my host mom called me fat (or a collection of self-reflections)

Technically, she used the word gordita as a term of endearment, but it still made my stomach flip. (Kind of like that time my mom called my brother a little shit for figuring out his Christmas present early... kind of...). Apparently, none of the girls she's hosted in the past have eaten as, erm, well as I do. It's not that hard, really, I just tend to finish whatever she puts on my plate - I figure it's common courtesy and a simple way of becoming more accustomed to the culture by assimilating into family life. And I've been running and playing a lot of pick-up so clearly I'm not sedentary, and really I shouldn't have any need to justify myself. Nevertheless, when Angeles pinched my bum and said 'oi! gordita!' while I was helping her a bit with getting our dinner plates ready, I couldn't help but do a double take. I think it'd be a bit dramatic to say that this simple encounter sent me spiraling, but it has caused me to think, a lot, and especially about who I am as a person, who I believe myself to be and who others perceive me as. Haha maybe that's a little deep, but bear with me. I should first clarify that I've had a lot of time to think since I've been here. I actually wouldn't say that I have much more down time here than I do at Duke, but it's more that I don't have a dozen pressing things to do during my tiempo libre and so it's given me the opportunity to reflect a bit. About since spring of my senior year of high school, I've kind of been fascinated with the idea of how we define ourselves (for a final project, I had to create a metaphor for my definition of 'the self' and the idea has just kind of stuck since arriving at college and essentially recreating my life). So I guess here are some rambling thoughts that this trip has thus far produced for me.

