Bethapest

People are so nice when they know that you're sick. I've been shown more love and hospitality, and given more words of encouragement in the last 12 hours than I have in the last month all-together!

Let me start at the beginning:

Yesterday started much as any other day has here in Budapest: me waking up early and waiting for everyone else to be up and lively.

Once our group was ready to go though, we headed off to the thermal baths in City Park. The walk there was only about 20 min, and lovely. (We stopped on the way for some questionable chicken schnitzel sandwiches). Once there, we bought tickets and headed to the changing rooms. (But not before we took the opportunity for photos of the hot outdoor baths. Huge changing areas with nifty watchband locks, showers, hairdryers: the works.

 The walk to the bath, along Andrassy Ut

Heros Square in City Park

The Museum of Fine Arts

We came across this pond that was steaming! (likely because there are hot springs under the entire city...)

Mysical :)

Ducks!

I just liked this one, so I thought I'd share!

And this one..

The outside of Szechenyi Spa

The sign above the door

Alaska, Montreal, Toronto (another one!), Madrid and I can't remember where he's from..

Toronto, Me and Alaska! You girls are awesome!

Outside, we ran straight from the warm building, into the cold winter air, and into the steaming water of the first bath we came across. The girls had agreed to meet the boys, however, the sheer size of the place meant that we didn't meet them until much later. The girls spent about half an hour soaking in the swimming-pool-sized bath with hundreds of other people, standing over the air jets, and taking a tour from the lovely, Montreal. We decided to try the indoor pools, so we made a run for it to the sauna. The saunas in this place can fit anywhere from 10-30 people; sweaty, sweaty people. The heat was so extreme that my necklace was starting to burn my neck. We met up with one of the guys at this point, and made another run for it to the indoor pools. There were probably 15 different rooms, each with at least one pool, all with different temperatures, and different features. Some were sitting pools, some were swirling pools (the one we tried was COLD so two of us backed out while Montreal took the plunge!) And some were exercise pools.

We met my friend, Toronto, who was supposed to be having a massage. Apparently you need to specify when you want a specific gender massage-therapist.. He didn't want a dude massaging him (wimp!) Outside again and into a hotter bath than the first one we tried (the first was 34 degrees, and the second 38, and the 4 degrees made a world of difference!) This bath had a waterfall type feature that meant that the entire pool was covered by a misty steam that made it near impossible to see more than a few feet in front of you. It was starting to get dark by this point, and the lights were coming on. It was really quite lovely.

All in all, the thermal baths were well worth the 3200 HUF (approx. 16 euros) to go in. We probably spent a good 4 hours there and it was a lovely, relaxing experience. I now know why people stay in Budapest. (Not that I didn't before, but its much more evident now!)

I think my mom would really enjoy the baths, once she got over the idea of sitting in warm pools with hundreds of people, anyway.

Shower, change, bundle (but not too much inside because your body is still so hot from the baths). We headed back to the hostel in two groups, checked out an all-you-can-eat buffet on the way and decided that 16 euros was far too much to pay for the evening's meal. We got another recommendation for another Hungarian restaurant in the area. At 7pm, I lead the group to Barladino Which was only about two blocks away.

Some people asked the server a million question before ordering, and we were pretty sure she hated us. Goulash again for most of us, chicken strips with wildberry sauce and croquettes and Hungarian pasta with mushroom sauce was what I got (split with another person). This was about the time the sickness started to set in. I ate my whole bowl of Goulash, but it took me a while. After that came the chicken and all I had to do was look at it to know that it wasn't going to go down well. Its that feeling of impending hours of ill that comes just as you smell something that normally would be delicious. Not today. I must have visited the washroom 5 times in the hour and a half that we were there. (I only gagged the last time). By the time the bill got to us, I felt a light sweat coming on, and looking at the bill was just confusing.

At the hostel, I laid down for a while, watching a movie with some other people, but a bed is much better than a couch, so I went to bed around 10:30. Everyone else was headed out, so thankfully there wasn't much noise in the place.

Details are clearly not necessary, but I will say I woke up at 1:38 and made a run for it (which is actually quite impressive that I made it, considering that I'm on the top bunk!)

After that, I went upstairs to get some hot water and try to relax some more. I ended up settin up in a small room with only a small couch and a tv: Just me, my water and a garbage can. Cozy.

In the hours since being sick, I have been offered water probably 30 times, tea, electrolytes (which I accepted), blankets, back rubs, a pillow, ear plugs, my cell phone, and various offers of shout, or message me if you need anything. Oh, and a kiss on the cheek from Alaska before she left this morning. All of these offers of kindness are very much appreciated. I've moved from my cozy bed this morning as little as possible, writing this post on my BlackBerry between catnaps. I should probably move to my bed at some point...

