Visitallie

This week has been a wee bit rainy, but it's a welcome respite from four months of excessive heat and humidity. My dad and his assistant, Sharon are here this week for business--they're doing a bunch of presentations at universities in Catalunya for CU's exchange program. Sharon and I have a date to go to the Palau de Musica de Catalunya for a concert on Wednesday and my father refuses to come...so that'll be fun. We spent their first day here laying on the beach. Sharon was forbidden to take her top off. My dad and I spent a day/night in Tarragona, a beautiful formerly Roman city just south of Barcelona. I'd been there before, but had completely erased it from my memory until we walked up to the giant cathedral and everything flooded back. It rained pretty much the whole time, but that didn't stop us from swimming in the ocean. Also the sight of a dead rat (DEAD RAT) on the shore was similarly not enough to stop us from swimming in the ocean. I'm starting to think maybe I need to reevaluate my desperate need and goal for going in the water every time I go to the beach. Our friends Carme and Danny took us to dinner, and it was really interesting to learn how regulated education is at the university level by the government. Chemical engineers here for example have more than 60 percent of their curriculum specified by the government, rather unrelated to their field. Students learn to not only design a treatment process (chemical eng), but how to build an entire plant from electrical to structural. Super engineers. It made me feel both totally lazy and undereducated, and really blessed to live in a place where I elect what I want to study and am essentially guaranteed a focused and unhindered quality education. And to top it off the Spanish government keeps saying the upcoming November vote is illegal and they won't hear of it. SO THAT WILL BE FUN. I also brought Pa to church, which must have been a hilarious experience for him since it was entirely in Spanish, but he sang the songs anyways and managed to mostly stay awake. They're here until Friday.

Another highlight of the week included taking a page out of a chimpanzee's book and grooming my roommate. I'm not kidding. My Japanese roommate approaches near hysterics when she finds a stray white hair on her head. This week, she had the lovely opportunity of finding one at the nape of her neck, out of reach for self-plucking. So I was employed to tear the small white hair from her head and then ensure no other stragglers remained. I thought she was kidding for probably ten minutes. But then she wasn't, so that happened. Another great thing was upon meeting my dad, she got extremely flustered and told me she has so many things she wants to talk to him about but doesn't know English and is distraught.

I've also signed my self up for the Bicing program. Which is Barcelona's bike share program and one of the most wonderful things in the entire world. It's so convenient, and available only to people who are residents in Barcelona, so it's the latest part of my scheme to assimilate here. Speaking of which, both my local favorite bakery and corner cafe have finally recognized me as more than just a blond American, resulting in free gifts and great non-tourist conversation.

I spent my Friday night with eight of the most outrageous human beings I've ever met. For those of you who don't know what YoungLife is, it's a Christian ministry that befriends weird kids who don't normally get excited or even know what church is. I've sort of done it in the states, but historically my family has been all about supporting international YoungLife so that's kind of our thing instead. Anyways, Luis (the area director) called me to say they were having their leader meeting Friday night and wanted me to come to share all my experience (what experience? who knows). So I hopped on the metro and rode it farther than I thought possible to a random barrio that certainly was no longer real Barcelona. And then it was dark and kind of sketchy so I ran all the way to the church and arrived kind of hot and bothered for this meeting. It was exactly like walking into YoungLife in America, except they all spoke Spanish/Catalan. Got my first taste of singing in Catalan, which pretty much only convinced me that I need to take an intro to Catalan class since the pronunciations are
nothing like Spanish.

Anyways, it was really cool to get to go and share a teeny piece of life with some of the few Christians in Barcelona. Their desire to love on the jovenes (young people) here is just like some of the YLers I know back home, and their authentic sense of community is infectious. That was clearly conveyed by the fact that I was suddenly roped into attending a 2 am McDonald's run because what else would you do with eight of your new best friends? We planned the next club (youth meeting), and they kept asking for ideas for games. I real fast learned that America's version of ridiculous and hilarious doesn't really translate well. Apparently not everyone thinks swallowing live goldfish or blending up and chugging an entire happy meal is fun. But in all seriousness, it was really refreshing to spend some time in Christian community and learn about the manifestation of their faith in Barcelona. Churches are really small here, one of 250 people is considered a mega church, but 30-40 is much more common. And the interesting thing is none of the leaders is just bumming around with ample free time. One woman is a scientist in a laboratory that does something with something that eats oxygen, another is an engineer, a couple are in school...But these people volunteer their time to live out their faith and do it for free because no one else is and showing kids a piece of God is more important than anything else.

