport. The coolest part, though, was getting to watch clips from the past Olympic Games. I watched the women's gymnastics during the 1996 Atlanta games, and it just amazed me how young the girls appeared (when I was younger, they looked so much older). We then entered the stadium, roamed around the general plaza area, and took some pictures. Since we were on top of a hill, we had a pretty good view of the rest of Barcelona.
Christine and her friends had to leave in the evening, so we returned to the downtown area fairly early. Her friends decided to go shopping, but I didn't wanted to be tempted to spend more money. I walked with Christine for a bit and just talked. But alas, I had to say goodbye to her, and I headed off to get some food. I headed to Maoz Falafel, where they give you an empty pita with falafels, and you can fill it up with whatever toppings you want – buffet style. After my filling meal, I decided to just explore the city. I walked up a big street that takes you to the famous Gaudi houses, Casa Batilò and Casa Milà (La Pedrera). I didn't think they looked that impressive, at least during the nighttime. I guess I expected something much bigger, something that didn't suddenly appear among the rows of typical apartment buildings. I kept walking up the street, expecting to somehow reach Parc Guëll, which didn't happen (only later did I realize that Parc Guëll is on top of another high hill). My feet ached, so I gave up and headed back to my hostel.
The next day, I explored the Citadel Park (Parc de la Ciutella), which is a large, lovely park. It's probably the most green space I had seen in all of Barcelona. I also heard some bits of Catalán – but out of context (that is, Barcelona), I'd probably have problems identifying it. I then tried to find the harbor and the beaches, but only found the port for the boats. Next, I explored the Cathedral and roamed around Barri Gòtic (the Gothic Barrio), which is basically the remains of Roman Barcelona. To me, it was a sharp contrast to the modern vision I had of Barcelona. The old Roman quarter was very quaint, filled with little shops and cafés, while colorful laundry, from the apartments above, swayed in the wind.
I read that the Picasso museum gets busy during the early hours, so I decided to kill some time by visiting Casa Batilò and Casa Milà again. Personally, I think these buildings look better during the daylight hours (especially when you can see the colors and intricate details). I only took pictures from the outside, since I didn't feel like paying to go in. I'm much more self-conscious when I'm taking pictures with Moe, so I tried to be as discrete about it as much as possible.
The Picasso museum is free on Sundays (yay!). The line was fairly long, but it moved quickly. The museum mostly features works from Picasso's early career, so it was interesting to see how his works had evolved. I also got to see Picasso's versions of “Las Meninas,” which at first glance, appear to be total distortions of Velazquez's original.
I probably spent about an hour or two at the museum, but without a watch, I really had no idea. I overhead someone saying that it was almost 5 o'clock, so I thought I should visit Parc Guëll. I thought it would especially be nice to see the view of Barcelona at sunset. I hopped on a bus that took me directly to the entrance of the park. The park itself was much bigger than I had expected. It doesn't only consist of the famous circular benches and the lizard fountain; it goes up and out to another hill. I spent a good amount of time exploring the different paths and taking pictures of the scenery. For others, though, it was basically a lover's playground. I kind of wished I could have shared the experience with someone, but I enjoyed my freedom and adventure.
The next day, I visited La Sagrada Familia, a huge church constructed by Gaudi, which has been under works for a while now. It consists of three facades, of the Passion, the Nativity, and the Glory. The Nativity facade was actually completed by Gaudi, and to me, it looks quite different from the Passion one, which was made by someone else. The Nativity facade is a lot more ornate, a lot more breath-taking, but the Passion facade has some interesting symbols (such as a grid of numbers that has over 310 combinations to add up to 33 – the age in which Jesus died). The interior (the Nave) is completely under construction, but you can see that it was designed to imitate a forest. Afterwards, I went to the top, where I had a closer peak at some of the Nativity facade. But I have to admit, I'm quite scared of heights, and I had a feeling that I was going to drop my camera at any point. Luckily, I didn't.
I decided to get a haircut from a Chinese salon, since peluquerias chinas are basically non-existent in Sevilla –- and based on my experience, only Chinese hair dressers have to guts to thin out a lot of hair. It was a bit difficult to communicate with the hair dressers, since I couldn't understand their Spanish (I'm not sure if they're more accustomed to speaking in Spanish or Catalán). They spoke Mandarin, but my Mandarin really isn't that advanced, so that was out of the question. But I basically got what I wanted: lots of hair cut and thinned out.
I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through Las Ramblas. I also headed back to La Boqueria, where they sell cups of natural fruit juice for one euro each. They're really addictive; I tried different three flavors within one hour. I also bought a pair of earrings from a local artisan. I'm quite pleased with them, especially since they shine with many facets of color. Thanks to my natural sense of time – or better said, my sneakiness at spying on other people's watches – I made it to the Airport bus station on time for my flight.
Overall, I had a pretty good impression of Barcelona. I definitely preferred it over Madrid, but the weather could have been a factor. However, I'm not sure if I would have liked to study in Barcelona. Although many people speak Spanish, many prefer to speak Catalán, which is a separate language altogether. It's also hard to practice Spanish when people want to practice their English, or think that they're doing you a favor by speaking in English. I guess it's going to take me a while before I can pass as a good Spanish speaker.
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