I Dare You

So a while ago, I had a post called "Postcards from Far Away," where I talked about sending postcards to people from Spain. At least three of you, my followers, have cards either received or on their way.

The rest of you, I dare you to ask for a postcard. I'll do it, too. Just look at some of the responses posted on my Facebook wall (oh goodness, the self-promotion is terrible...)

Thank you for the postcard! It arrived quickly and with awesome stamps! - Coyote

Postcard received! thank you and please keep sharing pics and stories... you are missed but I am so glad that you are having such an amazing experience en la madre patria. :) - Fatima

LIZZLE! Your GORGEOUS postcard arrived today (I second Valentine's assessment of your penmanship) and I love it love it love it!!! Thank you so much for thinking of me and for sharing your glorious Spanish adventures with me! Indeed that is the most extravagant breakfast nook these eyes have ever seen! I mean...where did heactually eat? Like the only chairs and tables I see are decorative and then there's a couch...thing. So did he lounge like a Roman? If so I imagine he looked at the ceiling a fair bit more than he might have otherwise. Well in either case I would like to send you a (no doubt far less exciting) postcard back! Is your address the same as the one you gave me before, and how long will you be there? Love you to tiny little oh so far away pieces! ♥ ♥ ♥ - Robino

thank you for the postcard - Boudica

LizLiz, I just got your lovely postcard about Spanish fashion. It made me happy. You have fabulous handwriting. miss you ♥  - Valentine

See what a good person I can be?

Things I’ve learned Part 2

This is the second installment in a set of things I have learned so far this summer living away in Spain.

• Barbecues are actually kind of okay.
• The metro is always better than the bus.
• It’s okay to throw out raw chicken if it is expired and has started smelling weird. You should also use the raw chicken before it expires. Keep track of those dates in your head, you aspiring adult, you.
• I cannot, for the life of me, eat an entire loaf of the Spanish version of French bread before it expires no matter how hard I try, so I should just give up and eat Pain de Molde only. I should also only buy food that I can eat within a few days – none of these “saving for later” shenanigans, which mean that I end up throwing spoiled food away.
• Being a businesswoman is probably not my life calling.
• Germans look out for each other. I think the same thing is true of Americans. Then again, it depends on who you are and who you meet.
• It’s okay to take the wrong bus sometimes. Sometimes you end up in a better place. Most of the time, though, you don’t.
• Perhaps it is what you do when you realize you have taken the wrong metaphorical “bus” that determines who you are and your happiness, rather than the “bus” journey itself.
• I like speaking English. It is unfair, though, that everyone knows English in Europe. Everyone else around you is fluent in your language as well as their own, and you struggle to learn a new language while retaining what you remember of the old. (Yes, this is more of an observation.)
• A lot of people my age in Europe seem to be more experienced than me. Come to think of it, a lot of people back in the States seem to be a lot more experienced than me. It might be a function of me being myself.
• I need to learn how to manage my time better, and to think less about my blog and posting and more about living.
•  I need to do more community service.
• I am bad at making decisions and being frank. Being in Europe has helped this, but I still have a long way to go. Also, whenever I heard the phrase, “You have to make the decision which is right for you,” I thought that was the speaker’s way of shirking responsibility for the (not infrequently unwanted) advice they have just given me. I still think that it is their way of shirking responsibility, but I more deeply understand that no one can make my decisions except for me. It is both a great blessing and a great curse. D’oh. Someone recently said, “With great beard comes great responsibility.” Must have been one of my cousin’s friends, posted on his Facebook profile.
• Germans make good friends for Americans, especially when you're both in Spain.
• All you need to do to feel better about yourself is just change your routine a little, and then life suddenly becomes quite a bit better. Also, it helps if you change your routine with at least one friend in tow. (It becomes even better when they invite you for a day trip to Segovia.)

Spooniness in Full Force

I first wrote this post in April of 2009. I never posted it, but I think today might be a good time, especially considering today's other post. Please bear with me.

I was reading an interview with my high school theater teacher the other day, and I have a few fall-out thoughts from the interview and my theater teacher's beliefs I would like to share. Not only is my former teacher a Shakespearean actor, he is also a poet and very interested in Keats. He comes from the similar Judeo-Christian background that I do, but he has adapted some of our common beliefs to suit his own purposes. In doing so, he has only expanded the scope and realm of those beliefs. If you want to know more about what I’m talking about, check the interview out for yourself here.

He talks about inspiration. Other authors have discussed how inspiration, how genius, is something more along the demons, a thing that comes and goes. I agree more with Mr. Tanner; it is not a demon that visits us, but inspiration is rather a conduit that can be opened directly to God.

"Pillars of Creation" - Hubble images

Naturally, I desire to open this conduit. It seems like with many things, however, that it is not to be, try as might. As Mr. Tanner indicates, most people never reach this state. Only after much skill has been acquired, only after much suffering for the sake of craft, only after utter mastery can the craftsmen and craftswomen let go of their training, become vulnerable, open themselves up to God, and become artists. They walk into the dark. This darkness is the light of illumination, of inspiration. We have to lose ourselves in order to find what is bigger than ourselves.

