Montserrat

The schoolorganizes a trip there. Travel blogs rave of it. It's on the list of "Top 10 Things to do in Barcelona". Yet, when it came to Montserrat, I had zero desire to go. All I knew of Montserrat wasthat it was a 2 hour trip to get there and it's a giant rock you have to climb. At the top, there is a monastery. Scott's first attempt to get me to go went a little something like this:

Scott: Montserrat on Saturday?

Kat: Umm I was thinking more like beach on S

aturday.

Scott: So you don't want to go to Montserrat?!

Kat: Na....

Scott: Valentina's coming

Kat: (Pauses) Maybe...

Scott: There's a beach there....

Kat: Really?? Oka.... wait! No there's not!

Everyone was doing it so I decided I really should go. We compromised and decided we would go on Friday afternoon instead of Saturday morning, sinc

e Friday was suppose to be dreary. We caught the train at Plaça Espanya and rode fo

r about an hour outside of Barcelona. Trains and subways in Spain do not have 6 or 7 separate train cars connected to make one big train. It's not like an American subway where one has to force open the train car door, try not to look down at the track flying by and make a leap of fate into the next car. Instead, all the cars are open and connected by a moveable platform that bends and sways with the movement of the train. Great, right? Except the one on this train was in dire need of WD-40. It was releasing the most horrific, high pitched squeak the entire hour. I thought I was going to lose my head. Scott finds my inability to cope with these kinds of situations utterly hilarious. Everytime it squ

eaked we would make eye contact, I would tighten my jaw and shake my head and he would laugh.

As a side note, earlier in the day Scott and I were walking through the metro and I told him my screaming-baby hypothesis. I am convinced that on this trip, everywhere I go there is this one screaming baby that follows me and continues to wail in my ear. I could be on the beach, in class, on the metro, in the shower... wherever, and there will be, without a doubt, the screaming baby. It's actually incredible. Toward the end of the first trai

n ride, when I was just about to light the squeaking train car on fire, Scott reminded me that at least it was not a screaming baby.

After the train ride, one has to take a tram up the mountain to arrive at Montserrat. Well actually, one has two options. You can either take the tram, which is a smaller train and it takes about 20 minutes - or- you could opt to take the cable car

where you will ride in a gondola-esque contraption up the mountain to take in the view. Being that we're in Spain and I don't trust the metro let alone a cable car

constructed in 1970-something, we opted for the tram. This ride truly was incredible. The little tram climbs up the mountain at nearly a 90 degree angle and every view is cooler than the last. We were so high up our ears were popping. It was a little scary but very cool!

We finally got to Montserrat and stepped out into the little village. The colours and the way the buildings were shaped is comparable to Italy's San Gimignamo. It is breathtaking. We got off the tram and kind of stood there for a moment. In our haste to get there, none of us

actually did research as to what to do when you get to Montserrat. I knew it had some holy roots somewhere along the line... but I was

tired and feeling silly so I made up my own story as to why Montserrat is a famous holy site. It goes a little something like this:

Montserrat is the site in Spain where, about 400 years ago, Jesus landed his space ship in order to settle the dispute between the dinosaurs and the humans. Jesus told the dinosaurs to cool it and they wouldn't listen so he killed them all - like a ninja. Then he told the humans they were free from the dinosaurs and that's when the super bowl was created.

It turns out, this is actually not why Montserrat is famous. If you want to know that story, you have to look it up... because I decided I like my version better and therefore I will not be researching the true story.

When we got to the top we took in some incredible views. There are no

words that do justice to the beauty of this place!!! And then reality hit, and we realized Montserrat is inundated with gift shops and other tourist delights. It was really sad actually. We took a trip up to the basilica and the crypt and then headed home for the night.

We climbed back on the tram and headed down the mountain. When the tram dropped us off for the train, there was some minor confusion about which track would take us back to Barcelona.... and when. The train finally came but it was packed. And, of course, within a moment of departure a baby next to me began to wail. Scott and I bursted into laughter.... up until the squeaking started.

Culture and Cocktails

Everyday here in Spain surpasses the last and I find myself realizing that a month simply just isn't enough. But, alas, we are scheduled to leave in a week or so and we had to get movingon our bucket list!

I finally walked over to the Sagrada Familia.

