And Boy Are My Arms Tired

Barcelona to Madrid to NYC to DC: Single handedly supporting the Spanish economy with excess baggage fees and unredeemed flights. Not predicting a collapse of the Spanish airine industry with my departure but, this just in, Air Madrid has folded....

DC to Vegas to San Diego (and back again): While waiting for my lost luggage to arrive on the next flight, my mom said "Oh, I thought you gained weight in Spain because you looked fat in the picture with the camel." There's no place like home?

Next: San Francisco to NYC and finally back in DC: My New Year's Resolution will be to not travel so much (until March that is).

Hasta Lavista Barca

Echaré de menos mas

1. Coffee. Con leche before Spanish and a cortado during the class break.

2. The humorous way men say "Si" when you ask a rhetorical question.

3. The lifestyle. The city practically shuts down on Sundays, giving you at least one day of true rest. And, time for the gym and reading for pleasure, qu'est-ce que c'est?

4. The energy. Young people, old people, everyone is out and about and it is never boring to walk, which is more than I can say for DC.

5. Traveling.

6. The anonymity of obviously being foreign/not having to deal with annoying Americans.

7. Seeing the flock of preschoolers in their blue and white striped uniforms that resemble a painter’s smock. Que mono.

8. Doing intercambios even though my Spanish is not so good.

9. The wine, the cava. So cheap, so plentiful.

10. Mullet sightings.

Smattering of photos finally posted. However, I had to shrink them so some are strangely cut off. http://www.flickr.com/photos/chrystina/

6° of Southern Spain

Baby It's COLD Outside

I Almost Sharted Myself

Okay, so I know that this has nothing at all to do with Barcelona, Spain, etc. but...

Lindsay Lohan has been attending Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, her publicist said Friday...."And, by the way, she's not saying ... she'll stop drinking tomorrow....But, to me, the fact that she's seeing that there's something not right makes her smarter than the next person."

There are so many things I could say but if/when Lindsay sobers up, will she fire her dumb-ass publicist?

Full story without my misleading ellipses.

All I Want for Christmas Is You

This was a week of great visits: BB and NYHH and Neighborsman. I just got back from a weekend in London and, while I've acclimated to life without him, I miss not having him at the odd hours of the day. For example, when I got back from the airport, I wished I could have had him with me. There's a certain comfort in knowing that someone will either be waiting for you when you get home or will be home soon and be glad to see you. I miss the promise of seeing him the most and one of my favorite parts of the weekend was walking through Borough Market with him as if it were any normal weekend.

To recap, NYHH and BB visited Barcelona Tuesday to Friday and we had a grand ole time. They were supposed to arrive Monday night but missed their flight. Tuesday morning, BB was so tired from spending the night in the airport that she walked into the front doors of my building that are unfortunately entirely made of glass. We thought it was so hilarious we couldn't stop laughing or help ourselves from taking a picture of where her forehead left an impression on the glass. We then had lunch at Cheese Me and it was warm enough to eat on the terrace. In Spain, terrace doesn't mean balcony or anything, it usually just means you can eat outside for an extra 10 euros. Then I went to school for a group meeting.

I know there has been much speculation about how little work I've been doing whilst in Spain but this last week (and next week too, unfortunately), I've done more work than the entire first 2 months combined. I had a paper due Monday, a Powerpoint and paper due Friday, and two Powerpoints and a case due tomorrow. Then I have to write 3 papers and a case plus give a presentation in Spanish in the next 3 weeks. But I only have a Spanish final and I took two days off to cavort with BB and NYHH so I guess it all balances out.

So Tuesday night we went to Inopia, a tapas bar owned by Ferran Adria's brother. It was really good and not expensive. BB hearted our waiter, who was cute, and thus started the beginning of my lying streak. Whatever I told them about Barcelona was immediately contradicted. For example, no one speaks English in Barcelona, the men aren't attractive, and I don't really care for the food. Apparently, all the English-speaking, good-looking Spanish men came out of the woodwork because they heard that BB and NYHH were in town. It was ridiculous how big of a liar I looked like. I might as well have said there are WMD in Iraq. But, in my defense, I still think the hot guys were probably foreign, people indulged me and spoke Spanish, and wouldn't you get tired of patatas bravas and croquettas every day? Afterwards, we went to L'Ovella Negra and girl talked over a pitcher of sangria.

Wednesday was wonderful. We did a wine tour at Felix, complete with a scrumptious, artisanal, locally-grown, lunch with wine in the hand carved cellar with one of the owners. It was slow food at its best. We weren't crazy about a couple on the tour but ended up being BFF with them by the end of the night. After lunch we desgorged, bottled, and labeled our own bottle of cava. 95% of the cava market in Spain is owned by Freixenet and second is Cordoniu, owned by LVMH, and there is no way we could have had this experience in such a commercialized vineyard. If you ever go to Barcelona, you must do this tour. Then after the tour and a small siesta, we met up with the aforementioned couple and our tour guide for drinks. Or rather, endless bottles of wines. The couple from Atlanta was making a documentary about AIDS, sex trafficking, and something in Mali, Vietnam, and Eastern Europe and the tour guide hit on BB the entire night. Then some crazy obnoxious girl from the Bronx talked to us and took pictures. The evening culminated in drunkenly singing Come on Eileen in a bar and Ordinary World on the cab ride home. The cab driver raced to get us home we were that good.

Thursday I somehow made it to classes and meetings. Then I made my first from scratch Thanksgiving dinner courtesy of BB and NYHH who made her first batch of mashed potatoes. I also almost gave everyone salmonella because I undercooked the chicken but we put that back in the oven and started on the sides. We had cheese and bread, green beans with toasted cashews, corn, mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, and cranberry sauce. Also after swearing to never drink again, we had wine with dinner. It was the first Thanksgiving dinner for two of them and it was certainly my first Thanksgiving dinner set to techno music. Seriously people, I'm not joking. It was my first Thanksgiving abroad and it was great to spend it with new and old friends, to laugh so much, and to not stuff ourselves completely.