...


I did move from my bed, and visited the world's second largest Synagogue with Toronto. It was lovely. I was a little slow moving today, obviously, so we didn't spend alot of time walking around, but we spent enough. I took pictures of him so that he could show his family what a good Jewish boy he is.

The Jewish Synagogue

Again.

Good Christian Girl at the Synagogue. God still lives there, right?

There is a mass graveyard outside the Synagogue in the garden and this sign, along with two signs each with a couple hundred names on them are in the garden.

Never Again!

Dinner was tomato soup at a local restaurant. Now to relax, grab a shower and wait for 3am when we'll grab a cab to the airport in order to make it back to Barcelona.

Buda. Pest. Boxing Day.

So I guess I should add a pre-cursor to this blog and let you know that I'll be adding pictures once I'm back to my own trusty laptop in Spain, so if you're reading this post, come back in a few days and there should be pictures added.

Boxing day started a little frustrating for me, if you hadn't guessed by my post yesterday (and the fact that some people seem to need more than a few hours of shut-eye before venturing out for the day. I mean, really, why can't you go for three days on eight hours of sleep??) it took forever for things to get going!

Anyway, so once we got everyone up and moving around, we went to the Free Walking Tour. Only, we missed the tour by about ten minutes, so we toured ourselves. One of the guys from the hostel had showed us a few places that they would be taking us on the tour, so we went there ourselves. It wasn't a very nice or clear day out yesterday (and it isn't today either) so we skipped the Citadel where you can get a view of the whole city. No point in looking out over Pest from the highest point in Buda when you're not going to see more than you can from The Castle. We got pictures of Parliament and The Castle, and the Chain Bridge which we walked across, and a few of the buildings and statues. We saw the Opera House, but we didn't bother taking a tour. We tried to go to Terror House (which is a museum of two of the worst periods in Hungarian history- the Nazi regime and the Communist period) but the museum is closed on Mondays. We'll do that later today.

A Lamp Post. :)

The Basilica

Again

...

A statue of a police man.. clearly had to get a photo with him!

I think this was a University.. I could be wrong.

A statue by the University

First picture of The Chain Bridge

Pretty sure this is Mathias Church in Buda

The Chain Bridge with The Castle behind it

Lion!

The Duna River between Buda and Pest (they are now one city, but this river divides the halves and they are still lightly referred to by their former names)

The Citadell in Buda

Part of The Castle

The Chain Bridge from the Buda side.

Me!

A Statue at The Castle

The Parliament Buildings in Pest. I believe it's the largest in Europe, but I could be wrong.

Buda.

Another shot of Buda (notice that Pest is flat, and Buda is hilly)

Another statue- they are very proud of their hunting days!

Woof. :)

The University all lit up!

The Chain Bridge all lit up!

This is a wall of chains outside the Terror House. Its a museum of horrors based on the Hungarian experience of the Nazi and Soviet regimes. We didn't get to go, but I really wanted to!

We decided to try a recommended little place for some traditional Goulash.

It. Was. Delicious!

For those you who don't know what Goulash is, it is a tasty beef and vegetable soup type dish. The guy who was serving us in the small restaurant tried to tell us it was spicy. Maybe to Hungarians paprika is spicy, but this Goulash wasn't spicy at all. One of the girls, we'll call her Alaska, asked what the difference was between Goulash and Beef Stew. His reactions was: "Well... Everything." She asked about the Fish soup and he then proceeded to try to explain that the fish soup is pureed. "You won't find any carrots swimming around in there". Really? Swimming? HAHA! Such a funny moment in my life. We were all dying with laughter on the inside while trying not to offend the man or embarrass him by laughing out loud, lest he decide to really spice our Goulash or add some extra flavouring of his own. Speaking of spice, we also had Mulled Wine. It is also a tradition in Hungary, and reminds me of something similar to hot cider. It has a few spices in it, but isn't spicy either, and it is essentially hot wine with some fruit in it (imagine hot sangria with some spice).

After dinner, it was back to the hostel to find out what everyone else was up to. It turns out that there was another night of drinking in store. Cheap drinks too. We got directions to the place and decided to chill for a bit and play some Foosball before going out. Brazi's vs. Canadians. (The Brazi's schooled us, but they did it nicely... and at least the one guy kept his shirt on this time!)

Out at the bar there was karaoke going on... enough said.