I've almost been here a month without seeing it. I didn't buy a ticket to go inside, let's not get overzealous here, but I did take some awesome pictures! It's an absolute marvel and I very much look forward to checking out the interior. Scott and I grabbed some drinks at an Italian cafe down the streetand we called it a night.

On Wednesday, I treated myself to an extreme shopping trip. My credit card was HOT after Wednesday afternoon but it was definitely worth it. Of course, if I keep eating the way I am, I won't actually fit into anything I bought when I get home. But that's neither here nor there. After shopping, Scott and I ventured up to Camp Nou where FC Barcelona plays. This is like the Yankee Stadium of Spain. It is 18 Euro to get inside so Scott and I just went to the Mega-store instead. The mega store was awesome! It had everything FC Barcelona you could imagine;

from slippers to lunch boxes to coffee mugs. And the prices were what one would expect, too. They ranged from the cost of 1 appendage up to the price of a soul. Needless to say, I didn't walk out with much. Instead, I just took pictures of the nice things.

We decided to hit up a movie that night - Toy Story 3 actually. It was playing in Imax 3-D and it was phenomenal! Great great great movie! Highly recommend it!

Here's a little culture lesson on Spain. We get to the 10:15 movie at about 10:10, I look at the girl behind the counter and I ask her if they sell popcorn. She answers "Yes, but not right now... if you want popcorn you can get it outside." So the movie theater is open, and showing movies, yet the concession stand is closed. Scott and I walk outside. There is literally nothing around the movie theatre except for a habour. I was so disappointed, but decided to just go in and sit down. 2 minutes later, we see a bunch of people walking in with popcorn. This, my friends, is what I like to classify as the "enigma of españa".

And what I mean by that is, whatever makes the most sense - Spain will do the exact opposite.

On Thursday I had a Spanish course exam. I was pretty sure I wasn't going to do very well because I entered the class a week late and never bothered to look over what I missed. Luckily, my NFHS/UConn education didn't fail me and I wound up getting 100% on the test. This was a huge surprise to me! And I didn't let anyone around me forget about it. I kept reminding Scott and Valentina they were in the presence of a genius. It also helps that I was placed, upon request, in a class 3 levels below where I should be....

but the self confidence boost was welcome! We went out for Crèpes and then headed over to the chocolate museum. The museum was super interesting! They had everything made out of chocolate - even The Beatles drum set! I think my most favourite fun chocolate fact comes from one of the displays about the coacoa bean where the information read,

"Mayans used CoaCoa beans as a form of currency. 10 beans was the price for one prostitute." If I were a teacher in Barcelona and I took my kids to the Chocolate museum, I would most definitely create the test question "How many chocolate beans does one prostitute cost?"

¡Cumpleaños Felíz!

After a morning at the beach, Lita asked me if I would like to join her to celebrate her granddaughter's 5th birthday. Ithought it was a perfect day for a birthday party and eagerly accepted! I was also curious to see how the Spaniards throw a party.

At about 4:30 Lita's daughter, Vanessa, "son-in-law" (I put quotations because nobody gets married here...reason number 928347 why I should move here) Miguel, and grandson Gael (pronounced Guy-el) picked us up at Lita's apartment. Miguel and Vanessa are fun and clearly very much in love. Gael is six years old and loves everything that has to do with Toy Story and Spiderman. Lita brought Gael a present because she knew he'd be jealous when his cousin was opening all her presents. They were trading cards of Spain's world cup team. He was so excited to open them they went flying around the car because the windows were down. One flew out the window, tears ensued, and I immediately thought What have I gotten myself into?

The party was at a park a little outside of Barcelona.

I would imagine this would be what any Americ

an parent would do if they lived in a city. I always grew up in the countryside

so all our outdoor parties wer

e in someone's back yard. I suppose I never gave thought to what if you don't have a backyard?