I do not think I have a lack of desire. As I am right now, I lack skill, mastery, and patience, but I know that if I desire this thing to be and put in all my effort, my God will take care of my inadequacies. The following is a poem where I try and overcome my inadequacies, where I try and practice resisting those deficiencies.

“The Violet Hulled Ship”
Elizabeth Lain

My body lies curled around a

rock like a pillow,

naked and waiting.

A straight vine-line cracks my head,

fractures with images of matchmakers

Oozing onto the cement, playing

their game in amber tones.

The line is heavy, the air is old.

Where I am, it shall not be there also

on this empty shore bereft of all

but the vine-line.

My vision fades, into nothing but

the gray on this abysmal handmade shore.

My heart lacks the pulsing fire, it

has not yet been on the pyre. The refiner,

the purifier’s tinctures will remain unscathing. The heart

made of hardened, hand-packed ash cannot rest

in tomes of flesh or flames of respiration.

I lie curled on this shore, waiting for

the ship with the violet hull

which will never come

to bring to life the small violet buds

of the vine-line.

For the violet-hulled ship has already passed,

lingering no longer amidst

a forlorn and forgotten body that cannot

capture the capability.

Nails grate against the cement,

scraping, perfect points of tendon’s tension,

of bone striving against muscle, of dust against rock.

The ship does not return.

Somewhere, beyond the line and empty shore, two

violet orchids wrap around a fractured ivory skull,
kissing it in the darkness.

"Krakatau and Driftwood" - Unknown

Estoy Cansada

I have less than a month left to go in my internship, and I’m tired.

I’m tired of trying to understand a language that I still don’t speak very well, of mosquitoes that bite me in the night, of jokes that I don’t get because they don’t have the right influx, of working and having the work that I do ripped apart. I’ve gotten used to the metro, I’ve gotten used to going to the local supermarkets, I’ve even gotten used to managing on just minimal food because – I admit it – can’t cook very well over here. I’m sick of feeling useless and superfluous. I hate feeling like I’m stupid, which is what this internship does to me a lot – however, it’s teaching me to have a tough skin in a way that school can’t teach.

I bought more stamps earlier today, and I went to my English bookstore yesterday. I’m happy with the three new books I have – Cymbeline, St. Mawr and the Man Who Died, and World Fall – but I’m not as excited as I was when I got the Colour of Magic (which I finished today) and The Book of Lost Things. You won’t be seeing any pictures of me peering over the tops of these books, although I’m really interested in the D.H. Lawrence St. Mawr and the Man Who Died.

I suppose that I can’t be happy and satisfied all the time, or energized and ready to take on all of my tasks. However, I can be optimistic – I can get a good night’s rest tonight, not stay up way too late perusing other blogs or working on this blog, and perusing the internet for good recipes I want to make. (I don't want to have another salami-ham-cheese sandwich for dinner, although they are quite heavenly on any other day.)

Being self-sufficient makes me feel good about myself. Doesn’t it?

"I Just Told You My Dreams" - Eddi

I Have Some Responsibility Now

So today Midori let me know that our mutual friend - and also follower! - Fatima gave a shout-out to me and my blog during a Relief Society lesson at Church on Sunday (a women's meeting during the normal church hours for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, of which I am a member). Although I don't think that touting my blog during a religious meeting is exactly the paragon of appropriateness, I am still grateful that she thought of me and wanted to share my adventures with the women I care about back home.

May the Lord bless my endeavours here in Spain, on this blog, and in the adventures yet to come. Now would be an opportune time, I think, to share part of my testimony: I believe in Jesus Christ, that He is, that He lives, that He is my Saviour, and that his servant Joseph Smith restored the Gospel and the priesthood keys in its fulness. Heavenly Father is very much in our lives, and He will speak directly to us, as well as through living prophets, seers, and revelators. My favourite parts of the Gospel are the promise that families can be together with our Heavenly Father, that I personally can be redeemed from all my sins, and that I can get better and overcome whatever challenges, defects, and failings I have in order to live once again with my Heavenly Father.

It's not much, but it has the most important stuff down, I believe. May this blog be a means to share the Gospel with the world, if even in a small way. Also, Jefferson, I hope you see this - your own blogs, 1 (Aim and Ignite) and A (The Latter-Day Saint Blog), have been an inspiration to me to be a better Latter-Day Saint.

Keep on Dreamin', Boy, Cuz When You Stop Dreamin' It's Time to Die

I seem to have a penchant for using song lyrics as my titles. Aside from being the lines of a great song by Blind Melon, they also remind me of the starry-eyed teenager-I-once-was.

In going to Barcelona, I fulfilled a dream of mine. It was both more and less than I imagined it would be, and even a little bit of exactly what I imagined it to be. It will go the way of all dreams that have been fulfilled - it will settle in my memory until it sinks, dust-filled, to the deeper recesses of the mind's cavern, to wait until I start to forget things and my second childhood comes.

