Transportation Retardation

I may have gotten a little too used to driving while I was home for the holidays, because I've had some issues with the metro since my return to Barcelona.

On Friday night I needed to take the metro to teach a private lesson across town, close to the school where I teach most of my classes. I had a ten ride metro card, which I thought had two rides left on it. Since I usually go out assuming I'm going to get pick-pocketed, I only take what I really need so when I left I didn't grab any cash or credit/debit card to take with me .

When I put the card into the slot and walked through the turnstile, the machine showed that I had just used the last ride.

Shit.

I was tight on time as it was so I had to go straight to the lesson and couldn't go back to my place to get money for a new card. After the lesson I looked in my little change purse to see if I might have enough to buy a single ride ticket. A single ride is €1.40. I had €1.32.

Shit!

I was about a 1.5-2 hour walk from my apartment, and not entirely sure how I to get there on foot. Once the lesson was finished, I wandered around the metro station like homeless person, looking for change on the ground or in the ticket machines. I called Laura, mainly to laugh about the situation since there wasn't anything she could do. She said I should ask someone for money but I could not bring myself to do that. Finally I decided to go over to my school on the off chance my boss was still there at 8:30 on a Friday night.

Thank God for the rare European workaholic.

She was on her way out but she was still there. She gave me a single ride metro card she had but at the last minute, gave me ten cents too, just in case. It was a good thing she did, since the card she gave me didn't work. I had visions of one of the coins slipping from my fingers and rolling beneath the ticket machine, but the transportations gods smiled on me and the trip went smoothly.

I got home, got my debit card and went down to buy an unlimited monthly card.

Then on Saturday night, on my way home at around 6am, when again entering the metro turnstile, I managed to slide my card into the seam of the machine right above the card slot. My friends tried to help get it out but it was really wedged in there. A guard noticed me staring, glassy-eyed and helpless at the machine and was able to open it up and fish the card out for me.

I'm thinking of trying to do more walking from now on.

I'm On a Boat!

I think everyone needs a standby place where they know they can go to just have a good time, no matter what. For me and some of my friends here, that place is an Irish pub in a touristy part of the city (totally un-Barcelona, but it’s a guilty pleasure).

One of the best adventures here involved a pair of ruggedly handsome Croatian yachtsmen. Their names were Christian and Ivan and after we shared a few drinks with them, they invited my friend and me to take a tour of their boat. At 5am and after several giant glasses of Heineken, it didn’t seem at all out of the ordinary to respond “Sure, why not? I’ll go with you relative strangers to an unknown destination surrounded by deep dark water.”

What we saw was definitely worth the risk (which turned out to be non-existent). Their boat was a giant, beautiful luxury yacht. With a dining table for ten outside on the main deck, hardwood floors, plush white carpeting, comfy furniture, flower arrangements and vases full of decorative stones; which always strike me as fancy simply because they are completely devoid of purpose.

We had to take off our shoes and stow them in a cabinet, we were handed bottles of Perrier, we were even shown the owner’s bedroom closet (he wasn't there), which contained about nine baseball caps with the boat's name embroidered over the brim and three Tommy Bahama shirts. I guess when you’re that rich and just hanging out on your yacht, you don’t need pants.

My friend actually found the boat online. You can check it out and see some pictures here:

http://www.charterworld.com/index.html?sub=yacht-charter&charter=inclination-1335

The guys were nice, the boat was cool, but the joke possibilities were endless, and I think that was my favorite part. A few favorites were:

- Calling Christian (the captain) Cap’n Crunch- which was mostly funny because he didn’t get it

- Telling people the next day that the captain let me sit in his chair and check out his equipment (ba dum bum)

- Insisting that they use the stars to find their way from the bar to the boat instead of taking a cab

- Exclaiming that we needed to abandon ship when we decided it was time to leave

- Followed by “Yeah, let’s go, I’m aboard”

- Too many references and questions (on my part) about the captain’s power to perform a wedding- it probably caused more discomfort than humor

- Referring to Ivan (the first mate) as Tennille

Creature Comforts

There are several little things about living here that are different from the life I lived back in the states and they still take a little getting used to.

For example- we don't have a microwave. The other day I was craving lasagna, so I bought a little frozen one and was so looking forward to it until I realized it was for microwaves only. That wasn't so hard to deal with, though. I wrenched it out of the plastic tray, put it on a plate and heated it in the oven and it was still quite tasty.

We also don't have a TV. Well, we do, but we don't have it plugged in or hooked up because most of the TV here is not even in Spanish, it's in Catalan, so neither Laura nor I would understand it. Not really a problem there, either, thanks to the wonders of the interwebs. As long as you have the patience to give shows time to load completely don't mind occasional Japanese subtitles, it's great.

The other thing is that we have a washing machine, but not a dryer. We have five clotheslines outside on our little terrace to hang up laundry to air dry.

So far this has been fine as it hasn't been too cold yet. However, I did go out today to bring in my sheets and found that a bird had pooped all over them.

I don't have a solution or redeeming element or happy ending to this one. That just sucked.

Bark-A-Lounger

Tonight I saw one of my favorite Barcelona sights yet. It wasn't a Gaudi building or Picasso or a beautiful fountain.

It was a on the sidewalk in front of a restaurant. A tiny Chihuahua resting atop the back of a Collie, relaxing there as though it were a microfiber sectional.

Sadly I did not stop to take a picture as I was running late for a lesson, and that is truly one of my greatest regrets of my life here so far.

I can only hope that they belong to someone who works at the restaurant and that I'll find them there like that again so I can capture the image.