At one point Luis was talking about plans for the next week, and I asked a clarifying question and then accidentally heard myself volunteer to teach on 1 Thessalonians (a book of the bible). UM WHAT. No idea how that happened or even what 1 Thessalonians is about or how to even say anything about that in Spanish, so We've got a lot to do. Probably also committed myself to going to the YL Europe conference in Madrid in Novemb.

I have some homework to do from my roommates. They had a dinner party here last week, and one of the guys swears by the success of his system of annually answering 20 life questions. Basically they're all goal-oriented and involve things you want in your future like, where do I want to live or how much money do I want to make, etc, etc. We all made an agreement to answer the questions in secret notebooks and not tell anyone, and then we'll have a dinner party in a month where we can revel in the shock that all of these things are coming to fruition. He swears by it.

Lastly, I took three pictures this week. So thought I'd share all of them with you. Oops. 

La Sagrada Familia, right by my apartment.

Roman amphitheater in Tarragona

Cathedral in Tarragona

Lots of love.

xoxo.

Castellallie

This week has been wonderful. I've been here long enough that I'm starting to have favorite cafes and places to go, and I'm hoping if I return enough these people will realize I'm not just a dumb tourist passing through. I've put a lot of effort into blending in, and I thought it was going well. But then this week I realized that while I'm trying to employ the Spanish accent of lithping all "c" and "z" sounds, I accidentally am alwayth lithping all "s" thoundth too. Way to go Alan. Real thmart. Might just have to dye my hair black and surgically remove my freckles and four inches of height. 

Another great Catalan adventure involved setting up my online login. You're all probably sick of hearing about admin, but I think the fact I've done 86% of this in Catalan is hilarious. I had to pick a security question, which although I can usually guess what Catalan means, these questions might as well have been in Chinese. So I chose one at random and gave a random answer. Now to remember which one I chose...

We had a small break from sweltering humidity this week in Barcelona. My beach day was replaced with reading children's books in Spanish with my 36 year old Japanese roommate. Blessings come in all forms. We also witnessed a real life police crime scene investigation across the plaza from our apartment. Either that or the filming of the next Law and Order. Policemen with gloves and cameras. The real deal. But we'll never know why because the windows are now completely boarded up.

This week was another major Catalunyan festival. Or maybe just Barcelonian. La Merce. I think it's for the patron saint of Barcelona. Which is odd because only 1% of the festivities (a closing mass) had anything to do with her, and the other 99% were just giant moments of celebration.The Barcelona/Catalunya orchestra gave a free concert in the park in the middle of a giant downpour. Really cool to listen to a symphony and stare at four hundred umbrellas. Probably my favorite part of the festival was Wednesday. We went to Plaza Sant Jaume and watched a bunch of people in giant costumes bob up and down together. Each barrio got a pair of giants. This was followed by las castells. Think human pyramid except not on your hands and knees and not something any American can do. They started with just stacking four people standing on each other's shoulders. And I thought that was crazy. Until the towers started running across the square. And then started growing until at least seventy people were involved in each one, and each layer had multiple people. It's really something else to see tiny baby five year old girls climb up the human towers and then slide back down the humans. I don't think I would have been able to take it seriously if eighteen hands were grabbing my butt all at the same time. But maybe that's part of the thrill.

 La Merce also meant several of the sights around the city had free admission. I accidentally walked 22 kilometers one day to go visit castle Montjuic. I planned to eventually get on the metro but that obvi never happened. The castle wasn't the most spectacular of castles I've been to, but it had a glorious view of Barcelona and a rather twisted history of fighting for ownership with the Spanish government. Barcelona didn't actually get to keep the castle until 2007, and as late as the 60s people were still being tortured and executed inside. I didn't know these things existed outside of the Medieval era. Shows what I know about the world.