I didn't sing, of course, but I sang along while other people did. We got a bit of a dance party going on, and in true Bethalona fashion, I managed to allude a few of the drunken gentlemen to whom I must have looked as drunk as they were (otherwise I can't see why they would think I'd be down to make out with them in a dark corner).

On the way home the group of us decide to stop at MacDonald's. Double cheeseburgers at 3a.m. are the same in every country, and the fries ended far sooner than they should have. I definitely did not have enough to eat for a day of walking and dancing yesterday.

Once back at the hostel, none of us were tired yet, so we stayed up chillin in the lounge area. There was a bit of a water war going on and some of us got drenched (it's okay, we got the others back just as bad!). There was also an M&M war, but I stayed out of that one (I do not believe in cruelty against M&M's or wastefulness when it comes to those tasty treats). Finally around 5a.m. the party wound down and we all went to bed.

I've been up this morning since 8:30 (yes, three hours of sleep) so we'll see how the day goes. We haven't done anything yet, but we're planning on visiting the Thermal Baths and walking around City Park.We'll try to make it to the Terror House and the Synagogue. ... Yes, you read that right, I 'm going to a Synagogue. My friend is Jewish and he'd like to see it, so we'll go. It's the second largest Synagogue in the world, so I guess if I'm going to go to a Synagogue, this would be the one to go to! 

Well, I suppose I should get off the computer and hope that the girls we're meeting come back from the train station soon!

Buenos dias!

Budapest Christmas

Merry Christmas (actually, its Boxing Day, so I hope you're all out shopping and getting those great deals at every and any store possible, and not getting trampled by the crazy people who just have to shove you out of the way to get that brand new controller for their wii).

I'm in Budapest! You may be wondering why I'm in Budapest and spending time to blog.. Well, it's because my travel companion (along with many of the others who are staying at this hostel) is still sleeping. I'm assuming he had a late night last night as when I went to bed, most people were still up watching movies (or out partying). I was falling asleep to Hook at 1:30a.m., so I went to bed.

Let me start from the beginning and tell you what's happened so far:

Friday night I spent hanging out with some friends in Barcelona, spending a little quality time before I'd be gone for 5 days, so I cabbed home at 2:00a.m. and didn't make it to bed until about 2:30. I slept fitfully, waking up ever 20 minutes, either to a BBM message from the friend I had just left who was apparently also not sleeping, or with a start thinking "OMG did my alarm go off?! Did I miss my flight?!" I finally got up at 6:15a.m. to get ready, finish packing and head out to the airport. I left my house at 7a.m.Once at the airport, I kept having tiny panic attacks that my bag would be too heavy, or too big and I'd have to check it. Thankfully, no one even looked at my bag, even as I boarded the plane. I slept most of the way on the plane, simply because of sheer exhaustion, but as we were descending, the pain in my head was too extreme to sleep through.

As with the other countries I've been to, once you're off the plane, you need to navigate your way through the airport and to whatever train/bus/metro will take you where you need to be. In some places, the signs in the airport or train terminals are in two languages (typically, the language of the country, and English). This is not the case in Budapest. The signs are only in Hungarian. Being that I've never had to read a Hungarian sign of any sort, this posed a challenge for me. I exchanged money at the airport and found out where the train station is. I boarded the train that would take me into Budapest and arrived at the station. From here, I was on my own. The people in that area were somewhat sketchy and I wasn't sure I really wanted to make myself known as a lost tourist, so I walked with purpose with my bag strapped to my back, feeling heavier and heavier by the minute. I finally had to give in and ask someone where to go, because there were no signs pointing to ANY streets, let alone the street I wanted to be on. I had looked up directions and put a map in my phone so that I wouldn't get lost. The person I asked directions from didn't speak any English, but he was able to point me in the direction of the street, so I am thankful for that.

I walked about six blocks and then found my hostel. I won't post any pictures of the front of the hostel, because I suppose the first floor of this particular building is actually a sex shop. I'm not sure what the words say, but the articles in the windows suggest a Hungarian version of the Stag Shop. I was a little hesitant, but I rang the hostel and was let up to the 4th floor. The hostel staff are great. They're very friendly and very helpful. There were quite a few people in the place when I got there, because it is actually the Hungarian Christmas on December 24th, so they were preparing Christmas dinner with 3 other hostels in the Carpe Noctem family.