1. I'm an enigma, racially. I honestly don't really know how to talk about race or ethnicity in the most politically correct terms, so I guess I'll just explain how I feel. It seems to me that wherever I go, especially outside of touristy areas and in more places where I actually interact with real madrilenos, I'm stared at. It's not just the oh-look-at-the-obnoxious-american-tourists stares that we attract when travelling in large groups (especially on the Metro), nor is it a particularly uncomfortable and lustful stare of forward foreign men. I don't know that I can adequately describe it, but it's kind of like people glance at me, as everyone glances at everyone else in public settings just long enough to register that there's a person sitting across from you and assess that this person means no danger, and then they glance again, and then they stare and their heads cock to the side ever so slightly. They hear me speak in Spanish to my clearly American classmates and only grow more confused - my accent is not like theirs. De donde es? Inevitably they ask, interestingly enough using the formal form of es instead of the more informal eres as I should deserve due to my age. De los estado unidos. Estoy aqui estudiando para un curso corto del verano. I reply. O, es que no me parece americana. Bueno, que disfrute de la ciudad y que tenga un buen dia. End of conversation. This quick exchange has occurred at least a dozen times with the most random of strangers (all amicable, I assure you), but what I can't figure out is why? Have no fear, it's not particularly put me in a position to question my self-image, but I'm intrigued and I guess to some degree wondering if this is something I will forever face as I grow older and immerse myself more in the world. Again, it's not particularly molestante, but it is a little off-putting and kind of makes me throw up a guard. I've always been proud to be half-Asian, and still am, I only wonder why it is that now, of all times in my life, it feels so much more defining.
2. I am privileged, greatly. Thanks to modern technology, I've been able to keep close in contact with a lot of my friends (in addition to my family, of course, though I'm sure they wish I'd call home more often...). Studying abroad and partaking in 'civic engagement' via the Gates family founded DukeEngage program have culturally evolved to the point where they are not merely great opportunities but rights of passage. And so I find myself fluctuating back and forth between basking in awe at the fact that I've been afforded this amazing experience, and fighting down pangs of jealousy as I hear of the adventures of my friends in random countries or obscure corners of the US doing things that are actually helping people. My goal for the summer was to find a way to cement my fluidity in the Spanish language, and I think that by the end of the program, it will have been accomplished. However, the longer I stay here, the more I sense a nagging feeling in my gut to go out and do something better. One of my greatest regrets to date is that I've never actually done any kind of a service project before. Maybe it's lofty and very first-world of me to say that, but it's true. I don't believe in doing random service for the sake of ticking off hours on a chart or for thoughtlessly passing time to waste, rather I've always said that I think service is something that deserves the heart and soul. It's something you should throw yourself into. But I am a hypocrite as I talk so loftily of an experience I've never had. In all honesty, I almost feel as if God is trying to tell me "You're ready. I've given you gifts and talents and skills and privilege, now figure out how to use them, all of them, to contribute to my Creation." So maybe that's a little intense, but it's true. I had actually written out and submitted an application for a DukeEngage program this summer, but unfortunately it was cancelled for administrative reasons. I think this has been the summer to travel, to safely learn more about myself and about the cultured world so that later on (next summer perhaps?) I can find something that strikes me close enough to home to spark my passions and somehow give back to the world. I want to do more than just work at a desk or party my summer away. I want to make an impact. Please, I ask you do not take anything I have said here to mean that I am at all ungrateful of anything. It is imperative that as you read this you understand that I am so incredibly blessed by this opportunity (and should probably do a better job of showing that to the people who have made it possible). Perhaps the best way to word this is to say that this trip, as opposed to having given closure to any life goals, has so far proved to whet my appetite for more. So far it has been a time, not necessarily of asserting my independence but of understanding what it means to be independent in a way that even while living on my own at Duke I'd never be able to simulate. The trip has taught me how to walk through the world in a way that respects those around me, but also strives to better understand their ways of life. After having gotten to know a bunch of the guys while playing pick-up, as well as a number of other ni-ni's (short for ni trabajar, ni estudiar, so 'neither works nor studies' - aka unemployed jovenes between the ages of 16 and 30) while out and about with our group at night, I've learned to appreciate anew my education. While at Duke, it's easy to complain about this, whine about that or lament the work-load, but so much more important, so much more precious are the purpose it gives us along with the opportunity to figure ourselves out. For now, though, I remind myself to enjoy the moment and the open doors of adventuras cotidianas as I continue to see what this country has in store for me.
3. I'm not an athlete, technically. But sport is so much more than that. In high school, I could never find the words to explain my sport or my love for it. It's something that ties my family together, and it is a vehicle through which I've been able to make friends and meet people. Not to go too far into it, but there's a lot you can read about a person in the way he or she plays. From how much she focuses on technique, to how well he predicts the play, to her awareness of her teammates, to his preference for one foot over the other, and with the ironic help of the language barrier itself as I'm forced to focus more on people than on words, I'm starting to understand how to unveil a persons personality through his or her body language. The sport also gives me an opportunity to express myself without words and without conscious thought - it makes me focus on something other than my thoughts and leaves them to sort themselves out. Over the past two years or so, it has also served as a reference point of sorts for me as my own approach to the sport has radically transformed. The competition used to be my be-all-end-all, without it, I was restless and I didn't know what to do. And then I was the girl who wanted to walk-on, the girl who was always playing with the boys, the quiet and reserved and almost brooding one on the club team. And then I came to know myself by my adamant rejection of the sport and all things associated with it as I immersed myself, almost to the point of drowning, in school work and extracurriculars and things I didn't actually care about to distract myself from the fact that I could no longer play the way I used to. Now, now I think I've finally come to terms with myself and soccer in accepting that it pertains not only to me, but to the world and that as long as I respect it in all of its forms, it will continue to serve me as an avenue for coming to know and understand the cultures and people around me.
4. I'm a nerd, completely. Many on the program have been complaining - of the content of the courses, of their organization, of our tourist trips, of the old people on the bus, of a wasted night when they can't find a good club. Though my family may negate it, I don't particularly consider myself the complaining type, at least not now. Maybe it's because of this, or more likely it is because I am inherently a nerd and enjoy learning in all of its forms, but I feel like I'm about the only person legitimately enjoying the classes here. I suppose it could also have something to do with the fact that the courses are so distinct from the math-y ones I've grown accustomed to during my first two years in Pratt. Nonetheless, I feel like I'm learning something and that, however inutil it may seem now, I'm sure that it will have some use later in life. Ok, so maybe I'm never going to need to prove that I know the correlation of the subjects and styles of Goya's work with Spanish history, but at the least I can say that I have a better understanding of how to look for clues to history within not only the content but the minute details and the artistic process of a work. Or that could just be bullshit, but it's bullshit I find interesting. I only wish I didn't feel like one of the only ones who is actually reading every page of every book we are assigned. I suppose some things never change.
5. I'm not fat. And hopefully, I never will be. Better said, I'd like to try to strive to always be proud and make the most of the space on earth that I am privileged enough to call my own.