The whole festival finished Wednesday night with the most spectacular fireworks show and largest crowd of my entire life. A giant screen was set up in Plaza de Espana and they broadcasted a 45 minute documentary detailing the history in Barcelona (I only understood like 36% since it was in Catalan) and exposing the region's cultural identity, all the while having fireworks exploding in theme. In theme. Like soundtracks do for movies. It was amazing, but also meant I got four hours of sleep for class today and really struggled.

My Japanese roommate discovered the month of November this week. She was more excited than children waiting for Santa. She still struggles to understand full conversations, but her sudden exclamation of the one word she gets always kills me. I also discovered a market right by my house that was created for me. It's perfection in every way in that it sells everything I adore and is a haven for treasure hunting and everything costs less than 3 euros. Probably haggling for my paella pan and my 2015 wardrobe here.

Maybe it's because I haven't met many English speakers so the only English I hear is in my head or maybe it's because I'm fast approaching graduation and being thrown out into unwanted responsibility or maybe it's because I'm in Europe and writing a blog, but I spend a lot of time reflecting on everything here, something I haven't done in years. At home my life feels far too fast paced to waste any time just sitting and thinking, but here I'm loving being able to take a moment to freeze a memory in my brain or to smile at why something is so different or to appreciate the beauty of humans. Just being thankful for the many many ways the Lord has blessed me and kept his hand in every part of this sabbatical. 

One final thought to leave you with.

The metro is home to endless photo booths. This is apparently the method of choice for passport photos. I'm sorely tempted to climb into one of these and create an updated version of my 2012 Glam Shot from China. That might be my next post.

xoxo.

Flamencallie.

Spain is just one giant how did I get here moment. I had that thought this week in the middle of a intense conversation about Spain's attempts to propose an anti-abortion law with my roommate, when I learned about wave celerity in Catalan, and when a group of enthusiastic Zambians in Sevilla. This is a country where Greek yoghurt is cheaper than normal. My only complaint is the number of times I've seen bright yellow dog pee flooding towards me through cracks in the brick sidewalks. Or the constant fear I live in of stepping in something worse.

Every time I try to explain why I'm here to other students, it's a total adventure. Most of the student friends I've made are part of this two year multi-country master's program and are all on scholarship. The rest have nicely organized agreements with their home university or go to UPC normally. It's hilarious to say Hi, Yes, I only have seven hours of class, and am just here by myself, and have no idea what's going on. But then again I pay 1/3 of what most of them pay for housing.

It's also extremely strange to be taking engineering classes in a different country. Besides being in metric and sometimes a smattering of languages, the content is just like what I'd be learning in the US. Which while it totally makes sense and should be encouraging that the world learns the same things, it's so strange because I didn't really expect it. And it's strange because NONE of the students are anything like the engineers at Cal Poly. I can't even explain it. I'm used to a group of boisterous competitors who joke with the professor and spend 70 hours outside of class in extracirriculars. But here they're all silent in class and never engage with the professor and are just so different. But it's great too because learning foreign engineering is also about learning foreign engineers. We also only have two tests and I know students go home and study every night and are busy with school work, but I can't possible imagine how.

But two miracles happened to me this week. The first was in the realm of admin. I began my Tuesday with big plans to spend all day in Spanish government offices begging for an identification number to open a bank account. In a whole convoluted process, I had to go to the bank first. I ended up going to three banks, and leaving each after a mix of frustration with them not being helpful or having extremely long lines, until I found a Catalan bank full of angels. They actually, um, helped me notice, that although everywhere online and in person and everything says NIEs are NEVER given to lowly folks with six month visas, I apparently have one. So that was great. And five minutes later I had a Spanish bank account. Except all the agreements are in Catalan, so that's been fun reading those...

The second miracle is almost bigger. I have a crystal earring that I wear and I noticed the crystal had fallen out and was devastated. Then today I got a call from the bank saying they needed my US address so I had to go back in. And SITTING ON THE COUNTER WAS MY TEENY CRYSTAL. Bless them. They had no idea.

In other news, my Japanese roommate has been in Portugal this week. I told her to send us pictures of her adventures. Faithfully, every night, Rocio and I have received EVERY picture she's taken. It's so funny. She also fed me shots of cherry liquor that she brought back from Obidos. I panicked and thought it would taste like medicine and was in total fear. Until I found out Portugese cherry liquor goes in chocolate shot cups. CHOCOLATE. And tastes nothing like medicine. Or cherries. And is amazing. Can't wait for Portugal.

