Sabbatical in Spain.: 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: