And then I was crying.

The garden at the Greek Theatre in the Parc de Montjuic; Montjuic is hilly and there are (literally) breathtaking views of the city, mountains, and ocean.
see all photos »

It hit me, I wasn't expecting it . .  or maybe I was. But it started something like this: I woke up this morning (didn't have to be at the Center until 11, which was nice) got ready, yadda yadda yadda, gathered my things (keys, metro pass, metro map, way-too-expensive-euros), brushed my teeth - totally ready to go. I checked my phone to see the time, and realized it wasn't working. I couldn't get it to turn on. Nothing - completely blank. No big deal; the Vodafone store (my service provider) is located in the bottom of the building where I have class, so stopping by beforehand would be easy enough. Got to the store before class, took a number, stood in line. The line was really long, and soon enough I asked someone what the time was (since I had no clue, having not seen a phone or a clock) and I got the "once menos cinco" reply. 5 minutes to class - gotta get out of line. Elevator up 7 floors to class - no big deal - I'll go right back to the store after class. I did. No line this time (yay!) and I gave the guy my phone and told him, in Castellano (Spanish), what had happened. So he took it, fiddled with it, thought I had put the battery in wrong, nope that wasn't the problem, gave it to the other guy, brought out a new charger, nope not the problem either. I had brought my receipt, charger, and phone, but the guy tried to explain to me that I needed to come back and bring the whole box that it came in. Simple enough, except I did not understand what he meant, and I was completely embarrassed because neither of the Vodafone boys spoke English and Catalan-laced Spanish can be a hell of a hard language to understand. Somehow I finally understood (I will probably never forget the word for box, "la caja", again in my life), and I headed back to the metro to go home and get the box and come back. I got back to the store, with the box, with everything in my room bearing "Vodafone", and got back up to the counter (only a couple minutes before closing for lunch, from 2-4pm . . fun fact: apparently statistics show that after Americans the Spaniards work the most, only Americans get through their days in 8 hours and Spaniards stretch their days out longer), the guy takes my SIM card out, puts everything else in la caja, makes a copy of my receipt, and tells me (I think?) that he can give me another phone, but I have to pay 30 euros. Wha-wha-wha-WHAT? Pay? PAY?!!! He said I would get my 30 euros back in 10 days (I think?) and gave me another receipt with another piece of paper attached to it and told me not to lose it (which makes me think that I guess I will get my 30 euros back, since the paper is so important . . at least I understand the words "no" and "perder", making a grand combination of DON'T LOSE!). So I got another phone; fine; not as nice as the one I actually bought, but what do I actually need to do besides call/text? Nothing. I hand over my euros, tears welling in my eyes because I don't actually know if I will see them again, and I don't know how to ask if I will, and because I am freaking out unnecessarily (but 30 euros is a lot - Europe is expensive, y'all). So I take my new (used) phone, the receipt, and leave the store. I was uneasy, but thought I could call my friends to meet for lunch like we had planned and then go see the parliament building, which opens to the public for two days (yesterday and today) a year. But of course the phone I had received had no battery. Great. Guess I'll just the take the metro back to my house (thank goodness I bought that unlimited pass!) and wait for it to charge, so I can eventually call someone. By this time I was definitely choking back tears, having no ability to contact anyone and ask about lunch, or check and see what the time might be (still had no clue). I decided to head for the metro and go home. Walking on the crowded sidewalk I happened to run into Macy and Neal, two friends I've made at IES - and oh it felt so good to see them, and cry for like two seconds (when Neal gave me a hug; I'm sure all the tourists thought I was crazy crying in the middle of this busy street), and they'd already eaten but sat with me while I got something to eat and then we headed to check our mail at the center. Neal said it, and I guess he's right - that it's probably good that I'm getting this out now, because it's going to happen to everyone at some point during our studies here. I just hope it doesn't happen to me too many more times . . . .

The Catalunya festivies were ending as we arrived to Parc de la Ciutadella and saw this beautiful fountain.
see all photos »

The rest of the day was fine - my roommate Sylwia and I took the metro to Plaza Espanya in Montjuic, in the south part of town, to go to a store where I had seen a pair of shoes I really liked for 10E. It was later in the day, around 6, so it was nice outside and the atmosphere was very relaxed. Sylwia helped me guess my European shoe size (since she's Polish-American, she's had plenty of European shoes, and we estimated from her shoe size that I would be a 39). So I made my first real Spanish purchase, other than food and a Spanish fashion magazine (and a phone, but lets not talk about that)! We had some more time before dinner so we walked up the stairs of the Museu Nacional D'art de Catalunya, which is probably one of the most gorgeous buildings I have ever seen in my life. It takes about 20 minutes just to walk up the stairs - so we got a nice workout, too! We walked through some the gardens of the park next to the museum, which I've been to before, into the Garden of the Greek Theatre (photo inserted), which looks out over the city as well. Around 7:15 we headed for home. It was definitely a peaceful way to round out a hectic morning.

Another day at the beach!
see all photos »

Just a little tidbit on yesterday - September 11 is the National Day of Catalunya (a holiday, fun fact: Spain has more holidays than other countries!) so we had the day off from school. We headed down to the Parc de la Ciutadella, where people were gathering to celebrate Catalunya. After the park we ate at a restaurant close by (with an experience so ridiculous it was funny, and the waiter, a struggling Italian photographer, leaving his phone number and e-mail address halfway through the meal . . . I mean, c'mon - if anything, wouldn't it be best to a least wait until the END of someone's meal?). Afterwards we went to the beach to sit and relax. It was a really fun day. I've added a picture of a building/fountain from the park (very beautiful) and another from the beach. Last night for dinner we had snails as part of our meal - they were hot and we had to pick them out of the shells with toothpicks - I really enjoyed them. Mercedes, our housemother, cooks us a lot of food. I definitely always eat more of it because Sylwia is tiny and a bit of a picky eater - and also because we can't leave any extra food, considering one of the first nights we ate everything but a tiny piece of fish (the fish is really good, by the way) and Mercedes made a comment about the starving kids in Africa who might want it. Ah oh. We gotta eat it all. Thank goodness I'm staying in shape walking up flights of stairs to museums that take 20 minutes to reach the top. The other night Sylwia and I sat down to stuffed eggs sitting at our places at the table. We were waiting for Mercedes to bring in the rest of the food, and Sylwia tells me that she can't eat the egg (she had a bad experience with eggs last week), and asks me if I want it. Well we knew that we couldn't just move it onto my plate, since two on my plate and none on hers would be a disrespectful to Mercedes if she came in and saw Sylwia didn't even want to try it. So in the 30 seconds we had left I told Sylwia to not to touch the egg first, but eat everything else, and then near the end of the meal I would ask her if she wanted it and she would say "oh I'm too full" and then I would take it and eat it. We've become very strategic very fast - if Mercedes gets up for 10 seconds to go to the kitchen we talk about who is going to finish what and how we're going to do it. I'm laughing as I'm writing this . . . . thinking about our dinners! The food is really good and there is always a variety; I'm always excited to see what we are having for dinner (besides the fact that I'm also very very hungry by 8:30). Having conversation with Mercedes usually goes well too. She doesn't speak any English (except for some movie titles; she loves films - she is part of a movie club and has a whole collection of Audrey Hepburn films), but we usually talk about where we went during the day. She likes art, but not sports - I asked her if she had been to a Barca game and she said yes but that she didn't like it. No sports for Mercedes! Sylwia talks a lot too, and we are good at helping each other out with different words.

Well, I should probably be off to bed - taxi to the airport at 4:45am. Blech. I'll have photos and other news when I get back from Galicia on Sunday! :)