Barcaaaaaah

We arrive in Barcelona Thursday night and as we walk to our hotel we see hundreds and hundreds of students gathered at the placa right outside. What could this be? Oh nothing but the student riot against the privatization of European universities that was on the news the other day showing the violence between the police and students and the students and foreigners. Lovely. However, before we arrived Sarah fought off a man who put his hands in her bag to pickpocket her. All in a day's work.

As we're watching the riot unfold at a safe distance on our hotel balcony I happen to glance up to see a handsome young face on the balcony above. I tell Jenna and we look up again to now see two guapos. We signal Laurel and now there are three slices of Italy staring back. And the friendship began. Stefano, a.k.a. Stevie, Ricardo, a.k.a. Rich the Bitch, (he gave himself the nickname), and Gianmarco, a.k.a Gianmarco...are 22 year olds from Como, Italy. They live in the mountains, know minimal English, and are eager to teach us some Italian. Everyone went to dinner at a place around the corner and then Jenna, Laurel, and I hung out with the boys. I'm not sure how helpful the Italian they taught us is since every phrase somehow led to some inappropriate comment we could make, but we do know how to say "cool". I think that's enough for me.

Well, Gianmarco and Rich went off to the discoteca, while Stevie and I stayed back and talked for two hours, utilizing all of his English vocabulary. I love language barriers. You just feel so accomplished when you understand each other. Or when you think you know what's going on.

The dudes left in the a.m. and we were early-risers for a fun-filled day in Barca. We did the double decker tour bus, stopped at Parc Guell, went to two cathedrals, saw La Sagrada Familia, the football stadium, the Olympic area, the Mediterranean Sea, several works by Gaudi, hit up the Picasso Museum, and at last escaped Hernan, our professor who believes that Spain is the center of the universe and believes that the mere fact that we are not of Spanish descent makes it impossible for us to ever come close to his royal status of a human being nor to his impecable level of natural intelligence. After all, none of us know the symbolism of a glass palace in the works of Mother Teresa, for example. Anyway, Parc Guell was breathtaking. I felt like a who in the land of Dr. Seuss. Also, I can't believe Picasso's most famous work can be recreated by a kindergardener when he has sketches that real art students would have trouble recreating.

Saturday was a tad bit rainy, but we made it up to the top of a house designed by Gaudi called Casa Milo. It was basically a scene from Star Wars on the top of the roof. The attic looked like the top of gothic style cathedrals, and then I sat in a curvy double chair I discovered later that was also made by Gaudi. It was incredible. Currently, administration of a bank functions on floors 2-6.

We then wandered the city in the pouring rain until we reached the Museu Nacional d'arte de Cataluna where we spent the afternoon. The view from the top of the museum on the top of the hill was amazing. Directly across on another hill was a cathedral and in between was a city-filled valley. My favorite artist was Joaquim Mir.

After pondering art for a couple of hours, Tiff, Jenna, Laurel, and I searched for some Magnums, but settled on buying some wine at the grocery store before heading to the Magic Fountain Show outside of the museum. Hello, Disney World! I may not have been in the most magical place on Earth, but it sure came close.

Laurel and I decided to walk La Rambla a bit and we went to the open market, while Jenna went to an Opera/Flamenco show at a mini-Broadway Palau de Musica. We had a lovely chat with a local working at the dry fruit/sweets stand. He began the conversation, "Hey, baby. Your legs are so sexy." I suppose that works on some young American college girls. I responded, "Hey." I was fairly certain Mad TV was close by with the way he kept raising his eyebrows, but apparently not. When we got back to the hotel after Maoz - deliciousness in a 10x10sq. ft. room - we took a quick siesta, which turned into a prenap before deciding to just go to bed for the rest of the night.

Sunday, the breakfast in the hotel did not disappoint again. The Ginger and I headed off down La Rambla, stopped at a Chocolate Museum and a closed Bagel Shop, until we reached an odd carnival/fair sponsored by an insurance company. Cristobal Colon - the statue - pointed us in the direction of the beach, and we plopped down and watched the surfers in their glory on the Mediterranean. They are absolutely the coolest group of people on this planet. I am completely and totally enthralled by them. After that we got some cafe con leche and went on a hunt for sushi. We were unsuccessful, but we did pass all 3 of the Maoz stores in Barcelona, and after gelatto we settled on falafel once again.

I passed out before the train even left the station and woke up in Madrid. Yesterday, we met up with Jonatan for coffee, and today Kristen and I started our internship tutoring English. Right.....

Now, time to dye Easter eggs for an early celebration. Hopefully, the buses are back on schedule since the King was here this morning.