That was rather morose. On a happier note: as one dream is fulfilled and vague, perfect possibilities fade away, another dream is born. This might sound silly, but my newborn dream sounds absolutely lovely to me.

I want to take the trans-Siberian railroad from Moscow through Mongolia to Beijing.

The journey takes six days, and I'm sure there's not much to do other than sit and read and watch as the countryside goes by. It sounds like a perfect occasion to get a Kindle. It also sounds like a perfect worldwide adventure - begin in Europe, possibly London, and end in the Far East. Be a real traveler like the ones we read about in Victorian literature. Think of Anna Karenina every time I see a train or stand on a platform. Get to see China, and perhaps end the journey in Korea or Japan.

When I first heard about the trans-Siberian railroad my sophomore year of high school, I guffawed just as loudly as the other students in my European history class. What a ridiculous - wonderful, Romantic, idle-way-to-spend-your-time - idea.

I believe that we must keep on looking forward and dreaming, because dreams make life worthwhile. We must balance between being content with where we are and wanting more - and dreams are the perfect medium for that.

I don't feel the suns comin' out today 

its staying in, its gonna find another way. 

As I sit here in this misery, I don't 

think I'll ever see the sun from here. 

And oh as I fade away, 

they'll all look at me and say, and they'll say, 

Hey look at him! I'll never live that way. 

But that's okay 

they're just afraid to change. 

When you feel your life ain't worth living 

you've got to stand up and 

take a look around you then a look way up to the sky. 

And when your deepest thoughts are broken, 

keep on dreaming boy, cause when you stop dreamin' it's time to die. 

And as we all play parts of tomorrow, 

some ways will work and other ways we'll play. 

But I know we all can't stay here forever, 

so I want to write my words on the face of today. 

and then they'll paint it 

And oh as I fade away, 

they'll all look at me and they'll say, 

Hey look at him and where he is these days. 

When life is hard, you have to change.

How to Make Your Chocolate Taste like Fridge

First of all, you need a bar of quality chocolate, any quality will do. I suggest Kinder Chocolate, because I think it is German (not Italian), and all German chocolate is good.

Second, you need to have a refrigerator. Put your chocolate at the back of your fridge. You only need to leave it there a day, but if you want a stronger flavor, leave it there for a couple of days. Make sure that the chocolate is near a cooling/freezing agent, and then it fridge water trickles over it at least once.

Take out and throw whatever minimal (non-foil/permeable) wrapping you had around the chocolate. Taste. Mmmm, refrigerator flavor, my favorite. Throw rest of chocolate away because some sort of coolant might have gotten into your chocolate.

The Universe is Peering Back...

For the longest time, I thought that the internet was some vague, formless pool into which I sent my thoughts and ideas and writing, like candles in little paper boats over dark water. With some of the stuff I have written, it’s like letting the universe peer into parts of my soul.

This is going to sound creepy, but I have found a way to peer back just a little.

I recently discovered that Blogger “keeps track of” the number of people who visit the blog. I don't think the statistics are accurate, and whenever I refresh it, I get crazy results, but it's something to grab onto nevertheless and harvest all the information I can out of it.

What I find particularly interesting is the distribution of viewers. Right now, the countries with the most views are the United States (big surprise there), Spain (didn’t see that one coming), and then Japan. I know at least one person who is currently in Japan, but she can’t account for all the traffic I’m getting from there. From the little I know of the Japanese, I think that they are so technologically-savvy and surf blogs all the time. Or someone really wants to learn English and I’m the lucky guinea pig.

The next places where I get the most views are from France and Luxembourg. That took me completely by surprise. So, to any readers or passersby in France and Luxembourg, I give you a gracious “thank-you,” and I want to dedicate this post to you.

I’m also getting readers from the UK, India, Russia, Thailand, Greece, Montenegro, South Africa, and Venezuela. I hope I didn’t scare you off - please keep reading, and keep on coming back!

I also get some traffic from places like Bolivia and Slovenia – however, I actually know who those people are. (Shout out to Tinker and Zil J.)

The Doors

I get obsessive about a few things. For example, chocolate, pants, pictures of me with fire hydrants. (I have not noticed a single fire hydrant yet in Spain, by the way. They must not be as awesome or noticeable as the ones back in the States.) Whilst in Barcelona, I started taking pictures of shop doors because they were so interesting. When I fulfill my calling of being a photograph in an alternate universe, I will go back to Barcelona and take pictures of the most interesting doors in Barcelona and make a poster of them like this:

Up above I meant to say “fulfill my calling of being a photographer in an alternate universe,” not “my calling of being a photograph.” However, I like the mistake I made. It reminds me of cuil theory.

Below are just a few of the many doors Teddy and I saw:

Happy ghost!

This is my favorite by far.

I had to take the picture of the lion on principle.

Koi-san

Koi-chan and Koi-san?