We didn't stuff ourselves because we would have exploded with all the food we ate in London. I kept messing up my rhyming Cockney slang and called an Eartha a Murtha. Neighborsman took us out for Indian and dancing at Fabric Friday night and NYHH entertained us after hours. We found a hip hop room thank god because I would not have paid 13 quid to listen to horrible techno and drum and bass. Saturday afternoon was spent at Borough Market shopping for food where Bridget Jones is supposed to live near. We went to Neal's Yard where NYHH fell in love with our cheese man with whom she planned to have cheese babies. I only plan to make mac and cheese with the stinky cheeses I bought from him. He was supernice and spent a lot of time talking to us about and letting us sample cheese. Being English, he was superhonored and supermodest when BB asked to take his picture. We also queued for yummy coffee with cinnamony brown sugar and the guy chastised me for asking about the possibility of skim milk. They only have whole milk and one size of coffee. We sat in a pub and talked for a bit and then I got my eyebrows threaded while they did cultural things. We went out for Indian again at Brick Lane at restaurant where Neighborsman is a regular and walked home because we ate so much it felt like we had bricks in our stomach.

This morning we had a proper English breakfast at Joe's Kitchen, which was cute and very good. I rather reluctantly and sadly left for Barcelona and was so exhausted that I slept on both the bus and plane. I miss them and you (you anonymous blog readers) and can't wait until we all welcome the new year together in New York with our homemade bottles of cava. And that, Santa, is what I want for Christmas this year.

Turning Japanese

The first night we went to the the medina, Djemaa el Fna, and had the best buffet dinner at Hotel Foucauld. But when we went back after the camping trip, I think it was a little too overwhelming. Tourism is basically the livelihood for so many people that merchants are very aggressive trying to get you to visit their stall. For example, my girlfriend and I were standing in front of the row of orange juice stands (a pint of wonderful fresh squeezed juice for 30 cents) and couldn't talk because the merchants kept yelling and making noises to get us to look their way. I told Neighborsman that it was 10 times worse than Beijing--as if you were only surrounded by the DVD hawkers there. We didn't have time to visit the nicer parts of Marrakech like Gueliz, which I think would have made a difference. Overall, I really liked Morocco and wished I would have more time to visit other cities like Essouira, a beach time, or more historical cities like Rabat or Fez.

The first night in Casablanca, we went to a bar that ended up being a meeting place for hookers and French businessmen. We weren't sure at first since it was a Best Western bar and there was a "show" that seemed like the talent portion of a pageant, but I guess that's as risque as you get in a Muslim country. Then we realized that some of the women were actually dressed like prostitutes and we were the only ones not there to do business. However, the best part of the evening was watching a older gentleman, who was in all likelihood on Ecstasy, dancing like a mofo without any care in the world. It was hilarious and was worth the $16 I spent for two beers. Casablanca is smelly and gross but we did go to a beautiful mosque before heading to Marrakech. The movie Casablanca was actually filmed in Florida.

Holy shit I would have gone crazy if I heard one more person say "Konnichiwa" while I was in Marrakech. I think it would have been okay if I didn't spend an hour looking for tampons because I got my period. There are basically no women in the public sphere in Marrakech and those on the street are covered up. So, I was basically the only woman walking on the street and heard Konnichiwa every two seconds when I passed a man. I think I was the only Asian person in all of Morocco that weekend because when we were leaving, the visa guy asked "Japonaise?" and then two seconds later the guy at the next desk asked the same thing. Then the male flight attendent who checked my ticket on the way in said my last name like it was the first time he met an Asian person. But the best part was when we deplaned. He said either "Au revoir" or "Goodbye" to everyone but when he got to me, he said "Chong! Chau!"

Morocco was great and it was lovely to practice my failing French but I have never been so happy to be back in Barcelona. I vowed never to complain about it ever again. The men are respectful, I know where to buy tampons, and I don't get diarrhea from eating the food. Sunday morning we went to the Marjorelle/Yves St. Laurent Garden. It was a nice quiet contrast to the rest of Marrakech and surprisingly had a large bamboo forest along with an arts and craft museum and great gift shop. The girls and I were, however, most enamored by this little kitten we saw in the garden. We didn't know why there were so many cats everywhere in Morocco until one of my roommates told me that Muslims don't keep dogs as pets since they consider them a dirty animal. I am pug person myself but couldn't help taking a picture of this pussy.cat

Christina of Chongrabia

So whilst in Morocco, we did a camping excursion out in the Sahara. We drove about 7 hours outside of Marrakech, through the mid-Atlas mountains. We stopped to visit a kasbah at Ait Ben Haddou, the oldest and best preserved one in Morocco where they filmed parts of Lawrence of Arabia and Jesus of Nazareth, and rode a donkey across a river to get there. Then, we lunched on chicken tajine and Moroccan salad in Ourazazate. Each region in Morocco has its own speciality and that is basically what we ate the whole time near Marrakech. Breakfast everywhere consisted of croissant and baguette with butter and marmalade and sweeetened mint tea and coffee. Great the first day, a little repetitive by the fifth.

The scenery is absolutely beautiful. You'd think you'd get bored of 7 hours of the mountains and desert but no. The driver played French, Arabaic, and Berber folk music and we listened to radio too (JT, Kelly Clarkson). The drive through the desert was lined with date and fig trees, little roadside stands, and small villages. We actually thought that the date trees were palm trees and couldn't figure out what the women did with the leaves. They carried bundles of them on a sack or on a cart so we knew they used it for something but we just couldn't imagine what. I felt like such a cityslicker. They obviously used them to make fences but the only other thing I could think of was using it for fires. We asked our driver, who spoke French and a little English, and it turns out that they use it for hay for the donkeys. Duh. But in my defense, they do also use it for fuel.

Once in Zagora, we rode camels, which are surprisingly not stinky, into the desert to the campsite. However, we did not go camping in the "good" desert as the guy at the tour office told us. By this he meant the part of the Sahara with the big-ass sand dunes but we didn't care. We got to Zagora after sunset, which we weren't supposed to do, but the upside was that we trekked under the moon and star light. It was amazing to ride in the dark and to see the moon and stars so clearly because there was such little light pollution. The only other time that happened was when I drove through Mexico and you really do want lights when you're driving. Since we couldn't play "I Spy", we made up games to occupy ourselves during the 2 hour ride while two Berber nomads guided us and the camels into the desert.