A Church, Some Rides and Chocolate Sandwiches

It goes without saying that there are endless beautiful, amazing sights to see here in Barcelona, but undoubtedly one of the coolest places I've seen so far is called Tibidabo.

It's a church and amusement park sharing the top of a mountain in the city. They are literally right next to each other. The church is gorgeous inside and out- I declared that I wanted to get married there and follow the ceremony with a ride on the roller coaster.

In addition to the beautiful church, incredible views of the city and fun rides, I think my favorite part of Tibidabo was seeing a mother give her children sandwiches that consisted of a baguette sliced open, filled with a bar of chocolate and then pressed together and handed over. How did I never know, or think of on my own, the concept of a Hershey bar sandwich?!

Here are some pictures...



You take an old timey cable car tram up a big hill and pass some really cool houses and buildings on the way.

After you get up the hill, you take this car (they call it a funicular railway) straight up to the top of the mountain.

When you get off of the funicular railway, this church is right in front of you, but all you hear is the sounds of rides and squealing children asking for cotton candy.

This is the amusement park- this picture is taken from the steps of the church.

There are amazing views of the city from up there.

Help Wanted: Americans Need Not Apply

Ok, so my grand plan for living in Spain for a while is contingent on finding a job so that I can support myself with some modicum of comfort while I'm here.

When researching the teaching scene and TEFL certification, everyone tells you that it is relatively easy to find a job and that nobody cares if you're not legal. Obviously it's worked for them and they want you to come spend your money on their programs. I think the program has been great but I'm starting to get a little worried that the job market may have been slightly oversold. I've just started to look over the past week but it looks like this market is no different from the rest of the world in having been affected by the economic bed shitting of the past couple of years.

It seems that schools and businesses care a lot more about you having legal European working papers than I'd previously heard. It's strange to experience what it is like to be an illegal alien trying to get by in another country. You know what you're capable of but something totally irrelevant to your abilities keeps you from practicing and supporting yourself. It sucks.

I'm going to do my best to use my networking and PR skills to sell my "brand," if you will; but if it's an issue of being legal or not, I don't think I can sweet talk my way around that. I'm sure I'll find something eventually, I just don't deal well with not having something lined up to go right from one occupation to another- I was handing out legit business cards at my college graduation party.

Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Hello, Dali

I went to the Dali' Museum in Figueres, Spain yesterday and it totally blew my mind. I can't even put it into words so I thought I'd post a few of my favorite pictures.

...oh, I guess should have mentioned that I can't put things into pictures very well either, but I tried.

Euro Post #1

I'm here, I made it! I am writing this from the office in my Barcelona apartment! As I'm typing I'm listening to car horns, children playing and old ladies shouting down from their balconies.

The trip went pretty smoothly and having my friend (and now roommate) Laura pick me up at the airport was a huge help.

I've only been here a matter of hours but I've already unpacked and seen more handsome men than I can count.

I still need to get some things and move some things around but here are a couple of pictures of my room and the view from my apartment balcony.

I haven't gotten picture frames yet but I wanted to put up some photos of friends and family so I just taped them to my closet for now. How much do you want to bet they will stay there until I leave the place?

The window doesn't actually look at at anything but a wall, but it's still nice to have one- and that way I don't have to worry about closing the blinds.

There was an extra bed frame and I wasn't sure what to do with it, so I stood it up against the wall and hung my scarves and purses on it- I for one think you'd be hard pressed to tell the difference between that and a fall accessories display at Urban Outfitters, don't you?

We'll have to see see how long I can handle the twin bed before heading to Ikea for a bigger one.

Our apartment is on an alley way; this is the view of the main street from the balcony, along with a red truck that honked its horn for 8 and a half minutes.

And this is the rest of our street. You can't really see her too well but there is an old lady hanging a white sheet out to dry. I hope to befriend her before too long so as to recieve baked goods and sweets and maybe the occasional pat on the head.

I'm going to get out and explore the neighborhood tomorrow; tonight I'm so tired from flying overnight that I'm worried I'll get lost and flustered in front of my new neighbors and lose all potential street cred here.

Count Down

So, in less than seven weeks I am going to be boarding a plane and flying to Barcelona to start a new chapter in my life. Obviously this is very exciting, intimidating, exhilarating, scary and a host of other adjectives. Everyone who knows about this trip asks me about it pretty frequently and I actually surprise myself with the sort of lackadaisical manner in which I've been responding. "I'm excited, it'll be cool," I'll reply to enthusiastic inquiries about my trip, or "No, I'm not worried, I'm sure I'll be fine."

I don't really know why this is. I am absolutely excited and think this will be an incredible experience, but for some reason, I'm just very blase' about it right now. Maybe it's just because I get asked about it so frequentl. I can't sustain a high enough level of enthusiasm for every person who asks. It's like when you go out the night before Thanksgiving the first few years after graduating high school and have the exact same conversation with 28 people from your class who you don't really care very much about. "Yeah, I'm at <>, I'm majoring in <>. Dude, did you see how fat <> got?!"

Or at your college graduation party when you answer the same questions from extended family and friends about your plans. "Well, I'm taking the summer to figure out what I want to do. Yes, I know real adults don't get summer vacations. No, I don't want to be a teacher so I guess this will be my last summer off. No, I hadn't heard about how successful your kids are, please tell me."

Maybe when it gets closer, maybe when I have the address of where I'll actually be living or when the other two big dates on my summer calendar (my friend Beth's wedding and a couple events for work)have passed and this is the only thing on the horizon, then it will really sink in. Although maybe it will be good if it doesn't; the blase' attitude could certainly help me fit in with the Catalans.