They had balloons strung up on trees, a picnic bench covered in a pink table cloth, a piñata and massive amounts of food. Still looks like an American party to me. In fact, the sign said "Happy Birthday" in English. The children came with their parents and got along very well. Lita's grandchildren were, by far, the cutest. The birthday girl, Aisha, was absolutely adorable. Aisha's little brother, Liam, was my favourite. He was glued to me all day. Not yet two, he grabbed my hand to go everywhere. I, stupidly, took him to go down the slide. I guess he's never been down a slide before...

and he wasn't about to stop now that he'd started. I would lift him on top of the slide, he'd go down, I would catch him on the other side, and he'd scream "más más!" (more more). The first few times I was laughing with him...

after the 4th or 5th round I'd counter his "más, más" with "¿Qué hacen los otros niños? ¡Vamos a ver!" What are the other kids doing? Let's go see! That's when Liam would look at me, his bottom lip would start to protrude and quiver and I'd think shit. So, down the slide we went until the clown came.

The clown was a woman and the kids loved her. Liam wanted me to sit with him so I did and I had to play all the stupid clown games. The clown actually taught me a lot. If you ever need to know "treasure map", "sword fight", "balloon animal" or "face paint" in Spanish, I'm your girl. She took the kids on a treasure hunt, painted their faces, made balloon animals...etc. Of course the kids squeezed their balloon animals too hard and they all popped within minutes. Immediately, the adults were inundated with little monsters with wet faces, snot coming from their noses and mouths agape,

reaching out for whoever will pick them up first.

Liam chose me. My white dress was covered in snot. That stupid clown must've known what was going to happen because as soon as she handed out her balloon animals she was gone. All that was left was a party full of sobbing children.

The party continued on. There was cake, a piñata, presents galore, and crying children. It was like any

other party thrown for a 5 year old. I guess no matter where you live, cars, princesses and balloon animals will always be cool.

The children ran off to the playground and the women started cleaning and fussing over little things, and the dads walked over to the tree in the park and stood in a circle. And started passing around a blunt. Ohhhh I thought to myself here's the difference between Spain and America. I laughed to myself because of how normal it all was. It's like the first few days you go to the beach here you're taken aback by all the topless women. Then a few weeks go by and you don't even notice. Then, one day, you catch yourself thinking, You know, it would be really nice to have no tan lines at all. And you have to stop yourself from taking off your top. That's what it's like here with mar

ijuana. It's legal in Spain. You can walk down the street and smoke it if you'd like; you just can't sell it. So the first few days when you smell it you're very surprised because you'll be some place where you would never expect it; like sitting down to dinner and the table next to you is smoking it. Then a few days pass and you smell it but you're not as alarmed. Then a few weeks pass and you smell it and no one even says anything. Then you're at a 5 year olds birthday party and it's being passed around among the parents and you think is hm. interesting.

All in all, it was a great experience. I was glad Lita invited me. It was a beautiful day and the kids were adorable. Many years from now, Lita will take out the pictures from today and show her grandkids and they will say "Who is that girl in the white dress?" And Lita will take the picture from them, hold it closer to her face and say,

"Ohh yea, that was one of the girls from America...what was her name." And she'll purse her lips and look up at the ceiling and try to remember my name but by then her grandchildren, even Liam, will be onto the next picture and completely disinterested in the girl who took him down the slide all day.

Cooooca cola fanta agua cerveza cold beer?

If I were to make the soundtrack of Barcelona's beach it would go a little something like this.

Track one - The screaming baby

Track two - The Moroccans incessantly walking up and down the beach with coolers screaming "cooooca cola, fanta, agua, cerveza, cold beer?". It starts as a song, morphs into a chant and ends as a question.

Track three - The Chinese women walking around saying "Hola, mesaje! massage? Muy bueno message."

Track four - "Hola, vestido? Vestido."

Track five - Screaming, splashing child

Track six - Tracks 1-5 mixed together in a beat I like to call "you will not rest on the beach."

More or less, the beach is a playground for Moroccans and Chinese women to make a quick buck. They walk up right up to the edge of your towel, kick sand in your face, then scream whatever chant they've created for their product. After you say no, you have peace for approximately 2 minutes and 45 seconds; and then they return.

Each product has it's own tune, and EVERYONE selling that product uses the same melody. For example, three, yes three, men were surrounding my towel trying to sell cold drinks and at the same time, in the same melody, they sparked rage inside my head I didn't know existed with their ridiculous persistence of "Coooooca cola, fanta, agua, cerveza, cold beer?"