Once at the campsite, we were surprised and relieved to discover how comfortable it was. They had set up sleeping tents and a lounge for us and there were also toilets. We had dinner and hung out with the Berber nomads, who have a good sense of humor. When we asked what was for dinner since not everyone likes to eat lamb, they replied "Camel" and we were all a little uneasy. When we asked, "Are we eating one of the camels we rode?" they laughed and said we're eating chicken tajine. Ha ha ha. Also, one of the guys tried to sell us girls for camels. That's when we found out that 1 camel=10,000 dirham=1,000 Euro. According to one of the merchants in a souvenir shop, I am worth 10,000 camels so you better start saving up Mark. After dinner, we listened to music since someone had the foresight to bring their Ipod speakers and played Uno for hours with the Berber nomads. We felt very ignorant. We were all prepared to teach them how to play Uno but they already knew how to play. Not only that, they also spoke Arabic, Berber, French, and English. And, oh yeah, they could navigate using the stars.

We tried to take pictures of the moon because it was so exciting to see it illuminate the sky but there wasn't enough ambient light to do so. We went to bed in our comfy tents (mattresses, blankets, etc.) and woke up at 6:30 to take pictures of the sunrise. The sand in the Sahara is the softest ever but I forgot to put some in a bottle to take back with me. We rode back through the desert on the camels after breakfast. Well, the girls rode and the guys walked back. Riding a camel is not the most comfortable thing in the world and, although they don't smell, they shit a lot. Apparently, you also only ride male camels. We saw all the scenery we missed the night before (people's houses, smaller mountains) and solved riddles and consulting case questions. Sorry, we are in business school. Our favorite Berber nomad, Mohammed, asked us a couple riddles and we had particular trouble solving one (What speaks all languages and stands on its head?). He asked us if we wanted to give up but we refused to because, you know, we're MBAs and smart enough to figure it out...

The Sharif Don't Like It

Caveat: very little has happened since Wednesday. Friday I went to Andorra with some girls (and a guy) to shop but it's really only good for booze, perfume, and electronics, most of which I already have. It's essentially a resort town but we had a good Spanish lunch (2 hours) and I'm sure it'd be great to ski/snowboard if you're looking for new places to winter. Sadly, I do have to admit that we went to McDonald's there. Apparently, the international ones are far superior to the US ones. The one in Rome in the train station had West Elm-ish furniture and decorations, similar to what I would want my apartment to look like. The ones in Andorra, and hopefully all of Spain, have this delicious gelati amb cafe parfait that costs 1 Euro. It is almost as good as the heavenly caffe parfait that I had in Rome: sweetened espresso granita sandwiched between layers of whipped cream. Que rico.

I did all the work that's immediately due after spending Saturday cleaning/napping/finally getting my airline tickets. Well, before you get all impressed and shit, I cleaned my room because we have a maid to clean the apartment weekly. Saturday night, a bunch of us went to a really cheap (13 Euro) but good Japanese buffet that serves food on a conveyor belt. This concept would never work in the US due to the fact that A) all-you-can eat usually sucks because B) people in the US really eat all they can. The food was comparable to my favorite sushi place on the UES (Ichi ro) and it was the first time I was actually full/verging on stuffed after a meal in Barcelona.

Today, I spent 2 hours figuring out what classes to register for next semester since I have to take 10 classes over the 2 mods. Tomorrow, I leave for Morocco with some other exchange students! But before I can do that, I have to present in front of my design class and I hate (am scared to death of) presenting. The topic? Leveraging user design to build brand loyalty. Scintillating, I know, but we have enough You Tube clips and a "design your own Nike Shox" feature to minimize actual talking time.

Siempre Una Fiesta

Last night was Halloween and, feeling uninspired, I half-assed it and went native. Dressing up as a Barcelona girl basically means wearing 80s clothes and a mullet. And smoking and saying "Vale" a lot. I have no idea who this guy in the picture is but he's fucking hilarious. So we danced until 4am and I slept from 6am-1pm because today is another holiday! It's All Saints Day and also the Catalonian elections as well as the day I should be finishing my Zara case that's due tomorrow and reading other cases and starting my other papers. And calling Citibank to find out why my credit card doesn't work and the travel agency to find out why my tickets to Morocco for next week haven't arrived yet. I should not be blogging and contemplating a siesta. Did I mention that Spain has made me uber lazy? It's funny because, apparently, Catalans are the most industrious of all the Spaniards too. This is why my career aspirations have devolved from having a fancy job in NY to selling Estrella on the beach in Barcelona. Just kidding. Or am I?

Not much has happened since I got back except for getting a cold. I somehow managed to spend 100 Euro at H&M last Friday and have also convinced myself that a shopping daytrip to Andorra this Friday is a good idea. I found protein bars at Decathalon and they are prohibitively expensive but chocolately delicious. I have basically given up on eating Spanish food and am currently OD-ing on quesadillas and pasta. This now necessitates going to the gym regularly. If the store were open today I could buy eggs or something for protein. Friday night was a Halloween party where the host unsuccessfully tried to enact a game of human Uno. Saturday I went to my first real live soccer match. Barça is actually good and the fans are actual fans and both of these factors make it actually fun to watch soccer. They played a shitty Spanish team (Barça won 3-0) but the stadium, which I think is the largest in continental Europe, was stilled packed. I worked on my Design Management project with a friend Sunday because the professor is important enough not to have to actually teach but have the students present each week. That's the weirdest thing about b-school here: there's a guest presenter every lecture for half or most of the class. One of my classes includes 2 field trips in lieu of class. Not that I'm complaining but it's ridiculous how much time people spend on the web because of this--way worse than at MSB. There's not a lot to live vicariously through me this week but I must, I must, I must do all my work by the end of this weekend. As soon as I finish reading this week's New Yorker in bed.

When In Rome, Do the Romans OR Slutfest 2007

Now that I've got your attention, these are the two topics for today: Halloween and hot Italians. I was sitting around with my roommates talking about Halloween when one of them, who "studied" in Hawaii, reminded me that Halloween is a big fat excuse for American girls to slut it up for a night. Or rather I think it's the one night where they allow themselves to slut it up. It's such an ingrained part of American culture that it didn't even occur to me, the same way Spaniards don't think twice about not washing their hands after using the bathroom or not saying excuse me after they shove you aside in the metro. So of course right after I agreed with him, I could immediately see one of my other roommates mentally planning his first trip to the States for next Halloween. It seems that it's really only the Americans & Friends who celebrate it here but there's a big party at a club so should I dress up as a: A) sexy cat, B) sexy nurse, C) sexy nun, or D) slutty American tourist? Just kidding but any costume suggestions are much appreciated.