...yesterday's list continued...

Picking back up with #6 - pick-up - which is fitting, I think, considering that soccer, as always, has returned to surround and impregnate my vida cotidiana. After my first week here, I found a futsal court across the river and about a block away, and since then I've been going, about once or twice a week, to play. I guess you could say that I've been making more friends - since arriving at Duke the sport has most impacted me not as a means to stay fit but as an introduction to some of my best friends (Larson, I'm looking at you!). It was about 6p on a Sunday the first time that I showed up there - an hour that I've since learned is dedicated to the kids. I went with my Turkish friend from class (who, I should mention, has since been banned from the court because he doesn't know how to control his temper when he plays....oops....) and we joined the youths. Mostly boys, but a couple girls in whom I could see much of my younger self, swarmed the court - the little ones versus the slightly more mature but also more arrogant adolescents. Regardless of the age playing, the rules of this court are the same: 4 field players + a keeper on each side, games to 2 goals, king of the court-style. But there's also a level of hierarchy I've not experienced while playing pick-up in the US. There is, I'm beginning to realize, a subtle distinction between the regulars here and the guys that just drop in from time to time and the newbies like me. With the end of each individual game, the winning team reserves the right to swap players as they like. Do something to have pissed them off, and even though you won you may be kicked off the team in favor of someone on the bench that they've met previously. The first three or four times I ventured out to the court, it was a constant battle of proving myself. By the kids I was quickly accepted, by the adolescents quickly rejected until they found themselves three goals down in a slightly longer game when there was no one on the bench waiting to play. Anyone roughly over the age of 35 seems to have no problem with letting me have a shot to prove myself, but I have to be vocal about it. By far the most difficult age group to break into has been my own (roughly anyone between the ages of 16 and 25 takes a lot of convincing). I'd like to brag for a moment now that I was invited to join a winning team within the first 30 seconds of my arrival at the court today. It was, quite possibly, the ultimate sign of respect. While playing with the kids that first day, I had the opportunity to speak with one of their fathers who was more or less making sure that no fights broke out and that the boys made sure to include both  the girls and the younger players. He had two kids their, a son of 11 years and a daughter of 8, and he explained to me that they came from a slightly better part of town, but that they come, every Sunday afternoon, to this park to play because it is a court that attracts a high level of talent, an immensely diverse range of players and the court is in good shape. On this court, I've met, among others, 3 venazolanos, a cubano who's about 16 and STILL doesn't trust me, a couple brasilenos who are quickly recognizable by their tendency to move the play from the cement to the air, a Moroccan 19 year-old named Ruben (with a particularly gutterally rolled 'r' at the front of his name) who is ALWAYS at the court - he seems to be more or less the older brother of everyone there, everybody knows him by name, all of the kids always run up and give him huge hugs, and he's on speaking terms with this one homeless guy (at least I assume he's homeless, but I probably shouldn't judge by appearance). Though I've never had and probably never will have a direct conversation with him, this homeless guy is one of my favorite parts of this court. He likes to watch, generally from the back left corner and outside the court's bars, and cheer on his favorites. After my first day their, he'd christened me 'la jugadosa' and every time I'm there, he shouts amicably at the men on the court that they should give me a chance, that they can't just put me on a team but should pass to me too, that they should watch the way I run because they might learn something, that they shouldn't underestimate me when defending because they'll be embarrassed regardless. Generally I head over to the court after I've finished my homework for the day and games are already underway; I always stay until the games break-up, and as we all leave the court, joking and reminiscing about various plays, this homeless guy thanks us all for letting him watch and for not asking him to leave before he does, in fact go his own way.

