Dedicated to my brother, Joey...

I have to write this with my older brother in mind, because he apparently knows me better than I know myself.

Last week, Joey and I met over beers and burgers in order to send me off in the proper, American way. We got to talking about how I really planned to spend my time over here in Barcelona. This was my most commonly fielded question in the weeks proceeding departure... I already have a few degrees so people were curious just how I'd be spending the upcoming weeks. I told him I signed up for a few classes on various linguistic, cultural and pedagogical concepts but that I had zero intentions of actually "trying" in these classes. What was the point? They don't count toward another degree nor do they offer financial gratification so it really didn't matter what I do.

He looked at me and smiled. "You'll try," he said, "You won't be able to not try." He was referring to my role in our family. The good student. Joey was never a good student, but is an upstanding son. He rarely bent the rules, talks back, or makes waves. I am the exact opposite. A loose cannon with outstanding grades. Ying and yang.

"No," I shook my head, "Really. There's no point. This time, I'm going to enjoy myself."

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This morning, Scott and I met outside my apartment at 8am. I had a restless night of sleep. With jet lag, the time change, and 9834754 degree weather, I was up every 4 hours. I even heard Lita come back from going out dancing at 3:30am. Scott and I took the metro from my apartment down toward school. We were 30 minutes early for class (typical Scott) so we took our time with café con leche before class. We got to class at 9 and received our schedule. Class from 9-1:00 every morning, break until 2:30, class from 2:30-5:30 every night.

Joder.

This class is centered on methodology and pedagogy of second language acquisition. It is about as fun as it sounds. Our teacher, Geni, (pronounced Hen-y) is contradicting yet has some good ideas. Besides Scott and I, there are 3 other people in the class. One is from Canada, another from Ireland and the third, Valentina, is from Italy. Valentina is great. Scott and i hung out with her after class today and she seems very sweet.

Anyway, the whole reason why this is dedicated to my brother is because as tempted as I was to sleep past my alarm, and even more tempted to stay in the park we found during lunch (see picture), I returned to class and diligently took notes, listened carefully and participated with gusto. I have pages of notes from only today. So much for not trying.

I greatly underestimated the investment these classes would take. Upon hour 6 of class, Scott and I were both doing the falling-asleep-in-our-seats-head-bob. My back hurt, I was grumpy, class was horrifically boring, it was 100 degrees; I could go on and on but the reality of it all is that I am in Barcelona, and 7 hours of class was nothing a walk through Las Ramblas and a drink with Scott and Valentina didn't fix.

When I got home, Lita asked me to help her carry some old furniture down the stairs. I am completely convinced the 4'11", 90 lbs Spaniard was anxiously awaiting the arrival of the giant American girl to move this furniture... but that's neither here nor there. I like her, she's fun, and she makes amazing food. And what's better than that?