Speaking of nuns, did you know that they and priests no longer have to take a vow of poverty? I was shocked to see a smoking, blinged out priest in the Vatican but my Peruvian friend, who went with us and whose cousin is a priest studying at the Vatican, said that it's no longer required. They can smoke, drink, and be materialistic like the rest of us lay people but I guess all the Cristal and diamonds in the world can't make up for the still-required chastity vow, which currently seems to be more an issue of semantics than anything else. One thing they don't tell you is that you have to go through a shitload of museums to get to the Sistine Chapel. And if you've lived in New York, you've seen most of the same style of artwork except for the Michelangelo, Raphael, and map stuff. I still don't understand what Greek statues and Egyptian art have to do with the Vatican. They must have hired an operations guy to consult on how to best manage the flow of people and also to make you feel like you're getting your money's worth. We did that and St. Peter's Basilica the same day and we climbed all the way to the top of the dome, which I highly recommend.

That also brings me to the next topic: the incredibly hot guys in Rome. Sorry Mark but I think that I can confidently say that Rome (I don't know about the rest of Italy) objectively has the highest per capita population of objectively good looking people in the world. It probably has something to do with the fact that they're well dressed (either suits or uniforms) and I was most enamored by the bag check guys at St. Peter's Basilica. I guess he really does hold the keys to heaven... We discussed this in Spanish class today and the German exchange student, who is from an Italian business school, was a bit jealous and stated that we girls didn't understand that it's a part of the culture for Italian men and that they're dangerous. As if we cared. Then the Italian guy came to class and we thought it would bring an end to the debate but, instead, our professor told him that me and my girlfriend, who I went with and is in the same class, thought that the Italian men were the best part of our trip to Italy. It's a good thing we didn't tell her that we shamelessly chatted up a chef at one of the restaurants we went to for dinner and got a picture with him.

I also heard the funniest question ever. One of the guys in our group is Chinese and the others did a tour of the important churches with the Peruvian's cousin/priest. They were discussing all the important religious figures buried in Rome and the Chinese guy asked why they didn't bury Jesus there. Then he totally thought they were joking when they proceeded to explain the whole resurrection thing to him. We toured most of Rome by foot in one day, which I really enjoyed. Some parts were a bit underwhelming (Trevi Fountain remarkably like Caesar's Palace, better Italian food in NY than Rome?) but I also loved loved loved the Coliseum, the pizza, and the open air. You don't see the sky much in NY or Barcelona and the weather was perfect in Rome the whole time (75 and sunny). It's actually the same weather as in Barcelona right now but I spend most of daylight sleeping in or in class.

But you know what wasn't underwhelming? Seeing Mark in Vienna! We went to see The Magic Flute for only 4 Euro. Although it was SRO, we stayed for the whole thing because it was quite interesting. It was a modern, minimalist interpretation: contemporary costumes, practically no set, and half naked women dressed as parrots. We also saw the Hundertwasser Haus, a photo exhibit celebrating 25 years of Sante D'Orazio at the Kunst Haus, and had a great dinner at a Heuriger. Traveling with Mark=culture; traveling with girlfriends=shopping.

I bid you adieu with quiz time! Winner receives the smug satisfaction of being right. We're going to play Guess the Blind Item, Beginner's Mistakes in Spanish, and Verdadero o Falso. I don't know if anyone else is a Curb Your Enthusiasm fan but in the last season, Larry pisses off a guy in a wheelchair by using the handicap bathroom. Which exchange student made a cabron of herself and had to hide from a very irate Frenchman, who was waiting to use the handicapped bathroom, for the remainder of a 3-hour layover at the Dusseldorf airport? What is the difference between cansada and casada, chaqueta and chaquetearse, embarazada and embaraza? Verdadero o Falso: The following picture from Vatican City resembles Hef's grotto at the Playboy Mansion. And that's basically what's happened since Friday.

Nit Bus

I know that Neighborsman has been regaling you with nightbus adventures and I hate to say this but, I can top that shit. We went out Monday night for dinner and drinks to celebrate a birthday for one of the exchange students. Dinner was good but the drinks portion of the evening got off to a rocky start when one of the guys pissed off a bouncer. Unfortunately, everyone else had already gotten into the bar so we had to down as much as we could of 3 pitchers worth of sangria (no complaints from me) in 15 minutes while he waited. The mission was impossible so we made friends by giving away what we couldn't drink before going to another bar.

By the time we wanted to go home, the metro had stopped running so I took the nightbus with one of the girls who lives in my neighborhood. Now, this is what we get for being cheap since the cabs aren't really that expensive. We apparently took the nightbus in the wrong direction but unfortunately didn't figure this out until an hour later after passing through the sketchiest part of town (muy industrial) and having some creepy guy stare at us the whole time. Want to know how we figured this out? We ended up at the top of some mountain outside of Barcelona at 3:30 in the morning in a neighborhood that we didn't know even existed. MBAs is smart people.

A common misconception is that Spanish people are nice. This is true, yes, unless they are working in a service-related field and I know that I am not being unreasonable because even the French students complain about how horrible the service is here. We asked the bus driver if he could talk to a cab company for us since we didn't: A) know where we were, B) know how to pronounce where we didn't know we were, and C) want to wait the hour and half he said it would take to get home. He reluctantly agreed and, as soon as he hung up, was like "Hello, girls, are you getting on the bus or what?" before he sped away. He said the cab would take 15 minutes but when we called 20 minutes later, the woman informed us that there were no cabs available right then and that it would take 30 minutes, mas o menos.

Mas o menos (more or less) is our absolute favorite phrase in my Spanish class and basically meant that we were fucked if we thought a cab was going to show up. So we got on the next bus and, ironically, saw a gazillion cabs on the way home. But everytime we saw a cab, the bus would immediately turn in the opposite direction. There is nothing like sharing a horrendous night in a foreign country to immediately bond with another person. I went to bed by 6 and woke up at 8 since I have a 2-week retail marketing class that starts at 9. Ugh.

Tuesday night I did a language exchange with a Catalan because 8 hours of Spanish class a week is clearly not cutting it. Unfortunately, his English is way better than my Spanish so we talked in English about science, American politics (eg, why I don't think that Hilary will be our next president), and Halloween. We actually get All Saints Day off here but I had to enlighten him about American Halloween because he's going to visit his girlfriend in DC and was like "Why the hell should I give spoiled children candy for knocking on my door?" I couldn't explain it properly but managed to communicate that you can't not give out candy on Halloween and I think he was a little horrified when I told him that we used to get so much candy that it could last for months (theoretically, at least, if you didn't gorge yourself like my siblings and I used to).