everyday is an adventure

You might think that reaching a point of some semblance of a daily rhythm would slow things down a bit, make life seem more calm. My experiences this week have proven quite the contrary. Most likely, I think this has to do with the fact that while yes, a routine of daily life in terms of meals and classes and homework has been established, each day continues to bring new experiences and therefore new adventures. If you haven't caught my drift by this point in my trip, I've more or less been developing this idea of a quintessential adventure, I suppose you could call it. My emotions have roller-coastered a bit since arriving here - I keep going back and forth between basking in the fact that I'm privileged enough to be on this trip to Spain and a nagging desire to push the limits of my new found European freedom further and travel more. But then I come back to realize that any weekend of travel is a weekend away from Madrid, a city that I have so come to love for all of its parts and of which I still have so much more to explore. I think I've finally come to the conclusion (at least temporarily) for my definition of an adventure, a new take on life, perhaps (or at least a better articulated one). Every day is an adventure waiting to happen. It doesn't matter what you do or where you go, who you're with or or without, as long as you make the most of it. As long as you go out with the intention of pushing your boundaries a little bit further, in some direction or other, and forge an exploration. I suppose that is to say that the only way not to have an adventure a day would be to hide, either in doors or behind the shelter of a monotonous routine.

And so as I've been out adventuring and whatnot over the past week, the time to dedicate to updating this blog has fallen by the wayside a bit. Although I wish I could do each of these events the justice of their own posts, I suppose a list will in this case have to suffice as tomorrow morning's class will find my group of five presenting about our most recent novel "Agosto, octubre" by Andres Barba and I should probably get some sleep tonight, though I feel as though I could stay and write for hours.

1. "Seis puntos sobre Emma" - While we're here, the Duke in Spain program administration has subscribed us to Madrid Cultura y Arte, a sort of pop-culture and special events advertisement group. We get weekly emails with random events around the city and have a little card (that honestly isn't often all that useful) that can get us discounts at very select places. While most of the events aren't conveniently timed with respect to our program, Monday night they discounted a new movie Seis puntos sobre Emma about a blind woman who wants a baby but doesn't think she knows how to love someone. It was a refreshing breath of optimistic air to contrast nicely with our class that is actually concentrated about the theme of violence in Spanish arts and history. On the other hand, I think I might actually have liked it in English too. If you're ever randomly looking for a somewhat chick-flicky spanish movie, I'd recommend it.
2. Paella, Gazpacho y Rosquillas - so ironically this one also directly relates to that card/discount thing...last Sunday (yes, that was the day that we got back from Barcelona if you're angling for exact chronology, in which case I apologize that this list is out of order) we took a cooking class! While the size of the class (15) prohibited from quite as much hands-on work in the class, I'm coming home with recipes for all three dishes and a mental picture of how things are supposed to look along each step of the way. That being said, I still think my Angeles makes better paella and gazpacho - over the next couple weeks I think I'm going to have to ask for a private cooking lesson of my own. (Then again, there was that one waiter we met at a desserts cafe a couple weeks ago who gave us his number and offered private cooking lessons. Yeah, no, I don't think we're going to hit that one up....).
3. Toledo - our excursion for the week. We went on Friday and spent literally all day in this gorgeous old city. It was one of my favorite sites from my summer 2010 trip and I was even more excited this time around to have the opportunity to learn even more. For such a small and now largely dead (save for tourism and a bit of artisan work) city, it is SO rich in history. In addition to its title as a former capitol of Spain, Toledo is one of the sites that has, at various points in its history, served as a pivotal religious location for each Islam, Judaism and Catholicism. We visited a TINY mosque that was converted into a church and is now largely just used as a tourist attraction, the local cathedral (a staple on each of our excursions), and the synagogue which also features a large amount of Christian indoctrination and is again now a point of tourism. We were also afforded the opportunity to get lost amongst the towering sand-colored walls and cobble-stone streets - a very fairy-tale like experience if I do say so. Picture the kingdom/castle town in "Tangled" to a tee. The day before our excursion (Thursday) had been the festival of Corpus Christi, so the already breath-taking architecture was still decked out with flags, lanterns, flowers and garlands of all colors.
4. Class movies - in the violence class, they're, well, violent. We've watched La Caza, which was about a bunch of war vets who go on a hunting trip and end up murdering each other as they're over taken by memories and frustrations, as well as Las Vacas, which took place from the end of the 3a Guerra Carlista to the beginning of La Guerra Civil. In the other class, more a more artistic way of looking at the past, we've watched not one, not two, but now THREE movies about Goya, each one more confusing than the last. Ah well, at least I can say that if not for these classes, I'd never have seen these, um, moving films.
5. Spanish TV - Emilio likes to watch TV a lot. He says its his window to the world since walking gives him pain. He spends a large chunk of the day, generally after lunch, flipping back and forth between the news channels. I asked him the other day where he stands on political issues (not that I fully comprehend them myself as politics, no matter how hard I try to focus on and understand them, never cease to fly at least a yard over my head) and he responded, most curiously, that in his position in life holding a specific and/or obstinate stance on any issue doesn't do him any good or bad. He prefers to try to understand as much as he can about all sides of each issue rather than form much of an opinion on anything, which for Caitlin and I has proved quite useful and informative. I think he also really likes talking about this stuff and feeling like he's teaching us about the world. He has so much to say and we're all ears. Emilio also appreciates most other forms of television entertainment - around dinner time I like to sit with him and watch anything and everything from game shows to sitcoms (moment of bragging - it's so exciting to have reached the point where I feel like I can genuinely understand the humor!) to soccer games (including a few women's pro games) to old westerns (he really likes Clint Eastwood) to the Simpsons and Scooby Doo. Watching American programs dubbed in Spanish is one of the oddest things I think I've ever seen. I've yet to get over watching Sarah Jessica Parker parade around NYC in bright pink pants at warp speed (they alter the speed of the image so that the events match up better with the translated words) and rambling in a very distinctly and high pitched Spanish voice.
6. Pick-up -  at some point, I promise I will write a full post about this, but suffice it to say that I've resorted back to my old habits, my most easy means of making friends. In El parque de Atenas, which is across the river and about a block away, I've been playing pick-up ball in a futsal court. I've played with all ages and made all sorts of friends. Although I've never spoken to him directly, I've even won over the respect of an apparently homeless man with a thick gray beard (I assume he lives in or somewhere near the park) who calls me Jugadosa, essentially meaning "the girl who plays ball", and yells at the men on the court to let me play, and then to remember to pass to me.
7. Eurocopa 2012 - 'nuff said.
8. La Carrera Solidaria de Santander - so Caitlin and I ran a 10k this morning. I'll elaborate more on that and the following four adventures tomorrow. For now, I'm beat.
9. A trilingual experience
10. El Rastro part 2
11. Cafe Delic
12. Anita

making friends

I'm growing up. Or at least that's the way it feels. I returned to my homestay from our trip to Barcelona about an hour ago and all I can say is that I feel like I'm growing up. To be honest, I think that this most largely has to do with the fact that this is the first trip of any sort that I've taken (granted, it was a trip within a trip... but still) and been completely and 100% responsible for myself and every decision in the process. I successfully managed to stay within the 400 euro budget I set for myself (including train tickets, lodging for three nights, food, outings and general touristy expenses - I think I overestimated how much I'd spend on food and travel but underestimated the costs of going out while there - good to know for future trip planning). We stayed at Hostal Mambo Tango near the Metro stop Paral-lel and it was incredible. Nothing was fancy, not much was included in the price, and yet I would never have wanted to have stayed there in any other way because it gave me the opportunity to meet, however briefly, so many people. Young travelers through Europe seem to carry themselves with a certain down-to-earth air. Everyone is independent, working their way through their excursions on their own agendas, and yet because of this very independence it makes us all more open. It is unofficially acknowledged that we come from different walks of life, but because none particularly want to be alone however independent we may be, we end up making friends.

Mambo Tango was a youth hostal that's part of a chain of hostals in Barcelona called Sant Jordi, and the age of most travelers ranged between 17 and 26. From our program, we took up four of the thirty-five beds the hostal offered. Incidentally, there were a total of SIX Duke students/alums there (including ourselves). And so I introduce to you the first of the friends I've made.


THE DUKIES
1 - Taylor and Kemal - Both Duke students in our program. Taylor I've known since freshman year through activity in the Duke Catholic Center. Kemal is a year younger than us, Turkish and VERY proud of it, and studying Civil Engineering at Duke. The two of them, Caitlin and I planned our weekend away to Barcelona together.

2 - Ryan - Not actually a participant of Duke in Spain 2012, but Kemal's roommate for the coming year at Duke and doing some sort of alternative immersion program in Madrid as well. He tagged along for this weekend away with us.