I met the director of Barcelona YoungLife this week as well. Luis. Having so little class makes it almost feel like I'm not studying abroad and I just randomly moved to Spain, which is kind of true. But this also means that while it takes a bigger effort to make friends, I desire to invest in places beyond the elite clubs you stay in until 5 am. So I found Luis and his two recently vaccinated and candy-bribed children in the middle of a mall and learned about Spain's 1%. Here, only 1% (probably less) of the population proclaims the wealth they hold in faith in Jesus. The rest don't care or are rather turned off by the way the Catholic church and often corrupt government abuse their position. I was honestly shocked to hear so few Christians exist here. But I may be spending Wednesdays with chicas from the barrio trying to make friends.

Week 2 of my sabbatical finished with a weekend in Sevilla, a city on the Portugal side of Spain. I took a train for the first time since a horrible 30 hour imprisonment in high school to the city. Sevilla is one of the most marvelous cities I've ever been. The typical tourist attractions are surprisingly astounding. A giant, Gothic cathedral full of history and possibly Christopher Columbus. An era-stretching palace, government or garden. Narrow streets full of classy boutiques and tapas bars. The best of all though was the Plaza de Espana. I've never seen a Plaza like it. It resembled more of a palace and is an incomprehensible work of art. The giant semicircle square is covered in mosaics, and has one for every city and piece of Spain. It's also part of Planet Naboo from Star Wars I and II. And then of course, Roman ruins with immaculate mosaics and passageways exist on the outskirts, because this is Europe and everything is like that. Pretty much all of Sevilla was tapas and photography and people watching and living in awe. Plus I met two Zambians who have whatsapp'ed me everyday, shared a room with ten Mexicans, and met a guy from Boulder. Hostels are weird.

I also went to a Flamenco show in Sevilla. Thought it would be like Tango in Argentina. No. I literally almost fell out of my seat when the woman started singing. Basically the dancing is like pent up sexual tap dancing with a lot of sweating and stomping. And the singing is a lot of Tarzan calls and vibrating lips. But all of that combined into one teeny barely lit room makes for a really eventful and energetically glorious Saturday Sevilla night. If Flamenco dresses didn't cost 350 Euros I would absolutely have bought one. Still might.

The only thing I'm finding hard about traveling alone is my propensity for subconscious, audible singing when I walk. If you either know me extremely well or have traveled in depth with me, this should come as no shock. But for the rest of you, and the people in the streets of Barcelona and Sevilla, I'm sure it does. I personally would judge anyone I hear belting "sing choirs of angels, sing with exaltation." Been stuck in my head for two weeks.

So I'll leave you with that.

Plaza de Espana

Mosaics

Italica

So this is a Cathedral

Sevilla

I'm not even sure what this is but why don't building look like this more often.

I'm that small speck. Thanks for the picture.

Catalunyallie

Not sure what the blog protocol is for frequency of posts, but when it's Sunday night and your friends are all gone that's justification enough right?

Hi. I still live in Spain. I'm really enjoying my sabbatical. This week is basically vacation.

Wednesday was a wonderful day. This was the day I found out I have to get a Spanish bank account. The registration process at my university makes no sense to me. I sent them a million things and was told I still had to appear in person and then appeared in person and they had everything and I basically just had to re-fill out the same things, but in hand. I got a great university themed folder to really look like I fit in, so that was plus. But paying the university directly appears not to be an option. I somehow have to pay via bank which either means I have to open an account or make a one time payment, both of which require an NIE (foreign identification number). So this means I'll be spending all day Tuesday waiting in line at some glorious admin office reminiscent of the DMV, but in Catalan doing a bunch of admin things for only four months. It's enough to make me consider graduating in 2016 and just staying another year and a half.

But the good thing was all of the university waiting time meant I got to make friends with other lost and confused souls. They call study abroad "Erasmus" here, which I still don't really know what it means or what language it's in. But I now tell people I am that. A lot of the students in my classes are actually erasmus, since fourth grade is when you're heavily encouraged to go abroad (basically it's a requirement for a year of your studies and something the USA should force because of how many kids still live in the bubble). I met a few students from Holland, France, and Cuba. I met a really sweet French girl named Esther and think I spoke to her entirely in Spanish, but remember the conversation as if I was speaking English. So maybe that means I can think in Spanish and just translate it way later?