Isn't it adorable!? Interrobang!

This one is actually in Madrid, but I liked it so much that I had to include it.

This Week’s Bane of My Existence is Not Contact Solution

When I flew to Spain from the United States, I brought a supply of toiletries with me, such as toothpaste, deodorant, and contact solution. I didn’t bother bringing soap and shampoo here because they’re abundantly available, and the toothpaste I restocked a long time ago. However, my supplies of deodorant and contact solution are running low, and on Thursday I went to the Alcampo (better European version of Target) near my work. I easily found a suitable deodorant in the personal hygiene section – I was tempted to buy one of the oddly-shaped Garnier ones – and then resumed my search for contact solution.

I am amused.

Ten minutes later, after scoping all four of the aisles, I had nothing. I thought it ironic that it was easier to find appropriate protection and body-firming lotions rather than contact solution, but people want easy access to their products.

Finally, I approached one of the sales clerks and tentatively asked “¿Vendes tú el solucion de las lentillas?” I didn’t know if I had the right words, and she certainly didn’t understand me. She replied, “No se, no se.”

I shrugged and proceeded to purchase the other treasures of the day. Later that evening, I went to the local farmacia near my Spanish class, but I saw no contact solution. Admittedly I did not ask – I wasn’t sure how asking for something in the farmacia worked. I think you have to go in and ask them for what you want specifically. (I needed some sunscreen anyway, so I asked for that. I know, I know, I should’ve just asked for the contact solution in the best Spanish I could, but it’s hard and scary asking for things in a foreign language.)

Yesterday (Friday), as half my co-workers and I were going to the local Alcampo to pick up some food for lunch, I asked my Spanish co-worker how to say “contact solution” and where you can purchase it. First of all, he said that the correct word is “liquido de lentillas” ("solucion" means either a solution to a problem or a chemical solution) and that the farmacia should have some. He also told me that there was a farmacia at the other end of Alcampo, and he offered to go pick some up with me. I was a little chagrined at that – I felt that I was perfectly capable of asking “¿Vendes tú el liquido de lentillas?” but I also like company, and he made the decision by saying "Let's go!" So we walked over to the farmacia together, and he helped me purchase more contact solution.

It was almost disappointingly simple. As such, I have been deprived of a four- or five-day quest and more material to write about.

However, yesterday the strap broke on one of my favorite walking sandals. I can still wear it, but it looks like I’ll need to get some other comfy sandals pretty soon – which is a feat in Spain, as Magi and I learned earlier this afternoon while perusing some of the shopping malls in downtown Madrid. No Mephistos, Birkenstocks, or Eccos for me today.

I smell an upcoming post about sandals.

(Also today - an over-tanned American tourist asked me and Magi in a loud American voice, "Do you speak English?" My desire to speak with another American overcame my dislike of tourists from my country, and I said yes. She pointed to the awesome pants I was wearing and asked where she could get a pair. We were on the Calle de Goya and spent a few minutes explaining how to get to the Goya Metro station where only a few hours before we had seen the exact same pants I was wearing. 

I suggested getting there via Metro because it is my fifth love, and the woman said she had been in Madrid three days and hadn't used the Metro yet [or found a pair of awesome pants - they're literally everywhere here]. Seriously? Anyway, after we had given her directions and Magi and I were walking away, Magi told me that I'm no longer a tourist because I gave someone directions. Upon reflection, I guess that's true. Yeah, I'm no longer a tourist.)

From whirling-dervish.com. Not quite the pants that I was wearing at the time, but I hope it gives you an idea of the type of pants I like. Also: my pants are not see-through.

Also, the photo of the Garnier deodorant was taken from Primp and Preen from her blog,  http://sheprimpsandpreens.blogspot.com/. She hasn't approved it yet, which I hope she will soon...

Update on the Madrid Metro Strikes

As far as I am concerned, there are no more Metro strikes, and the Madrid metro is running just as it should. The trains are on time, and they run frequently. The longest amount of time I’ve had to wait for a train is about three minutes during the week, five minutes during the weekend. Now the rest of us can get back to our lives with a smoothly running metro – at least until the 29^th of September when there’s supposed to be another strike by public service unions. I’m not sure if that means all transportation trade unions, or trade unions such as teachers. Regardless, I will be long out of Spain; incidentally, I’ll be celebrating my birthday in Scotland on that day!

The reason why I have posted the update on the metro is because I’ve been checking my statistics, and the most-viewed post I have so far was "More Inflammatory Remarks About the Public Transportation System in Madrid (Among Other Things)" of July 3, 2010. I think that was due to the fact that I had a title that search engines would be likely to pick up, and some information that people wanted to know. I even had someone from Map Magazine comment on my subsequent post “The Madrid Metro Strike Continues” of July 5, 2010, and I am doing exactly what they want me to by referencing them here.

I’m going to be posting information which is a little more useful to people coming to Madrid because I want more readers. Hopefully, they’ll stumble across my blog for the information and then be caught by my enchanting writing style and wry commentary on Spanish life.