I am all caught up so far on Lost, The Office, Project Runway, and Season 6 of Gilmore Girls. Suffice it to say that all those books I bought in London are gettin' a little dusty now. This girl brought up Chipotle in the retail class today and now I am dying for a steak burrito bol with rice, pico de gallo, corn, and lettuce. I went out for dinner at a Mexican place my roommate raved about and it was good, if not exactly authentically executed , but ohmygod I want Chipotle.

Is there anything I can do about looking so innocent and nice? We were talking about traveling in Spanish class today and the Italian guy told us to go to Marrakesh when we're in Morocco since he had been a few times. The teacher was shocked when I asked if you could smoke weed there since I was under the impression that Marrakesh is a weed haven. She actually said that she was shocked to hear me ask that but, to be fair, the last question I asked in class was "Where can I see modern ballet in Barcelona?" By the way, the answer is that it's technically illegal but you can find it easily and most likely won't get in trouble for smoking it.

Although I'm no longer home/Mark-sick, it'll be good to see him this weekend in Vienna (the last before December) and I can't wait to go on the Kirath diet (wine, pasta, gelato) in Rome this weekend too. Okay, enough random thoughts from me and here's a pre-nightbus picture from Monday night for making it all the way to the end.

Proxima Stacio: 90210

Thursday was a national holiday in honor of the Madonna of something so we didn't have classes. I woke up late (2-ish as I am apt to do these days) and was sure that my roommates were probably doing something productive or out. Yeah right. I walked into the living room and they were sitting in their pajamas watching Beverly Hills 90210. I think it was the episode where Brenda thinks she's pregnant but can't be sure since that station doesn't have the subtitle option. So naturally, this led to a discussion of the characters we had crushes on (Dylan fans?), how old we were when it was on air, and somehow culminated in humming the A-Team theme song. Boys.

But this brings me to Wednesday night. I went to a party thrown by some of the other exchange students and we went dancing afterwards at Sala Bikini, which actually played hip-hop (yay!). Now b-school, much like law school, is like high school in that it's very clique-y. It's no different in the exchange program where there's a cabal of LA-Canadians-Germans of varying degrees of niceness. I hang out with them sometimes but it's so...incestuous. It's the same with the Asians from Asia. I understand that groups help us order our world and blah blah blah but it's weird that you would come here and be so insular. It also kinda sucks that I'm the only person from my school and the other schools send at least 2 people.

Needless to say, I miss MN. I miss the physical intimacy and contact (hugging and cuddling, you perverts) and much prefer a genuine hug over a superficial double cheek kiss any day. Perhaps I should start a Barcelona cuddling party? But most of all, I miss the idea, more than the nearness, of him. In a way, two of my roommates, let's call them Pepe Le Peu and the Croc Hunter, are my...companions? I think they're in a similar situation since they're both married. I often commute with Pepe since we have some of the same classes. Thursday, the three of us went out to do something cultural and grabbed some tapas and beer afterwards. Friday, the Croc Hunter and I tried to go to the Picasso Museum but were deterred by the long-ass line.

I am officially cultured out. Saturday, I went inside Sagrada Familia, which really is quite unfinished, and waited 45 minutes to take the lift to the top (an extra 2 euros). Unfortunately, I had to wait in line behind a couple that was making out (ass grabbing and face sucking) before they decided to get a room somewhere else. But then, I ended up behind these two French guys who whistled in harmony the entire time. To the Wedding March. I know I'm a tourist too but I am not annoying most of the time. I then went to the contemporary art museum MACBA, which, although it is a great Richard Meier building, I don't actually recommend going inside or paying to see more than the first floor. It's a strange juxtaposition because the building is very modern, white, and sterile but is in the middle of Barri Gotic, which is lively, old, and filled with skateboarders. I don't want to see any more churches, most likely ever, so I don't know what I'm going to do in Rome next weekend. Suggestions?

Last night I went out with a couple in the exchange program and the Croc Hunter, who goes to b-school with them, and then to a bar night for the school. It was mostly people I didn't know so I left with the other exchange students after awhile. Today I mostly pissed the day away and caved in and got a bagel with lox and cream cheese. It's already 6pm so I should do homework (my first real assignment) and go for a run. Tomorrow, hallelujah, we interview maids!

I Heart Opencor

I was originally going to title this post "Best Weekend Ever" because I went to London to see mi novio (MN) but that was quickly vetoed when I discovered that there's an Opencor convenience store in my neighborhood on the way home from the gym. You will recall that: A) Spain is not a country that can be labeled convenient in any fashion except maybe geographically and B) shit closes at 8-9 and always on Sunday. Well, Opencor is a subsidiary of the horrendously overpriced but convenient Western department/grocery store, El Corte Ingles, and is the most triumphant of stores. It's open almost 24-7, which in Spain is like asking God to work through a 2-hour lunch and siesta. It resembles CVS only without the pharmacy and with the odd addition of underwear, alcohol, and a bakery. Best of all, it carries exotic food items like beef and chicken (packaged in plastic, too!). I will shamefully admit that I bought the super-trashy and low rent Life & Style under the guise of practicing my Spanish but, really, I want to know why Vaughniston is over and why she has her eyes on the shirt-phobic Matthew McConaughey. See, my espanol is improving already.

To add to my excitement, I just discovered that there's also a real supermarket, not a Spanish supermercat, called Mercadona, that has the capability to let you shop online and will deliver groceries. Don't worry, I'm not actually going to order/have groceries delivered. Now I am going to sound like the worst of ugly Americans but there is nothing like moving to a foreign country, except maybe Canada, to make you love love love America. I am not going to be an imperialist pig and say things like "Spain should be efficient" because, well, c'mon this is Spain. But even though America can be horribly wasteful and spoiled, I miss the variety and convenience and the postal system. My sister express mailed me something like 2-3 weeks ago that hasn't arrived and my Amazon order will take one whole month to get here by DHL. How can I learn vocabulario if it I can't watch Gilmore Girls and The Office in Spanish subtitles until November?Also, I dropped my underwear on the ground when I was taking it off the line the other day. My granny undies are in plain view of anyone who's doing their laundry and I have no idea how to/if I can retrieve them. However, it's a common occurrence as I can see that the person across the way dropped his/her underwear too. Speaking of laundry, I think a pair of my jeans are starting to mold...it was inevitable.