After that wonderful registering experience, I became a complete tourist and signed up for a Paella Cooking Class. GUYS. Best thing I've ever done. I'm selling all my possessions immediately and buying paella dishes. The only things I will ever cook with again are paella pans, my wok, and my raclette. Heaven is here. The class was with a small angel named Marta who has lived in Barcelona for her forever. She was the sassiest teaspoon of a woman but captivated my everything when she made me paella with extra seafood. And it was SO EASY. Paella is a Sunday dish, so everyone is welcome to my house on January 11 for Sunday Paella.

Thursday was WOW so interesting. La Diada, or National Catalunya Day. I attended my third international protest. In contrast with a rather exciting experience in Santiago, Chile, this manifestation of regional pride was the most well-organized, peaceful, and colorful group of 600,000 (give or take, depending on which government you quote) individuals. La Diada commemorates the fall of Barcelona in 1714. Catalunya holds extreme regionalistic pride, and especially in light of the economy, is currently pushing for independence from Spain. Last year, they made a 400 km long human chain from France to Valencia. This year, two converging streets filled with people in alternating lines of yellow and red formed a giant V, signifying "via" or "way"-- their desire for autonomy, and "voto" or "vote"--their right to hold a referendum in November (WHILE I'M HERE). Guess where the point of the V was? My house. The night before was also filled with free music concerts, street theater, and roaming millions. I went to a Catalan choir concert, and happened by a street play with my roommates about the "machista" culture in Spain. I feel like a sponge.

Friday was Park Day. That meant I marched for at least 2 million miles all over Barcelona exploring their parks. This is another thing America could sorely use. The people here just relax in parks and play classical guitar and accordion and bless your ears just because. One park had a section with a sign that said "Zoo." So I got excited and was going to send Grace a picture of a Spanish Gorilla, but all I could find of the "zoo" was a few metal lizards and a large, concrete elephant. So that was weird. But then this old man came up to me with his cat on a leash and proceeded to bless me in Spanish as if he was from the Old Testament. Like actually. To make the day even better, another stranger ran up to me and profusely begged to take pictures of my feet. If you know me well, you know my feet rank in the top two of Allie's Favorite Body Parts, so FINALLY SOMEONE ELSE RECOGNIZED IT TOO. I expected to see them feetured in the Louvre.

I took a bus on Saturday to a baby beach village an hour north called Tossa Del Mar. It's basically a village of castle slash Roman ruins that plop you into the ocean and I found the secret beach cove without the 48000 tourists.

Today, I went to a Spanish church held in some random warehouse basement. But I think all but four of the attendees kissed my cheeks and introduced themselves. I've never been to a more welcoming and friendly church. The worship band was everything you would picture of Spanish Pop Stars and the pastor was a complete squirrel, but I understood everything. And, I learned, pronouncing Spanish words, and particularly "r" is 11 times easier while singing. My only fear is my dreams for travel may mean I don't get to go to this church regularly, regularly, but Jesus is real and brought me joy there at least once!

So that was long. But PSA: This is for my Grandma and for sixty five year old me if the internet still exists. But if anyone else made it to the end, bless you, you're probably someone I miss a lot, and email me and tell me about you!

LOVE.

Here are some pictures:

Hi I Made Paella

This Is Artsy Paella

This Is Just Paella

I Hated Eating This

La Diada. We Couln't Get Home

My House.

Voto Voto Voto

My Japanese Roommate Mariko

My Gallegan Roommate Rocio

Not All Pictures of Me Will Be Self Takes.

PS Title credit goes to Jessie Rose. Copying her whole life, just in Catalunya. To read the real deal, visit: mylifeasalatinapopstar.blogspot.com

Benvinguts a Barcelonallie?

Under the usual amount of distress, I've made a blog. Mostly for my grandma and anyone else who wants to think they're similarly loyal or might want to stay friends with me instead of whatever complete stranger I am when January arrives. It'll be a gr8 adventure and this blog is the way I'll look back and laugh at what a blind bat I was for doing this. Which also might mean that the blog will probably sound like I'm talking to myself, because, what else do you do when you move to a city completely by yourself without thinking about anything. At least when I do that on the street, it's mostly in Spanish.