That’s how it would go in an ideal world, anyway. I’m probably driving them away by the hordes with my parochial style and confusing logic. For all of you who have gotten to the end of this paragraph, you have my gratitude. Thanks for reading!

The Barcelona 100 - Take 2

Teddy and I were headed to the beach. Note that we did not bring any towels with us for this trip. I usually take my showers at night, and my plan was to stand in the shower until most of the water dripped off me and then let the rest evaporate as I was falling asleep. This worked fairly well taking a shower the first night. However, going to the beach is an entirely different matter, as sand gets everywhere and you want a towel to sit on. Additionally, the temperature always seems cooler at the beach than a kilometre away from the beach, and a toasty 30 ᴼ C suddenly becomes a pleasant 28 ᴼ C. [I just made those numbers up.]

Beach!

We got to the beach, nestled down on a bit of sand, and watched the waves roll in, the people walk by, and the sky change colors. The beaches in Barcelona are not very clean, and I only stood in the water up to my knees – Mediterranean water, mind you. Teddy and I took our turns in the water because we didn’t want our stuff to get stolen, and then for the rest of the time we laid with our heads resting on our shirts (resting on our purses resting on our flip flops resting on the sand). We stared up at the pinky-blue sky and watched as the clouds changed shape.

It sounds so wonderful, sitting on a beach in Barcelona and watching as the clouds scud by, naming shapes and letting the imagination take hold of the sky. There is something Romantic in it all, a feeling that I had while sitting there and three days later when I’m writing this post.

The National Art Museum and its fountains.

Afterwards, we caught bus to Playa Espanya. (Catalan is different than Castellano, and as a person who is learning Spanish, I found it really confusing. Who calls an exit a “sortida”? What happened to the familiarity of “salida” which you find in the Madrid metro?) We got off at the huge roundabout there, and my eyes went wide at the two towers which marked a wide street up towards the National Art Museum. The street was lined with light water fountains, and at the end of the street on top of a hill was a gigantic fountain. A crowd had gathered around it, and after a few minutes of waiting, music started playing and the lights changed color in a water show. It was like misty magic playing right in front of our eyes.

The magical fountain, which kind of looks like a jell-o pudding.

Afterwards, we went back to Las Ramblas and grabbed a bite to eat at an all-you-can-eat tapas bar.

And now on to Monday. The evening at Hostel New York was much quieter, although it was much hotter than the night at Auberg Palau. We checked out, took a quick jaunt to the train station to leave our bags in a locker, and then we went out adventuring again. This time, we went to the Casa Mila, did some shopping, and then I took a quick tour of the Casa Batllo because I really wanted to see it. Both of these buildings were again done by Antoni Gaudi, and they were pretty amazing. I only spent about 25 minutes at the Casa Batllo because Teddy and I had to catch a train back to Madrid in less than two and a half hours after I purchased my ticket.

Casa Mila

Casa Battlo

Casa Mila again

However, actually being there, my expectations overran the experience. I didn’t enjoy it as much as I thought I would. If you read my last post, you should know that I had dreamed of seeing these places for five years. That’s quite some expectation. However, now as I look back on my pictures, the buildings are indeed very beautiful. Perhaps the downfall of Guadi’s architecture is so detailed that it needs to be focused, cut, cropped, and bounded within a photograph.

After the casas, we caught the train back to Madrid, and our Barcelona adventure faded back into quotidian Madrid life. This has been only a quick sketch of my few days in Barcelona, and obviously a lot of thoughts and details are missing. I have to keep some things for myself, don’t I?

The Barcelona 100

Today marks a momentous occasion. This is my hundredth post, and what better way to celebrate than posting about my adventures in Barcelona, Spain‽ Thank the stars for the concordance of trips and posts into such an opportune time. It was a wonderful time, and I fulfilled one of my life dreams by going to Barcelona. However, before I talk too much about Barcelona, I'll tell you more about Teddy's visit. We spent the first day of her visit here in Madrid, exploring Puerta del Sol, the Prado, the cathedral behind the Prado, and Plaza Mayor.

The Prado is that-a-way, man.

As we were outside of the Prado, we were approached by an older man who started to talk to us and ask us about Madrid. We were obviously tourists, pouring over our maps, and I wasn’t necessarily happy to be approached by a well-meaning but overly-helpful Madrileño. He asked us how much Spanish we knew, and said that we should practice Spanish everyday for eight hours for several weeks if we really wanted to get good at it. Who has the patience and the free time to study Spanish for that long?

There was a cathedral behind the Prado, and I wanted to see inside it. The man, very kindly, asked if he could come with us, and we couldn’t exactly say no. We walked up the steps (on a red carpet, mind you) to the entrance, and we walked in on the middle of a wedding. The cathedral was full of people, and the bride, groom, and priest looked small as they stood at the end of the nave. We made our visit brief, and were out in front of the cathedral in no time. The older man did not overstay his welcome by much, as Teddy wanted to listen to a guitar player in the shadow of the Prado, and the older man wanted to go to the Botanical Gardens nearby.

