American holiday in a chinese resturant with an Irish friend in Spain

Now that the holidays are coming up, I'm starting to have my first case of homesickness. Thus far, I've had times of missing my family, my friends, and random objects that can't be found in Spain, but now i'm experiencing ligament homesickness. The thought of not being with my family for Christmas is just so strange, and on top of that, I'm apprehensive about spending it with my family here, since we will be with all of there relatives, and I'll be the strange american girl in the corner. I'm sure my nerves are just making me dramatic, but it is going to be an unusual Christmas. And it's odd how much you can miss the little things, like baking christmas cookies, watching Christmas movies, and the worst, a REAL christmas tree. But I'm trying to be positive, and think how amazing of an experience it will be to have christmas in Spain. Thanksgiving is this Thursday, and I'm taking that one a little better, and have made a date with an Irish girl I met here, to have "thanksgiving dinner" at a chinese restaurant here in Olesa. I just find that one kind of humorous and figure I can't have a much more international dinner then that.

Other tidbits:
-I started my internship this week, and I couldn't be happier. The photographer is so kind, and really is willing to help me in whatever way he can. He's reviewing my portfolio now, and we're lining up shoots and assignments that I can go out with him on to observe. He's also helping me organize my own editorial project that I can be working on while I'm here. I think I will learn so much, and have such a great portfolio and resume when I start looking for jobs or internships back home.

- Harry Potter+in Spanish= 10x better
I did feel a little stupid though, because we showed up 45 mins early to the showing, so we'd get good seats, and almost sprinted into the theater as soon as it was open, only to learn they were assigned seats, so it was all a waste. But the movie was excellent and really added to my spanish vocabulary (if I ever needed to cast spells that is.)

The Pope and other random tales...

The big event of the week was El Papa's (the Pope) visit to the city & I was more then surprised how un-peaceful of an event this turned into. Naturally, I couldn't avoid such a conflict (blame it on my lack of debate outlets) so I decided to go in Saturday afternoon to take pictures of the mayhem. And thus begin yet another "fail" for Stevie in the city. Short version: I arrive at the protest, take out my camera, and, realize my battery is at home on the charger. Unfortunate, but not a big deal. I still had an excellent time trying to understand the disputes between the pro-pope and anti-pope crowds. Once I got the protesting out of my system, I decided that I should get back to the bus stop and head home, since it's been getting dark earlier here, and since La Rambla isn't a place to be alone at night. Some how, the bus stop disappeared. I've been there many times now, and never got lost, but what I decided would be a short cut, ended up getting me terribly lost. So I walked and walked, and finally decided to ask 2 police where it was. They gave me a wonderfully vague answer of straight and to the left. So I just started walking, not knowing HOW far straight or HOW far to the left, but figuring I was in the general vacinaty. After about 30 minutes or circling, I had my second attempt at asking directions, which, was equally un-helpful. By this time, I had already missed the first bus, and the next didn't leave for another two hours, so I decided that I was probably close to the bus stop, and I'd just get something to eat and then pick up my search. Fast forward 1:45 minutes. I have been walking, and walking, and finally decided that the bus stop must not be anywhere close, because surly I would have seen it. My new plan is to find a metro, take it back to La Rambla, and start again. Fast forward 30 minutes. Still walking, no metro in sight, have missed the second bus, and am on track to miss the third if I don't find a metro ASAP. Right when my panic mode is about to set in, I see the glowing red "M" of the metro sign, and sprint down the stairs to look at the map and see where I am. I think people thought I was crazy, because I literally almost died laughing when I saw what station I was at, and how FAR it was from where I started, or where I was trying to get. And, sad to report, it was probably my frazzled, hysterical apperance that caused me, minutes later, to get my wallet stolen while on the crowded train back to La Rambla. Conclution: I made it to the bus stop, realized my wallet was gone, my phone was dead, and had no way to pay for the bus or call for help. Thank god for a sweet old lady who punched her bus ticket twice so I could get back to the safe haven of Olesa. Then Sunday I got to spend all day cancelling cards, replacing info, all that fun stuff. Note to self: Protesting the pope= lots of bad karma.

Other notes:
I start my internship for an amazing photographer on the 17th! I'm so anxious and nervous and excited. And have been busy trying to touch up and add to my portfolio, which he wants to see!

Tomas (the little one) said his first, full sentence in english without prompt. Normally, he'll say words, like spanglish, or repeat a sentence if you tell him it, but this is the first time he just came up to me and told me something in english. Thankfully, his mom was there to witness this, and she is just extatic, because she was convinced that'd he'd never speak english. The sentence "I'm going to win because I'm faster then you." A little cocky, and scary, especially with the look he gave me when he said it. But i'll take it anyday, if he's saying it in english.

Creepers, Hospitals, and Internships

Part I: Creepers
This week has been one for creeping, both being creeped on, and doing some creeping myself. I went into Barcelona Sunday with my Irish friend, with plans to have a nice, relaxing evening in the park. However, we soon saw this wouldn't be the case when we got on the metro and two men were persistently staring and, well, being creepers. I'm always a little paranoid, so I just ignored it, figuring we'd get off the metro and they'd bug off. However, once we got off and started walking to the park, we realized they weren't going to leave us alone. So we zig-zaged through crowds hoping to lose them, until finally they sat down at a bench, and we continued on. We spent a good two hours in the park, and finally decided we needed some coffee. But, being a Sunday, nothing was open but a little store, so I went in to ask if they knew of a cafe nearby that would be open. The man replied yes, they're everywhere. And I said, noooo, I've been walking around for two hours and there not. And he said, well how about I invite you to coffee and I'll show you. I declined, he asked why, and I said, duh, because I don't know you. I then just decided to leave, while he stood in the doorway yelling, "do you want me to invite you? I will!" So escaping creeper #2, we decided to count our losses and head back toward the metro. But lone behold, creeper #1 was still sitting on the bench, and of course, as soon as we passed by, he got up and continued his pursuit. We figured it wasn't a good idea to get on the metro again with him, so we did our best to lose him, but to no avail. So we headed back to the metro, and right before we got on our train (which coincidentally, he was going on to) I turned to him, and in flustered Spanish muttered something like "if you keep following us, I'm going to tell the security guard." He must of understood, because that was the end of the creeper situation for the night.

I've also been doing some creeping, but I think mine is a little less... creepy. I've been taking lots of photos, but I haven't really been bold enough to get alot of people shots, which is what I really love, so I made it my mission today to practice my camera creeping, and get some good shots of people, since there is always someone doing something interesting. I'm still not as bold as I need to be, but I'm working on it. And hopefully some of the creeping skills of the Spanish will rub off on me.

Part II: Hospitals
Marta, the mother I'm staying with, got sick about a week ago, with what seemed like a simple cold. But last Wednesday, it escalated, and finally Tomas (the dad) decided she needed to go to the hospital. Unfortunately, she has been there ever since (it will be a week tomorrow.) They figured out right away it was an infection, but for the first several days, they were unable to figure out where it was coming from. They've finally got it under control, and she's expected to come home tomorrow (fingers crossed!) But, this all has meant that me and Little Tomas have been together all week, as how Tomas (the dad) has stayed with Marta at the hospital. I was worried about being alone with him all week, because if we had problems I'd have no relief from him. But it's turned out great, and he's been great this whole time, and seems to be trusting me tons more. He's slept in my bed with me all week, and even though that means I get kicked or hit every 30 minutes, I'm glad he trusts me and loves me this much now.

Part III: Internships
I send out an email to several papers and photographers here in Barcelona, asking for an informal internship, just trying to gain a little experience when I have a few hours to spare. I wasn't really expecting anything to come out of it (especially considering I don't know if my letter in Spanish was comprehend able.) But a I got a response back from and AMAZING photographer here in Barcelona, who is so generous and wiling to work with me and help me with what ever I need. He really focuses on social and photojournalism, which is exactly what I would love to photograph, and has been published in Time, BBC, National Geographic, everywhere I would dream of being published. I have a meeting tomorrow to make a plan with him, and hopefully I'll get to go out on lots of shoots, make some good contacts, and have an amazing experience learning more about photography. Here's his website, take a look if you have a minute, his photos are truly amazing. http://www.charliemahoney.net/

Words accociated....

Today as I was sitting on a bench outside Tomas's (the little boy) school, a mob of giggling 10 year old girls approached me, and one sheepishly said "hello." We procceded (in spanish, seeing how that was the end of their english) and I admitted (as if they hadn't already guessed by my accent) that I was from the US. Upon hearing this, one girl immeaditly shouted out, "DO YOU HAVE SHARKS THERE!" So, with this prompt, I am going to keep an on going list of things, people and objects people have associated me with upon hearing of my homeland... this could get interesting.

When I say USA, you say:
-Sharks
-American Flags
-George Bush (x alot)
-Obama (x alot)
- How I met your mother (the tv show)
- Mc Donalds and Starbucks
- New York, Miami, Las Vegas (all the asians here want to go to LV...)

There will be more to come.. The list is always growing (in size and oddness.)

Fun with Fire (an other festivities)

Public ridicule, Irish slang and American Hatin'!