So I saw MN this weekend and it was wonderful and exactly what we needed and felt like nothing had changed except for the fact that we live in different countries and on a different continent now. My mobile doesn't work in London (surprise!) so I spent an hour waiting in Citibank while he waited by the tube stop. Clearly we are geniuses and will obviously be shortlisted for the MacArthur grant. Friday night we went out for Indian (30% off plus free beer) in Brick Lane, which is almost exactly like 6th Street, and met up with his suitemates for drinks. This one place that we did not go to was basically a gated outdoor park with picnic tables and a bar (read, card table with beer) that had the cojones to charge 3.50 pounds entrance fee. Then we walked home 3 miles because no one could figure out where the right nightbus was. The next day, he took me to the Giggling Sausage for a proper English breakfast. Not only does this fine dining establishment (a cafe and a restaurant) feature a picture of the aforementioned namesake but also has a little "Ha ha" caption in case you didn't understand that the sausage is, in fact, giggling. But it was yummy and cheap and had entertaining customers and employees.

What really made me homesick earlier was not having someone, not just Mark, to do things with and I knew that Mark missed me when he actually agreed to go shopping with me on Oxford Street on a Saturday afternoon. It was like the worst of Soho-Times Square-Union Square combined and he didn't protest when I spent too much time looking for books, belts, and school supplies--all things I can't seem to find in Barcelona. I don't need a belt because I'm losing so much weight but because my jeans sag since they don't shrink since I can't put them in a dryer. Then I knew that Mark really really missed me when we went to Selfridges and he waited with me for an hour at the Starbucks instead of going home like I offered so I could get my eyebrows threaded. We met his friends for gourmet burgers that night and saw The Departed. I have never seen so many people shot in the head but everyone, especially Leo, was so good that I felt bad about judging him by who he sleeps with.

We had really good Chinese food Sunday and MN accompanied me to the EasyBus stop. We said our goodbyes prematurely since I tried to get on the wrong bus and then I ran after him so we could spend 10 more minutes together. I got to the airport super early so I shopped at one of my favorite stores: Boots. Today I started my second full week of classes and (knock on wood) they are so easy that I have enough time to go to the gym every night and read books and cook dinner even if it is only eggs. Most days I start classes at 12:30 so I can stay up until 3am planning trips and not writing cover letters like I should be doing. MN and I are meeting in Vienna next weekend and, since it's yet another school holiday, I'm going to meet up with some classmates in Rome. I am also going to Morocco in November and when he visits in December, we're thinking of going to maybe Sevilla or Cordoba. This weekend is another long holiday but I have a Friday class and rapidly dwindling funds so I'm going to stay in Barcelona and do all the touristy stuff I haven't yet done, which is a lot.

Gaudí Afternoon

Thursday morning was a bus tour of Barcelona arranged by the school. It was interesting and informative since the guide was the same guy who gave the lecture on the sociopolitical history of modern Spain and who was also a cultural volunteer during the 1992 Olympics. We toured through Gaudi's Parc Güell and around Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Familia. Things I learned: 1) Gaudi was one of the first artists to use mosaics because it was easier to use broken tile to conform to his extensive use of undulating shapes; 2) It is expiatory, or atonement, because Sagrada Familia is financed largely through public funds with the idea that visitors atone for their sins with the admission. This also explains why it will probably never be completed.

Then we drove to San Sebastián (Donostia), a beach town in northern Spain near the Pyrénées, and Pamplona (Iruña), home of the bull run (San Fermin). Getting there was quite an adventure. There were about 12 of us that went and we thought that we could get an automatic but that turned out not to be the case. Only one girl in my car drove since the 2 Chinese exchange students didn't bring their licenses and I can't drive manual. So the Chinese girl offers to drive later in the trip but reveals, once we're on the road, that she's "slightly" near sighted and didn't bring her glasses. She continues to reassure us that, however, she can see large objects like cars. She illustrates this by weaving in and out of lanes after the other American girl suggests that she stick to driving in one lane. So we ask the Chinese guy to drive and he alternates between 80 and 140 km/hr. When we suggest that he try to maintain a constant speed, he shares that this is his first time driving on the highway. We actually spent the night in Pamplona because it took so long to get there but it took us forever to find the hotel because the street it's on was closed for renovations and we kept passing it. We walked the route of the bull run the next morning before leaving for San Sebastián.

The drive there is absolutely beautiful but I won't bore you with those pictures or the ones of San Sebastián, which is also gorgeous and very French, architecture-wise. We ate tapas and drank, climbed a small mountain, danced, walked on the beach, and saw Lonely Hearts at the San Sebastián Film Festival. It stars James Gandolifini, John Travolta, Salma Hayek, and Jared Leto and is based on a true story about a couple who defraud and murder rich, lonely women through the personals. I couldn't make up my mind if I hated it or liked it but it will also show at the Tribeca Film Festival if you're interested in seeing it. The last night, we lined up on the red carpet to possibly see celebs. We only saw Spanish films stars who we didn't recognize (does Juan Diego ring a bell for anyone?) and not Clive Owen, who was there earlier in the week. The saving grace was that we had a full-on view of the hottest cop we had ever seen (dimples and cleft chin).

Spending so much time with 12 strangers was enlightening. The group of 8, who's already very exclusive and hooking up and partying. The couple consisting of a Australian guy who I wasn't sure was listening to parts of the conversation that he wasn't actively engaged in and his Asian girlfriend who deferred everything to him (eg, he has a cellphone so she doesn't need one). The Chinese exchange students who took pictures of everything and went to bed early. The guy from Hong Kong who's very nice but warned us that he talks a lot (about himself, his MBA program, and Outward Bound). I got along best with the other American girl, who unfortunately doesn't drink. Period. However, she did agree that the other girls in this MBA program are not the friendliest.

I highly recommend San Sebastián as it is close to Pamplona, Bilbao, and also Biarritz. The holiday was great but horrible since I think I gained back the weight I lost. In addition to tapas, the Spainards are crazy for pastries and ice cream. You can't go anywhere without seeing a dozen pastry shops and ice cream machines/stores. I also did a lot of shopping for gifts and was proud to be able to get by on what little Spanish I know and to navigate through Spain. Luckily, the people in Basque, Aragon, and Navarra speak more Spanish than the people in Catalunya. Following are pictures, with a little something for everyone: first for Mark, second for the manongs, and third for the ladies (sorry, Mark).