The following day, we got on a Renfe train, and three hours and a lot of Spanish countryside later, we arrived in Barcelona. Barcelona, say it slowly and let it roll off your tongue. Barcelona, city of dreams and magic and wistful futures, of voyages and crossroads. We had arrived.

Leaving the apartment early in the morning

You bet your bottom that's a Renfe train.

What the Spanish countryside can look like.

We got our tourist Metro tickets, and then we were off on the Metro to our hostel in the Gothic Quarter. Our first night was to be at the hostel Alberg Palau, and we wandered the narrow, winding streets of the Gothic Quarter before finding the correct, cozy little side street where our lodgings were located. I had never stayed at a hostel before, so this was going to be quite an experience.

I was really surprised when we arrived at the hostel and it was so clean and neat. It took up an entire floor of a building from the nineteenth-century, and all of the rooms circled around a central skylight. The windows were always open, and you could see across the courtyard into every part of the hostel (well, every part of the hostel which wasn’t a room). Every room got light, especially the breakfast nook.

Look at the happy frog! How can you not trust that frog?

I did not remember to take a picture of the common areas of the hostel, but I did manage to find the drawing I had made in order to get from the train station to our hostels.

Teddy and I were put into a room with five other chicas, one from Seville and the other four from France. We had French doors which opened onto a balcony overlooking the street below. There was no air conditioning, but a nice breeze came through the door. We settled our stuff down, made an itinerary, and were off to wander around Barcelona.

We saw a bit of Las Ramblas, although we didn’t spend too much time there, and we got lost and distracted looking at clothes - especially kurta pants, which are all the rage in Spain. We wandered over to La Cathedrale de la Santa Maria del Mar (who knows if that is correct). Interestingly enough, we caught the tag-end of a wedding at the Maria del Mar. Two cathedrals and two weddings in two days. Go figure.

We walked along the Carrer de Colom (they say “carrer” instead of “calle” for street in Barcelona, I think) and towards the marina just as the sun was setting. The air was moist and cool, and the sky was pink and cold. In the middle of the sky, there was a little glowing white wedge. Any pictures I have taken don’t do justice to the atmosphere and the immensity of the marina, the street, the sky, the moment.

Sunday morning, were off to see the Sagrada Familia. A few stops on the Metro and we found ourselves blinking in the sudden sunlight at the mass of towers that is the Temple of the Sacred Family. I was incredibly excited, because I had wanted to go to Barcelona and see buildings by the famous architect Antoni Gaudi for nearly five years. (That is a quarter of my life span, by the way. If I have any older readers, like Mom and Dad, that isn’t much to someone like you who is much wiser and has experienced more, but my perspective changes when I put the years into percentages. I hope yours does, too.)

We bought our tickets and the use of an audio guide, and we were on our way into the cathedrale amidst the milling crowds.

I am happy.

Despite being in the process of achieving my dreams, I was a little dissatisfied as we entered the cathedral. There were a lot of people and it was rather warm out, making me sticky and sweaty, which took up a lot of my patience, but then I had problems with my camera. First of all, my camera wasn’t taking crystal-clear pictures every time like I expected it to. Secondly, everyone I asked to take a picture of me didn’t know what they were doing. It gets boring if you take a picture of someone and they’re standing in the middle of the frame in every single photo, full-body shot. There is a reason why the viewfinder and the digital camera preview were invented: you can see your picture before you take it, which means that you can crop the picture and make it artistic, or at least interesting!

Note: As you can tell, I did not take this picture, which is why I don't particularly care for it.

Anyway, this was a momentous occasion in my life, and I wanted to document it well – not have a collection of poor, blurry pictures as remnants of my memories. I didn’t want to spend all of my time taking and retaking pictures until they came out, either. (Yes, Mom, this is a blatant plea for a new camera for my birthday.)

I was also disappointed by how incomplete the cathedral was. I knew it was still under construction, but I hadn’t realized how much it needed. Much of the area where the altar will go is unfinished, and there was nary a hint of a pew. The audio tour expected it to be done by 2030. That’s a whole lot of work which needs to be done on the cathedral in twenty years by about 200 or so people. I take solace in the fact that the exorbitant fees charged by the Sagrada Familia are the only way that construction continues on the cathedral. Now Teddy and I have contributed a little piece of the Sagrada Familia, along with millions of other people.

Nevertheless, it is still a beautiful, beautiful building. My immediate impressions were that it was a gigantic sandcastle.

Sandcastle!

The colors were really, really beautiful, like a watercolor rainbow.

After the Sagrada Familia, we checked into Sunday night’s accommodations, Hostel New York. We had our own room this time, although it was on the fourth floor, had one tiny little window, and no air circulation. The hostel was kind enough to give us a fan which we kept running constantly. Hostel New York was nowhere near as quaint or personable as Alberg Palau, but not all things can be equal. After a quick change of costume in our room, Teddy and I were ready to hit the beach.