For those who've found this exciting cite via google, hello, hola, great, welcome. I'm Allie. Often referred to as Al, AlDav, or Alan, depending on what part of the world you know me from. I'm in my twenties, but mostly looking forward to the day I can use the phrase "thirty, flirty, and thriving" whether or not any of that ever holds true. I'm obsessively addicted to travel, beaches, Colorado, people, thrifting, and seafood. This can be verified by me spending my entire sophomore year of high school in only clothes from Salvation Army and living by Five Dollar Lobster Tail Fridays. I adore Jesus, my famil, and my dear friends who've allowed me to abandon them (s/o coming l8r). That's all I want to say about myself. Because the rest of this entire blog for forever will be about myself.

I spontaneously moved to Spain a few days ago. Spontaneously might not be the right word since I technically knew about this for a few months, but the amount of time I spent planning and the lack of a study abroad pack of built in friends sure makes this feel spontaneous. I just spent a weird summer in Sacramento loving an internship and hating the heat only to find out that normal people enslave themselves to internships without liking them. Apparently this is a widespread occurrence. Maybe more on that experience later.

Anyways, I now live in a small village called Barcelona. It's this great place where living on the third floor actually means your apartment is on the sixth, you can rent a 24 square foot matchbox for $215 dollars, and people put sunscreen on places you've never thought (ie, bald spots on the top of your head or an entire female chest).

I have three roommates in my "piso." One is Japanese and between the ages of 34 and 38. I'm still trying to figure out how to communicate with her because it seems she barely knows how to speak any language, and definitely almost no Spanish. But she is a complete gem. She brought my "drying" laundry inside today when it started pouring rain and I marched out of the house without even thinking. Another is taking a class to make her own jewelry and completely panicked to get to speak English with me. The other I actually have yet to meet. But the good news is, there's not pit bull this time!

I had my first day of class this morning. Basically, I'm taking the bare minimum to qualify me as a complete slacker in the eyes of my Catalunian classmates but still justify me being here to my parents and Cal Poly (except Cal Poly still doesn't know...). That means two classes for a grand total of 7 hours a week, spread across two days. Both are water engineering classes with fourth year students who refer to themselves as being in "fourth grade." I'm also the only blond bombshell female in my first class which was a great highlight for sticking out on the first day.

Before committing my life here, I was told that one class was definitely in English (it is), and one was "most likely" in English (LOL). "Most likely" in English meant most certainly in THREE languages. That was a positive experience. English, Spanish, and Catalan. Teaching moment here: Catalan is not Spanish and is extremely different and impossible to understand. So I kind of just spent two hours in slight shock and probably understood like less than 73% of what he said. In other news, that class also has five professors. Not really sure why that's a thing. Today also made it very apparent why people do the foreign studying thing with a pack of 30 people who look exactly like them and have a admin mother to take care of everything. It's fun having literally no clue in the world what or who or when or where you're supposed to attend anything and finding out that although you sent them all the correct documents twice, registering for class and all necessary life items can only happen in person between on Wednesdays between the hours of 10 and 2.

This isn't to complain. The university is extremely wonderful in possibly every other way. Cal Poly has an idiotic layout that confuses the entire world. UPC has a beautiful matrix of numbered rows and lettered columns that means finding my classroom the first day took approximately 11 seconds once I got to campus. I got a great tour from a classmate who took pity on me and then promptly walked around the same block three times until I realized that I can't exactly subtly do things like that.

But I came here to explore, and to challenge myself, and to learn about a people, culture, and place that is entirely different from my own. So if I never blog again, sry, but I'm busy doing that.This is the beginning of a growing experience that I will deeply often refer to as my ~*sabbatical*~

You can contact me at the Mediterranean Sea for the next four months if you need anything.

Love,

Allie

P.S. Enjoy the phots:

The Med.

La Sagrada Familia.

My university.

Sangria. Consolation for having a class in three languages.

Paella. Something I've been dreaming about for years.

La ciudad de Barcelona.

This is my pillbox.