The other day, I was dying of thirst. I caved and asked one of the guys how much for a water. Scott shook his head and said, "You're just supporting the cause." The guy looked at me and said, "Uno cincuenta." One fifty for a water, not bad. I look in my purse. I only have 1.30. I tell him I only have 1.30. He shrugged and said okay. I bet I could have gotten him down to a dollar if I wanted to.

You can get anything you want sitting on your towel. Cold drinks, massages, lottery tickets, coconuts, dresses, hena tattoos, they're all accessible without even standing up. What's the one thing you can't get? Peace and quiet.

Laughs

On Thursday night, the night before our class from hell was to end, we all decided to meet up to see the fountainin the center of Barcelona (the one that dances to music), and maybe have adrink or two. We had an entire day of class so it was time to do something fun.

The fountain was a bore. It was nothing you couldn't see in Disney World or anywhere else. I actually think the snowflakes in Rockerfeller are more entertaining. Scott enjoyed it - I was being a little bit of a negative Nancy. Valentina thought it

was the most dreadful thing she'd ever seen so at le

ast someone was on board with me!

We left the fountain and headed out to find a bar. It was me, Scott, Valentina, Laura and Pierre, Laura's friend from... wherever they speak Danish. Pierre is too difficult for us to say so Scott and I just call him "The Great Dane". We were on a tight schedule due to the metro closing earlier during the week, so we sucked it up and went to the nearest bar on Las Ramblas. This is the most expensive,

touristy and downright awful section of Barcelona

but Sangria is Sangria, right? False. We had two of the most disgusting jars of Sangria I've ever tasted in my life! And they were so expensive! But it didn't matter, that night was one of the funniest nights I've ever had. When I got home, my stomach hurt from laughing so hard. Everything we talked about turned into a series of stories or experiences that had us all dying laughing. It was really amazing that 4 people from so far away could be randomly placed in this class together for these two weeks and have the exact same

sense of humour. It was a great night!

We took the late bus home, walked Valentina to her neighbourhood and Scott and I carried on to our respective homes. We walked through a really cool section of

Barcelona with tiny streets and bars. We found a child's big wheel car and tried to get it to work but I wound up ripping the handle bars off it. Scott insisted he could fix it based solely on the fact that he has nieces and nephews. I got

home and passed out - we had class the next day! THE LAST DAY OF THAT HORRIBLE CLASS!

We all felt pretty lousy at class the next day. I showed up 15 minutes late, Valentina was late too. Her boyfriend was coming in that day so she could barely be bothered with class. It was an observational day, so we were sent to observe other Spanish classes and classify the techniques the teacher used and why she used them and blah blah blah. All I know is, at noon we were almost done. We met to talk about wh

at we saw and Jaume, our teacher, walks in with two bottles

of champagne to celebrate our 70 hours of course work finished! We were all hungover from the night before but it turned out, champagne was exactly what we needed!

After class, I immediately felt like I was a bird let out of a cage. I went to the beach and hung out there for a few hours with Laura and The Great Dane. Scott and I trekked it up to Parc Güell, the park designed by Antoni Gaudí. It's absolutely

incredible. The buildings are awesome and the view is even more amazing. It is definitely a work out to get to the top but absolutely worth it.

Scott and I treated ourselves to ice cream and then

headed back for dinner.

Last night, I met up with my friend Daniel for a drink at a bar before I was to meet Valentina and crew out in town. Daniel is from Canada. He's extremely outgoing and friendly. We got to the bar and ordered beers by the bucket. I had to meet up with everyone in a little bit so I drank as quickly as I could and took off. Valentina

said she would come out for ONE drink since Fabio was in town. Fabio only speaks Italian so our table was speaking Spanish, English and Italian. Somehow we got everything across to each other. It was Laura's last night in town so we had a reason to celebrate. 6 jars of Sangria later, we decided to call it a night. Not without hugs and kisses with Laura. :(

Amici

Another awesome day of class has come andgone... I have reached my limit. I am in total goof mode. To the left, I've included a picture of my classwork of an accurate drawing to represent the difference between "por" y "para". We were all laughing at my lack of care, artistry, attention...etc so I had to catch it on film.

During lunch, we passed around different hand gestures from different countries. I can't wait to teach my friends back home how the Mexicans gesture for lazy, and how the Italians flip people off. It's fantastic. We've been silently flipping each other off from across the classroom in several different languages. What's more, I will never be able to sing "shave and a haircut" again in my life. I'll explain that one in person.