The view from the Alberg Palau, where we stayed the first night.

Thus ends the first installment of the Barcelona adventure. This post has already gone on way too long, and I have lost so many details and thoughts just getting the bare bones of what we did down.

Vacation Response

A friend of mine, Teddy, has flown down from England to visit me for a few days. I took two days' worth of vacation for her visit, and today we explored a bit of Madrid. Tomorrow we're going off on an adventure and we'll have a grand old time. I won't have access to a computer for the next few days (read: I will be too busy having fun to write posts), but you can expect something schnazzy by the time I come back. I sure expect something schnazzy.

More Interrobang

For a very long time, my favorite form of punctuation was the semicolon (;). It is neat, concise, and easily joins two distinct but related thoughts together. It doesn’t have the connotations of a colon (:), which makes me think of colonoscopies. Semicolons are like wedding rings for a married couple or a long-term contract for a band with a records company.  Needless to say – I like them.

However, the semicolon has a challenger for my favorite punctuation: the interrobang (‽). 

The interrobang is the holy combination of the question mark and the exclamation mark. The interrobang replaces punctuation like “!?” and “?!”, and that’s about it. The interrobang is not as versatile as the semicolon, but with a name like “interrobang,” it’s hard not to like.

Additionally, interrobangs are connected in my mind with Cuil Theory. The real reason for this post and talking about interrobangs is really so I can talk about Cuil Theory some more. In the original post, someone might have mentioned an interrobang, or perhaps it was Coyote who made a comment about interrobangs sometime after our Cuil-Off.

I just checked the Wikipage for Cuil Theory, and indeed the interrobang is one way to represent Cuil. However, I was fully prepared to create a memory where they said that interrobangs were part of the Cuil Theory Style and Writing Guide. I was prepared to say that the interrobang is the preferred way to end all sentences having 3 Cuils or higher

I still choose the semicolon as my favorite form of punctuation, but the interrobang makes a close second. If however you find a chance to use an interrobang, don’t hesitate. Spread the interrobang!

I demand more interrobang

Oof

Today one of my fellow interns quit. Her decision was unexpected, and it caused the rest of the interns to have to scramble to learn how to do her tasks and get them done today. Needless to say, it threw a wrench in my project planning, as well as everyone else's projects, but such is life.

I understand her reasons for leaving the company, but she will be missed, especially by me. She sat at the desk directly across from mine, and I had to go through the day without having anyone to look at, tell me about the crazy things she had to moderate, or ask me about an obscure English word I may or may not be able to explain. I have inherited her office plant, and it will be looked after.

With this new development, I certainly won't be bored at work anytime soon.

My co-worker and I are taking a Spanish language course together, and we had class this evening. So I got to see her, and afterwards we stopped at a little cafe alongside the Parque de El Retiro. It was good getting to chat with her and to see her in a setting outside of class and work. We chatted about work and experiences as the sun faded over the Spanish sky.

It was very nice.

Quotidian Updates

I finished The Book of Lost Things yesterday. Although the beginning had great promise, it was not the perfect book I wanted it to be. It was full of too many tropes and predictable turns. Nevertheless I found it surprisingly poignant because of its themes on childhood, adulthood, and mortality. I rate it good, and an important book for me to have read at this point in my life, but not a great novel which will change the very fabric of my thought. 

It seems that few things these days will monumentally change me nowadays. I am left clinging to the books and music I discovered two, three, five years ago.

Take a message to her head,

Just stay beside her in the bed,

You were so stupid to believe in things
You couldn't see, then make them
All you want...

It makes it all withdraw
All the anger and loss
But it all keeps
Coming back
In the morning

Today, it’s on to Terry Pratchett’s Color of Magic. The reading is denser than in The Book of Lost Things, so I actually have to pay attention - yay! I don’t expect The Color of Magic to take a long time, so I am willing to hear suggestions on what I should get for my next book. That is, if anyone is willing to comment on these posts. J&J's Bookstore has a pretty good collection of classic English literature, so I may start there.

If you didn’t already know, Spain won the World Cup. Madrid’s Metro strike is also over.

I am also learning Spanish, and I can speak better! I’m beginning to be marginally conversant! Whoo!

Lyrics from "On Any Sunday Morning" by Counting Crows. Also, Coyote, I expect you to comment on this post.

Curl - Matt Duffin

España!

And Spain has won the World Cup! National holiday here in Spain, anyone? The football team has just attained the status of national heroes, methinks.

(Okay, I admit, I didn't go to Sol or Gran Via to watch the game - I don't like crowds, but I got enough of it with all the people watching and celebrating near my apartment. 'Tis indeed grand.)

And this song has been playing in my mind for the last little while. All the commercials for the national team have this as background music.

Note: the World Cup is actually very small.