Last night when we got back, we celebrated the Chinese girl's birthday with some other exchange students and today I had a full day of classes (9-6). 3 hours each of China/India and Capturing Customer Preferences. The professor for China/India is supersmart and really young. He's an economist who taught at Cambridge, worked at the UN and World Bank, and spent some time at Stanford. He uses words like hegemonic and I feel a little smart because I know what that means. The school is much easier academically (knock on wood) and the format seems to be in-class lecture/reading, small groups to discuss, coffee break, class discussion. Much less in terms of deliverables and only 2 exams and 2 projects for the 8 classes I'm taking. I also took a Spanish test (written and oral) for which I was not at all qualified (such hubris after a 2-month class of which I skipped a quarter of the classes). But it was still better than having to actually attend a 2-hour Spanish class like I'll have to do from now on. Then, I went to a presentation where I realized that I really don't want to work for that company and freaked out about (not) finding a job. But I felt better after having dinner with my roommates and tomorrow I only have Spanish, which leaves the rest of the day to join a gym and do some actual work.

Anem a la platja

Monday I finally made it to the beach! It was perfect: sunny, breezy, not too hot and I was relieved that the last two weeks of rain didn't portend the end of summer. I read, listened to music, and took a little siesta (ha, ha, Christina likes to sleep. a lot. in the afternoon). I went to a catalonian wine expo afterwards that was fantastic. It was held outside by the port and I had dinner for only 11 Euro: four glasses of cava and rosé and enough sausage, cheese, and pastries to be both drunk and stuffed. Sex-y. I really do like Barcelona and, lack of dryers notwithstanding, think it is an ideal place to live. It combines the best of California (beaches, warm weather, easy going) with everything I love about New York (culture, walkable, nightlife, architecture).

This week is orientation for exchange students. Yesterday was the kickoff and I met most of the other students I hadn't already been in class with. It was a looong day filled with presentations that mercifully ended with free drinks. This morning we had a class on the modern sociopolitical history of Spain. It started with a quiz on which I scored 0/15. Could you correctly identify Spain's political system? Luckily, it evolved into a really interesting discussion on language and how a country's attitude towards it affects its political/economic landscape. More importantly, today, I found an English-speaking place that does mani/pedi and eyebrows. Tomorrow is a bus tour of the less accessible tourist spots and then it's off to San Sebastian for a long weekend with some of the other exchange students. But I'm also keeping it real. I had to clean the disgusting kitchen today (worse than Plimpton senior year) since we haven't found a maid and spent an hour with my roommate taking apart and putting together the bathroom sink pipes because I dropped my contact case in there and the water wouldn't drain.

In honor of today's semi-intellectual post, here are some random facts about Barcelona that's not included in the guidebooks.

• It is seriously polluted. How can I notice it here and not in California or New York? The floor hasn't been swept in months and my bare feet were black the first night from all the dust/exhaust on the floor.
• The mullet is de rigeur among Spanish youth and the combination mullet/dreads look is particularly favored by guys.
• You have to hail buses.
• The water, while potable, is not palatable. Brita doesn't exist here but bottled water in thankfully very cheap.
• Very few people speak English. When I bought pork chops for dinner tonight, the butcher pointed to a picture of a pig so I wouldn't misunderstand him.
• Nearly every single consonant is pronounced with a lisp and I am torn between pronouncing things correctly or not having to supress the urge to snicker.
• For some reason, there are only crosswalks on one, and not both, side of the street.

Mercè Mercè Me

Yay, I'm done with my first class! It was a management simulation that required me to work 6 hours a day for the week with a group of 5 others. It was fun but, more importantly, is over. Because it was a general management class, I learned that I need to be more assertive in group settings. Next week is a few days of orientation activities for exchange students and classes start the week after next.

This weekend is La Mercè, a festival celebrating the patron saint of Barcelona. Essentially, it's 4 days of all of Barcelona gathering to go to concerts, parades, and party. Friday night, I went out with my group and others. One of the girls looks so much like SJP (but with a better nose) that everytime I talked to her, I kept thinking "You look like Carrie Bradshaw." I'm sure she thought I was retarded. I took a siesta after class and didn't wake up until 10:30 and wasn't going to go but Mark convinced me that I had to stop being standoffish, suck up my pride, and make peace with tagging along. We met for drinks, went to a concert, got beer from McDonald's, and went dancing at La Paloma. It's a 100-year old dance hall that also serves as a nightclub. The architecture inside is amazing but the music less so. Spain being Spain, we arrived around 2 and the place was deserted. It wasn't until we left at 5 that it was actually full.

Saturday, I went shopping and got "exotic" goodies such as peanut butter from the Asian superstore. Can anyone recommend a good book that might be available in Spain? I went to FNAC, a cross between B&N and Best Buy, and it only had airport lit and classics available in English. It's great to have all this time to read but my New Yorker subscription will probably arrive when I leave Spain and all I have right now is a Paul Auster book that I bought yesterday.

Saturday night, we went to see the Correfoc, fire run, that has the following disclaimer: "Warning!The FIRE RUN can be dangerous and you are responsible for your own safety. If you want to run and dance among the devils you are advised to wear clothes which cover your arms and legs to avoid burns. Wearing a hat or headscarf and even special glasses is also recommended. Children watching the spectacle for the first time may be frightened. Please ensure that they are not in the front lines."

It is the craziest thing I have ever seen. The stateside equivalent might be a Halloween parade on New Year's Eve combined with fireworks from the 4th of July. The first picture is before it starts and the second is after. Notice how the people in the latter are running away in fear? That's because it's fucking scary as shit to have fireworks-spewing dragons and people aiming big-ass sparklers directly at you. It is both terrifying and exhilarating and makes you shriek like a child. I was on the front lines and at one point I was crouched as far down as possible on the street, back to the parade, arms covering my head, watching spark fall all around me. And you know what? I still got fucking burned. My camera died so I'll post my roommate's pictures later.