It's not that Barcelona is a dangerous place by any means. But like all big cities, and especially ones with millions of ignorant tourists roaming around (sidenote: please stop wearing sombreros here, that is Mexico people!) it's natural that there is a crowd who is looking to take advantage of these sitting ducks. Enter the pickpockets. Now, I have read in every tourist guide, and heard from all my friends, that when in especially touristy areas (like La Rambla, where this particular story takes place,) to keep a close eye on your bag. So, with this in mind, i've gotten into the habit of wearing my bag/purse across my chest and having it in front of my body, so it's always in view and not leaving my body. But, the other night, after paying for my meal in a restaurant, and hastily shoving my wallet back into my bag to await my food, I let the purse slip to a, "behind the back" position, and (GASP) left it unzipped, and so it began. A old man with a heavy scowl on his face walked up to be and started babbling at lightning speed in spanish. Needless to say, I didn't understand the first 12 times he tried to tell me something. I though maybe I was in the way, so I moved. Then I thought maybe I was supposed to sit while waiting (all these guesses were promoted by his mad hang gesturing.) Finally, I realized he was telling me that I was stupid. Hmm, a little blunt, and forward. So I asked him why. And he merely glanced down at my purse, and then went into a rant about how i'm just begging to be robbed, with my wallet sitting right there, and me already looking like a tourist (even though I try so hard not to.) By this point my cheeks were scarlet red, the entire restaurant had a grin on there face as the watched this episode take place, and worst yet, I had to eat my meal amongst all of them. I mumbled a bashful "thank you" to the old man, because granted, public shame is still better then being robbed. And needless to say, I now, triple check that my purse is zipped and securely in front of me before stepping foot outside.
I've also began to pick up the subtle (yet intense) hatred for American here. Make note, no one hates me because i'm American, but they just dislike my country. So I don't really take any of it personal, and I actually enjoy seeing and hearing peoples perception of the USA. Similarly to the US, Bush isn't popular here by any means. If I ever bring up his name, people use choice words in describing him. One person I talked to even went as far on explaining his theory how 9/11 was really instigated by Bush. That statement kind of floored me, because they truly believed that. And further more, this wasn't just the lone opinion of a crazy guy, that theory resinates with a lot of the people here. Other people have told me how they find it annoying how the USA seems to have a superiority complex, and how we're beyond being "proud" of our country, to a level where we think we are better then any other country. Someone else asked me if most houses really had American Flags in front of them, like portrayed in a lot of the movies. After seeing one of these said movies, I decided that we're not quite as intense as portrayed, however we do have a good amount of stores and business that have a flag waving, where as here, I've only seen them in front of gov't buildings. I guess I just find it interesting how to me, waving a flag on the fourth of July seems patriotic and supportive of my country, where as here, it seems arrogant.
On a lighter note, there is a girl from Ireland who is living in my town and is also 18. She's here teaching English to a elementary school, but knows absolutely NO spanish, so I've been showing here around and trying to introduce her to more english speakers. But my favorite part is the Irish sayings that she uses, although I usually understand them, and sometimes they're similar to ones we have in the US, there is something about the words she uses and her Irish accent that just cracks me up. So now, I'm going to "put my skates on" so i don't miss my bus into Barcelona!

Winning hearts

After (almost) a month here, I'm finally starting to figure people out, and with that, I now know just the thing to win them over.

Cookies: I made a half-hazerd batch of cookies the other day, and what I thought turned out as sub-par pastries turned out to be a bonding experience and an invitation to stay with the family indefinitely. The ingredients were all slightly different then what I was used to, the oven in celsius, and since baking in your house is a rarity, I had to make do with a casserole dish in place of baking sheets. But as soon as Tomas pequeno saw how we "magically" turned eggs, sugar, flour and chocolate into cookies, he has been attached to my hip since. And Marta and Tomas (the father) walked in the door and sprinted towards the kitchen asking what the wonderful smell was. The plate of cookies was gone in minutes, and Tomas (father) says he is going to clear out his office and turn it into a bakery for me. Marta's niece, Rosamaria comes over every Wednesday after school, so I decided to make a second batch with her. As a 13 year old, I thought she would have baked at least one batch of cookies, but it turns out, she was equally as fascinated as the other's by the "magic" of baking. She literally sat in front of the oven, staring, for the entire time the cookies were baking. I never thought a cookies would bring me so much love.

Translator:
Today, the next door neighbor bashfully knocked on the door and explained that she had a letter that from an english doctor that she had been trying to translate for three hours and to little avail. When I had the letter fully written out in castellano (spanish) 15 minutes later, she was ecstatic. She thanked me for 10 minutes, and said how she was going to invite me over for dinner, and said to make a menu of my favorite foods and she'd make me a " grand dinner." Similarly, all of Tomas pequenos little friends have now gotten over their fear of the tall scary "American" and now run up to me on the street to ask me how to say words in spanish.