This Week's Bane of My Existence

Stamps. I have been on the lookout for them ever since my second week in Spain, thinking that I will go and purchase them if I happen to pass by an estanco, or tabaqueria, which sells them. (I realized too late that I could purchase stamps at the place I registered for my Metro pass. I was right there, in the same shop.) 

Anyway, I have some long-overdue postcards to send, and my project on Tuesday was to find a place where I could buy stamps. That day was also my find-a-book-in-English day, so I was pretty busy. After going to the bookstore, I stopped off at Sol to get some more postcards and look for an estanco, but it was getting late, I was tired, and I let myself off the hook because I felt so accomplished for having bought not one but two books in English earlier that day.

Wednesday was the match, and so I gave myself off that day, too.

Thursday we had a barbecue after work, so I went to that instead.

Friday I found an estanco on GoogleMaps, and I thought I had the right bus station. At about 8:45 p.m., I hopped on a bus, but it was the wrong bus because it didn’t take me where I wanted to go. I got off, looked around for an estanco, didn’t find one, and then spent twenty minutes waiting for the right bus to come and pick me up. (Public transportation failure – four other buses came before mine did.) At this point, it was almost 9:30 p.m., and I still had to buy food from the local grocery store (Lidl), which closes at 10 p.m.

My stamps would have to wait for another day.

And that day was today. I have been to the Estrella supermercado a few times, and across the street is a tabaqueria. To make sure that there really was a tabaqueria there, I looked at the street view on GoogleMaps. (Despite my best efforts, I can’t figure out how to take a screen shot on my computer or find a picture on the internet, but I'm trying to show you what it looks like. To compensate for my lack of computer skillz, just imagine a maroon-and-yellow T hanging above a shop door.) I found the tabaqueria and was on my way. I got lost a little bit, because I pick a direction before thinking about the best way to get somewhere – I want to look like I know where I am going, but such a desire causes me more trouble than it’s worth. However, that is neither here nor there, and I arrived at the tabaqueria with little incident.

I joined the line, which was about four people deep. As other people bought their cigarettes, and I kept thinking that this is place couldn’t possibly have stamps to send my postcards to the U.S. By the time it came to me, I asked the sentence I had prepared in my head: “¿Vendes los sellos para los Estados Unidos?”

To my surprise, and gratification, she said “Si.”

She took her time finding them, and she asked me if I wanted one. Ha ha. No, I wanted eighteen. Granted, I don’t have eighteen postcards to send – right now – but it took me this long to figure out how to get stamps, and I wanted to make sure that I had enough for the next round. She got my eighteen stamps, I paid for them, and then I went on my merry way.

I now have eleven postcards, written, addressed, and stamped. I forgot to put them in the mailbox today. I won’t forget to put them in the mailbox, though, because unlike post offices (which don’t sell stamps anyway, or so I’ve heard) and tabaquerias, post boxes really are everywhere. To prove this, there is one just outside my apartment building. It looks like this:

This isn't my "correo" box. Mine has graffiti on it. It gives it extra personality, I think.

Spain for the World Cup

Spain is moving on to the finals against the Netherlands in the World Cup. I watched the game from my home on Wednesday, and I had very noisy neighbors who alerted me to exciting moments if my attention started to drift.

In still more other news, the Metro is back to its old self. Regularly scheduled times, no strike that affects me directly… It’s wonderful. I still don't like the bus system, though.

Slowly and painfully, my Spanish is getting better. I'm beginning to use the past tense correctly (yes, slow going, I know - I've been here more than a month and I can't use past tense), instead of saying "antes" + present form of verb I wish to use.

Everyone is Secretly Jewish

I'm taking the night off to watch the Spain-Germany match (admittedly at home, resting - I'm sorry, I'm sorry), which is why it's useful to have back-up posts for these kinds of days when it's pretty slow or I'm feeling lazy.

Last semester, Boudica and I had a conversation about men and women’s body types. I think that a man should have broad shoulders and a tiny waist, not unlike this character here.

Because we are college students amused by simple shapes, I thought that men had the general shape of an upside-down triangle. Boudica made the comment that women’s bodies were larger down near their hips. Now, this is a bit of a difficult point. Admittedly, women’s bodies are shaped more like hourglasses than triangles, but an hourglass is a rather complex shape, and Boudica and I tried to stick to simple things – a circle was too simple, a square too complex.

Now imagine that you and I are standing behind a woman (triangle) and a man (upside-down triangle). Now, see the diagram below for what happens when we look at them standing together:

Yes, indeed. Some people might argue that men are larger on the bottom and women are larger on the top. If you think this is the case, we can simply adjust which triangle is which, and we get this:


No matter how you look at it, men and women make Stars of David. I think you know what illogical generalizations we can make from this discovery.

Everyone is secretly Jewish.

To make everyone feel welcome here, (yes, on a Mormon blog), I want to include something for those who identify other ways. I have in mind a vague idea of the Triforce... I'm not sure how it would work... but you're all hot little elves named Link, Nestor, and Avery? It's a weak attempt at including everyone, I know. Suggestions welcome.