Afterwards, we went for tapas with his classmates and, contrary to Neighborsman's complaint, the portion were huge. For 20 Euro, I had two entrees (tortilla and sausage with beans), pa amb tomàquet, water, half bottle of rose, and shared a caramel-filled crepe. Yum. I also tried some rabbit, which tasted exactly like chicken. Apparently, you can get it here at the butcher's preskinned but with the head attached. Yuck. I always knew that, as an American, I'm removed from my food source but when I went to the fresh market that morning looking to make steak, I realized that I had absolutely no idea what part of the cow was what. I felt so ignorant and lost without a label identifying my shrink wrapped meat. Having said that, however, I miss the capitalist excess (ie, variety) of American sometimes.

I wanted to go to the Castellers, human castle, event today but slept instead. I went to the street parade and saw a photo exhibit on La Mercè 2005. I also saw a multimedia project on postcapitalism that was ambitious (ie, I didn't like it) and cited Wikipedia as a source. If you look at the photo of the parade, you'll notice that Spain doesn't have things like fire codes or barricades or safety measures of any kind.

P.S. I found a porno in the living room today. I wonder who it belongs to? Or is it communal property?

False Evidence Appearing Real

So I promised you some juice last post and I've got more than Barry, Marion, and Floyd combined. You wanted to know about my roommates? I share a place with 3 guys: one French (wife/2 kids whom he visits every weekend), one Malaysian (also married) and one Dutch (decidedly single). The French guy goes to my school, the Malaysian to another one, and the Dutch guy to one that I've never heard of cos I thought Barcelona only had 2 B-schools. The last guy, he is what you would conventionally call the best looking of the group but with a soupcon of sleeze. Case in point: He parties it up because he's on break and I'm up when he comes home because I'm still jet lagged. He brought a girl home the other night and remember how I told you I could hear everything? Well, I heard. Every. Little. Thing. I suppose I could have put a pillow over my head but I wasn't going to bed until 9am anyway so I figured I might as well be entertained. But the best part is that afterwards they had some sort of discussion that my salacious mind swears ended with him kicking her out of the apartment against her will.

But I've also been doing things other than listening to my roommate have sex. I woke up while the sun was still out on Friday and it's amazing what that can do for your spirits. I walked to La Pedrera and, that night, invited myself to dinner with my Malaysian roommate. We ended up meeting a big group of first years from my business school at a Malaysian restaurant that was surprisingly good considering that the chef was English (the waiter was Filipino). We went to this cute gothic-style wine bar afterwards and although B-school is a sausagefest, the ratio here seems to be more 1:4 compared to the 1:3 in the States. And since none of the girls wanted to talk to me, I chatted with the guys including one who was wearing a Female Body Inspector shirt. I guess he could kinda get away with it since he was foreign but not really considering that he was lamenting the fact that he hadn't inspected any female bodies since arriving in Barcelona.

This brings me in a rather circuitous route to today's topic (a Buseyism). Fear makes us act weird sometimes. I feared never learning Spanish, never meeting people, and being the one person who doesn't like Barcelona. So it stands to reason that instead of forcing myself to get over the jet lag and get outside during the day, I let myself sleep during the day and didn't even try to speak Catalan. It doesn't matter if I never hang out with those people ever again because it was good to get over my fears and have F-U-N. On a happier note, I briefly went to a school event Saturday night at a bar and started a class today (6 hours a day for the week, ugh!). This school is so much nicer than MSB. It's new and modern and has a small cafeteria--everything MSB is not and does not have. I also went to bed at a reasonable hour last night since I had class today. I went to the pharmacy and was so desperate about my lack of sleep that the pharmacist told me he was going to give me valerian but gave me unisom instead.

You don't have to say what your fears are but I think it's good to acknowledge them to recognize how unreal they are. Hopefully, I will be friendly enough with people to go out on the weekends and that's all I ask for. And I also hope that you guys realize how great you are.

Rain Rain Go Away

Readers, you have brought up very good questions such as "Do you know Spanish" and "Has anything happened?" The answers to both these questions are kind of but not really. It has not stopped raining since I arrived in Spain, for which my roommates blame me entirely. I am also horribly jetlagged and still on West Coast time. Wednesday, I was awake between 5:30am and 12pm and fell asleep on top of the covers, convinced that I would only take a little siesta if I didn't physically get in bed. I woke up at 10:30pm.

I walked around for a bit but my neighborhood, Sant Gervasi, used to be a separate city before incorporation and is quieter. At midnight, it's mainly people going home or walking their dogs. So I puttered around but didn't fall asleep until 7 or 8am. It's actually nice being awake while everyone sleeps. It's interesting to listen to the rhythms of a new city and building. It is practically dead quiet until 6 or 7am when I hear the clinking of dishes as people start breakfast. I can hear everything from my room whether it is an alarm that rings to a Sousa march, the plumbing after a random person pees in the middle of the night, or the hum of the ubiquitous motorbikes that line the tiny alleys here.

I woke up at 6 tonight so I got to walk amongst civilization on Av. Diagonal. I went a department store, El Corte Ingles, where I swear a security guard followed me on the escaltors. I don't blame him since I stand out so much. Aside from the Filipino nannies during the day and one of my roommates, I am the only Asian here. It is the little things that make you feel ridiculously stupid or triumphant. For example, I made dinner wherein I microwaved scrambled eggs because I couldn't figure out how to work the stove (you have to light it first). But, today, I found a place that sells soy milk even if it's overpriced. So, I promise that the next post will be more exciting.

Spain Is Modern Yet Not

Silly me for thinking that Spanish airlines run on time. I missed my connecting flight and had to buy a whole new ticket that cost 200EUR. For a one-hour flight. I guess you could consider it a stupidity tax. They didn't charge me for the excess baggage but put me in a "first-class" seat that as far as I could tell looked like the rest of the plane but was sectioned off and was practically empty.

So I like my apartment and roommates, who are very nice and friendly. I went to dinner with my roommates (don't worry Mark, I'm not attracted to them at all) and one of them took me grocery shopping (don't worry Mark, he's married). My brain almost melted when I realized that there's no skim milk and could not compute the thousands of varieties of little digestive yogurts that exist. Then, I forgot to weigh my oranges before the checkout because there is a machine that will weigh and print a label for fruit but not one that will weigh and scan it at the register.

Tonight, when I go to bed, I will fall asleep knowing that I am in a foreign country. I will sleep with my windows open because there is no air conditioning and there is a clothesline outside my window (complete with clothespins) because I have a washer but no dryer. It stormed all night, which cleared not only the humidity but that lonely, unsettled feeling one has when moving to a new town.