After class, we headed to the Pablo Picasso Museum. We spent an hour there. I was nearly clawing at the walls to get outdoors. Valentina was meeting her friend,

Estefano, for

a drink afterwards and invited us along. On our way to meet Estefano, we passed through a plaza where a man was playing a guitar and a woman sang. She had one of the most beautiful voices in the world. Valentina, tired of being indoors all day, grabbed Laura to dance in the plaza. I caught it on film . It was the perfect way to kick off the afternoon.

We finally met Estefano and got to the bar. Estefano is from Valentina's hometown. He speaks Italian, Spanish and a little bit of English.

At our table sat 2 Americans, a Canadian, 2 Italians and a Mexican. In order to convey all messages clearly, we spoke Spanish, a little English and even some Italian. But the real moral of the story is, everyone speaks "drinks".

Wait... what?

I know I've been failing miserably with this blog; not that I'd assume anyone was waiting on pins and needles for me to update it. Yet, I should keep it current because the little details are fading quickly and I don't want to lose them.

When it comes to the night that Spain won the world cup... I have stories of things seen and experienced that are better left to be told in person. No matter what kind of tapestry one can weave with verbs, nouns, adjectives and what-have-yous; written word will never do justice to the night Spain won. Besides, there are variations of the story. There's the basic story (for my mom and colleagues), the better story (for my brother and friends), and the whole story (for myself). They're all true, just the former two lack some minor details. :)

The world was back to normal on Monday and we ground through another 7 hours of methodology, pedagogy, contextualización, etc etc. My friend Laura went to the running of the bulls this weekend in Pamplona and shared some awesome stories. Scott and I had tossed around the idea of going, yet decided it might be a little much and we'd rather be in Barca for the world cup. After hearing Laura's recount of sleeping in the park on top of garbage, I was content with our choice! haha! Scott and I treated ourselves to burgers for lunch and I treated myself to a 5k after school along the Mediterranean.

Today we sat through another grueling 7 hours of "comprensión auditiva" and some other big words put together to make some sort of sense. I chose a seat with the best view out the window. I am constantly staring out that window imagining 1,000,000 other places I'd rather be than in that room.

From day one, I was labeled the weakest link in the class. Self-labeled is the most appropriate explanation. The class only has 5 people. One is Scott. If I'm an overachiever, then he has obsessive compulsive disorder. Siobhan is 45 and ridiculously serious about her work, Laura and Valentina can hide their lack of attention way better than I can - and - there ya have it! I am the weakest link. Our teacher, Jaume, is really good looking but more serious than a heart attack. (I cringe when I write that knowing The Boss died of a heart attack today). He hates any kind of horseplay... and I am constantly off task. He gives me looks that I've thrown to students that I absolutely hate. But I can't help it! I'M IN THAT STUPID ROOM FOR 7 HOURS!!!!

After class today, Valentina, Laura and I decided to hit the beach for a while (see photo). We hopped on the metro straight from class, bought some stupid celebrity magazines and laughed at all the gross topless women around us. The water was perfect! We had to start heading home around 8 because we were starving. On our way back, I started to imitate Jaume. "¿Bueno, pues, y que es la desfuerza aquí?" I said in his monotone voice. I really thought I made a great joke. He must use that word "desfuerza" 7,000 times a class. Laura and Valentina looked at me like I was crazy. "The what?!?!" Valentina said in her conundrum of an Italian-Irish accent. "La desfuerza." I repeated. Laura looked at me and said, "Do you mean, la destreza?"

She was right. I got the word wrong. It doesn't seem like a big deal unless you were in the class. We literally worked on destrezas for 7 hours. What is a destreza? Where do we find it? How do we implement it? It would be the same as if for 7 hours we talked about the NBA draft, all the teams, what each player meant to the draft, what the teams were capable of, who were the coaches, what the teams had done for the community...etc. and 2 hours later I said, "I learned so much about baseball today."

Valentina was laughing so hard she fell down in the sand. "Oh my God, Kat, you really aren't listening!"

So much for dropping all that money on these classes.... maybe I should choose the seat furthest from the window tomorrow.