3 - Christine - Ok, so this coincidence is actually really cool. Taylor, Kemal, Caitlin and I occupied 4 of 9 beds in the first floor room of the hostal, Christine was also allocated to our room. She graduated from Duke undergrad in 2008 as a pre-med BME, just finished up med school at UPenn and was on the end of her month and a half long trip back-packing through Spain before returning to Durham for residency. I had the opportunity to chat with her quite a bit - who knew I'd actually end up getting applicable life-plan advice from the common room of our hostal?

4 - Brandt, Ian, Sean, Madison, Leasly and Elizabeth - These guys comprised the other group of six from our program that stayed in an apartment right on La Rambla. Brandt is a rising sophomore from Pittsburgh. Ian is my year and was actually in the same six person Spanish class as Caitlin and I fall of our freshman year. Sean is also my year and from New York - he's working on walking onto the Duke LAX team. Madison I actually introduced in my first post - she's from Indiana and plays club soccer with me. Leasly (pronounced Leslie) is a rising sophomore from Los Angeles and in our program in Madrid she and Elizabeth are roommates.

MORE HOSTAL FRIENDS
1 - So I feel bad because I can't actually remember this kid's name, but he's definitely near the top of my list of most interesting people I've ever met. He's half Kenyan and half Indian, but grew up and still lives in England. He's about a year younger than me and at the end of his gap year before starting university in the fall. He spent the first ten of the past twelve months working to save up enough money to backpack through Europe on his own for 45 days and Barcelona was the end of his journey. He'll be studying chemistry when he starts school in the fall, and we talked a lot about the similarities and differences between American and English school systems. He was also in our nine-bed room.

2 - Mateo - A 25 year-old Electrical and Computer Engineer from Mexico who's first words to me were something along the lines of "Before you start talking to me, you should know that I'm a huge nerd". He specializes in plasma and some of the more material science type applications of electrical engineering, and it was actually kind of refreshing to talk engineering and tech with someone (yes I realize I'm professing my own nerdy status here). I've been more or less enjoying my courses here, but talking with Mateo reminded me just how much I do enjoy engineering and science, and I'll confess I kind of covet and could easily see myself living his kind of lifestyle about six years from now if I ultimately decide not to pursue medicine. Talking with Mateo was also particularly fun because his level of English about matched my proficiency in Spanish and so conversations flowed in and out of the two languages easily and almost imperceptibly. The hostal organized a bar crawl in conjunction with a couple of the other Sant Jordi hostals in the middle of Barcelona last night where they paid for our cover and guided us to a couple of places in a less touristy part of the city. While there I introduced Mateo to Long Island Iced Tea, a drink that so fascinated him that I honestly don't know how to describe his excitement about the drink that tasted not quite like iced tea, not quite like lemonade and not at all like alcohol. I thought a few of my Duke friends (you know who you are) might appreciate that little anecdote.

3 - Andrew and crew - Andrew was a year or so out of college and lives in NYC. He majored in English and now works for a company that essentially expedites and sorts out calls to complain about police. I jumped into the conversation where he was explaining his job a little late, so I'm not sure I can actually do justice to how interesting his work sounded, but it seems like he answers, records and sorts calls and complaints to determine whether or not and which kind of authorities should be alerted about them. He was in Barcelona following up a trip to Israel to visit family with his sister and her boyfriend, who were also in Barcelona with him and thus comprised the rest of his 'crew'. They were highly entertaining - the sister was super chill and seemed to walk around in a constant state of embarrassment because her brother and boyfriend had this kind of goof-ball-tag-team relationship that I found highly entertaining. They went on the bar crawl with us and suffice it to say that Andrew and his sister's boyfriend were the reason the middle of the bar became a dance floor. Come to think of it, the middle of the Metro became a music-less dance floor thanks to them as well.

4 - Piotr - Piotr / Pedro / Peter / Peeta was from Poland. Literally, he just up and decided to come to Barcelona to learn Spanish. He's staying at the hostal for three weeks while he takes a course there. Haha, I wish him the best of luck with this endeavor. He had shoulder-length (to be frank, slightly greasy) blonde hair that he pulled back in a ponytail with a neon orange scrunchy while we were out.

5 - Thomas - Originally from Cleveland, now lives in Boston, but went to college in France and China. He lives a kind of mod-podge-ish lifestyle. Maybe well-rounded is a better way to describe it. He studied economics in school and now teaches and tutors college kids in it, in addition to working part time for a small start-up and as a consultant for another small fashion company. He looked like Johnny Depp sans makeup, tattoos and piercings, and honestly his mannerisms and the way he carried himself continued to remind me of Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow.

6 - Daniel - From Portugal but went to school in Madrid. Daniel was absolutely awesome. He worked the evening shift of the front desk of the hostal and was our guide for the bar crawl. He was just super friendly, cooked us lentils for 2 euro a piece our second night there. My conversations with Daniel also flowed in and out of languages, and he was particularly entertained that, thanks to my awesome Brasilian friends, I could understand him more or less when he muttered to himself in Portuguese. Daniel was also like a fountain of knowledge for doing particularly unique stuff around the city - he was the one that had suggested we rent bikes for a couple of hours to get around cheaply and easily, he directed us to the Gracia neighborhood where Caitlin and I wandered for a few hours and honestly which might have been my favorite part of the city, and overall literally just made our stay at the hostal the incredible experience that it was by serving as a catalyst for creating a feel of community amongst the guests.

¡barcelona!

So I don´t have a ton of time to write at the moment, but since I´ve got WIFI (in Spain pronounced wee-fee, I still giggle everytime I hear it) I thought I´d give a quick update. As suggested by the title of this post, I´m in Barcelona! Classes with our program are Monday-Thursday, and most weekends we go on a day trip on Friday. This weekend, however, we´ve been granted a full four-day weekend so about twenty or so of us from the program decided to take advantage of the time to take a trip to Barcelona. I was a little bit hesitant at first to book this trip seeing as there are so many parts of Spain I´ve not yet had been able to experience and I visited Barcelona while on a school trip in the summer of 2010, but so far I couldn´t be happier with my decision to come here. We researched extensively to figure out how we wanted to travel, where we wanted to stay and to get a rough idea of where we might want to eat and what we might want to see while we´re here. I´ve tried to write myself a budget, or at least to give myself an idea of just how much money I´d be spending this weekend. It makes me feel oh so mature, haha. After class yesterday we booked it to take the Metro straight into the train station in Madrid from which we took a highly discounted trip on the AVE (Spain´s super high-speed train) straight to Barcelona in about a two and a half hour long trip. We spent our time taking a break from practicing our Spanish and playing an extensive number of card games (who knew the Turks had a version of BS that requires even more cunning and deceit than our American version). Five of us booked a very highly rated and well recommended Hostal that´s just out of the center of all of the commotion of Barcelona, while others from our program are staying closer to La Rambla (aka the aforementioned center of all the commotion). We thoroughly enjoyed a dinner of seafood and paella last night and a relaxing morning at the beach today. This has been my first experience with European beaches, thus the whole topless trend took a little getting used to. Caitlin and I chose not to participate in this aspect of the culture, though I would definitely say I´m impressed with the confidence level of all of the women on the beach. People have no shame, and, as far as I can tell, they love their bodies and aren´t at all afraid to show them off. Along those lines, PDA and social conduct seems much more liberal in Spain than in the US, but maybe I´m just slightly prudish... Regardless, in both Barcelona and Madrid, if there´s a couple within two blocks of you, they´re immediately going to show off just how much they, um, care for, each other. Anyway, we then went to the Mercat Saint Josef, a slightly touristy but still very awesome market, for a light lunch of fruit and freshmade pasta before heading out to rent bikes (6 euro for 2 hours) to see some more of the city. If any of you ever venture out to Barcelona (or Madrid for that matter), I highly advise taking a bike tour of the city. It´s a lot more bike friendly than any city I´ve visited and you can just cover so much ground quickly and inexpensively. We toured through a few parks, saw some great architecture and monuments, keeping the cathedral, La Sagrada Familia, which is still under construction as a combination of modern and gothic styles, as our final destination. We then enjoyed a casual cafe in the Gracia neighborhood before heading back. More updates on the adventures of the weekend later!

¡esperanza - hijo de p***!

** disclaimer - started writing this on Friday evening, but didn't have a chance to finish it until now **

To call today a full day would just about be the understatement of this trip. There's so much I'd like to tell you about, but I think I'm going to have to focus on what is most prevalent in my mind at the moment. Well, that sounds a little grave, which it really isn't at all - just a lot to absorb. Tonight was el final de la Copa del Rey, or the championship of the top tier Spanish professional soccer league (La Liga). My homestay is actually extremely close to El Estadio Manzanares, home of Atletico Madrid and host stadium for tonight's game. Unfortunately, the cheapest tickets for this game lay somewhere around 600 euro so attending the game was out of the question, but instead Caitlin and I had the opportunity to watch the game as I've never seen a soccer game before. About half a kilometer along the river from our homestay and in the opposite direction of the stadium was situated an ENORMOUS tent of wide red and white stripes. What should it be but la carpa de los aficionados de Athletic Bilbao. We've been running along the river most days this week, which had given us a chance to witness the construction of the tent. What is more, while watching the news with Emilio earlier this week, we heard that this tent would house 150,000 L of cerveza amongst other refreshments and food.

We went to check things out about two hours before kick-off and already could barely walk through along the paseo that is normally so spacious and quaint. Caitlin's convinced me to run with her a bit since we've been here and the paseo is about 7,60 km long in total. We live at the 2,70 mark and all along the way there are various riverside cafe's and restaurants, ingenious wood and rope playgrounds that remind me of low-ropes courses and lots of architecturally fascinating bridges that cross the river at various parts. To say that the place was packed would be to say that we have to wait in line for tickets to the Duke-UNC game. Everywhere I turned and as far as the eye could see were aficionados clad in the red and white stripes or green accents of Athletic Bilbao. Hands down it was the most incredible way to watch a game of soccer that I have experienced (and believe me, I've seen a remarkable number of partidos). People pushed back and forth as they tried to move throughout the crowd, but mostly they were respectful, everyone giving a knowing and apologetic or forgiving glance as they brushed into people. Even the drunk ones were nice about it!

But the presence of so many supporters of Bilbao had a greater significance - it was more or less a political step, a subtle way of showing up the Spanish government. Bilbao is located in El Pais Vasco, in English known as the Basque country. In recent years, what with the economic crisis and everything, this region has been talking of seceding and asserting itself as its own country to try to shed some of the pressures of Spain's collective debt. By so many flooding the streets of Madrid, Spain's gubernatorial capitol, for a game that they were pretty much guaranteed to lose the Bilbao fans of all ages and walks of life quietly demonstrated their presence. What is more, the Basques have their own language, the only sub-dialect spoken in Spain that doesn't really sound like what we normally think of as Spanish (Castellano, the language most popularly spoken in Spain) called Euskera. It was interesting, as we talked a bit with some chicos about our age that so ingrained in them was this more or less peaceful rebellion against Madrid that though they could speak and understand Castellano just fine, they elected to reply to us in broken English mixed with Euskera. We had a couple of kind of funny experiences with this language barrier, to be honest. One guy (25 would be a low estimate for his age, I think) told me he was in love with me and gave his number but not his name, at which point Caitlin and I decided to pretend to catch sight of a friend in the crowd and politely excused ourselves to find 'our friend'. Towards the end of the game we were having a rather broken and cyclic conversation with a couple of boys closer to our age (I'd say they were between 19-22). They kept saying something along the lines of "While you are in Spain, be careful of the Spanish boys. Basque boys are the good ones. Good Basque boys." I'm not entirely sure what they were trying to achieve with this, but we could share a good laugh and they taught us a bunch of the cheers for Athletic Bilbao, which unfortunately have two many maldicciones for me to want to write them out. Suffice it to say that the title of this post was the tamest of these cheers.

las fotos de alcalá de henares

Our excursion of the weekend was to Alcalá de Henares yesterday. Historical significance? It was the first ever 'campus town', complete with its own traditions of embarrassing students who flunk, its own prison for suspensions and courtyards upon courtyards of  gorgeous flowers and buildings. I think if I attended a university like that I'd never get any studying done because I'd always be staring at everything around me. At least Duke's got a couple of eye sores (read: Gross Chem) to keep me from always walking around in awe!