I put my things down in my room, met a few people and signed online to let my family know I was here and safe. There were Christmas movies playing, so I joined the people watching them. We played games (well, I watched) but the headache I got from the plane ride got too intense for me to stand it, so I went to siesta around 5:30p.m. Mike was to arrive around 7, so when he got there, we both napped for about an hour before heading back upstairs to the common room. My headache was much better by now, so we chatted with everyone before dinner at 9. I was first in line for dinner (I hadn't had anything but a peanut butter sandwich since waking up, so I was hungry). They piled a plate FULL of food, of which I probably ate half before I felt like I was going to die of over-consumption. We drank hot wine (a Hungarian tradition) and got ready to go out. I found out that the two Americans I had met from New York were staying in my room as well, as well as two Aussie boys, one of which had been attempting to chat me up earlier in the night, and the other of which was giving his friend approving looks. No thanks :).

We went to a bar about a ten minute walk from the hostel and danced the night away. I didn't drink too much, but shared my friend's drinks, which he was kind enough to share with me throughout the night. The bar was smokey because people are allowed to smoke indoors in this country. It's been a while since I've been exposed to second hand smoke in a closed in space, so I felt my eyes starting to water and my throat getting tighter as the night went on. Later, we walked one of our hostel staff back to the hostel because he was so drunk he was walking into walls. He kept saying how much he wanted a kebab. Or MacDonalds. Or a Kebab! It really was too funny. (I found it a little strange that the guests were making sure the staff were getting home, instead of the other way around, but as my friends in Spain have quickly found out, I'm the mamma bear who takes care of everyone, so taking this drunken aussie back to the hostel was not abnormal for me.) Once we got there, we stayed up and ate leftovers in the kitchen for about 45 minutes and eventually, I decided to go to bed.

Christmas morning I woke up and showered. The showers at this hostel are hot and wonderful. Its been a while since I've had a hot shower with decent water pressure, so I made sure to enjoy it and really scrub my hair. Besides that, I knew no one else was waiting and hardly anyone was up, so drying my hair after my shower would have to wait a bit anyway.

We all got ready and then had to wait for the staff to be ready to take us to Mongolian BBQ, the restaurant we'd be spending the day at having a buffet and all you can drink. Why we went to a Mongolian place in Hungary, I'm not sure, but it was good food! I tried goat. It was actually quite good. I also had potato doughnuts and pasta with goat's cottage cheese. Delicious. I had some wine with lunch, but I wasn't in the mood to be slamming back drinks, so I proceeded to watch pretty well everyone else get drunk beyond reason. (in the last half hour of being there, everyone started drinking anything that was on the tables and getting really really drunk).

Toronto and I at lunch. He's so cool with his wine! haha

The staff had a Secret Santa thing, and the one guy dressed up like Santa...

The New Yorkers... and our roommates!

We moved on to the next place after 5p.m. when the Mongolian place closed. We got a little lost on the way there because the staff that was leading us was drunk. Of course. If you haven't guessed, we're staying in a party hostel. This was the suggestion of my friend (by recommendation of his friend) and I don't mind too much except that I don't drink that much and would rather not spend my money on getting drunk at night and sleeping the days away in a hostel.

The National Museum. We were going to tell people we went there, but clearly it's dark out, and clearly that would have been a lie. But the building is nice..

I ended up leaving the bar around 8p.m. and heading back to the hostel with a few of the other girls. Movies, table futbol and more movies. People slowly started to come back to the hostel in varying degrees of drunk, and would either pass out in their rooms, or join us in the common area and pass out on some sort of bean-bag chair or the couch or even the floor. I again, went to bed somewhat early in respect of everyone else. I went to bed around 1:30 because I was falling asleep.

I am hoping my friend will be up by the time I am finished writing this blog as I'd like to get the day started. Its now noon and I've had two cups of coffee, a cold potato and four cookies. I'd like a real meal and to go on a walking tour of this seemingly wonderful city!

I should also mention that I've met some interesting people here, some of which I will talk to again, many of whom I probably will not. I'll stay in touch with the Americans, and one of the Brazilians I've met. I wish them safety and happiness on the rest of their travels!!

More to come later... have a great Boxing Day!

'Tis the Season

So I know all of you have been like: Where is Bethalona? Why hasn't she been blogging? What is going on in wonderful Spain?

Well, to answer your question, I am in my apartment, there isn't much going on lately, and Spain is just getting colder and colder, so going outside isn't quite as enjoyable as it was earlier this year. That isn't to say that it's as cold as Canada, but it's cold even indoors here, so I'm bundled ALL THE TIME (for those of you who have lived with me, or know me well enough, you know that I prefer less clothing and free movement around my space. This is why I bought a space heater and slippers!)

Really I've just been spending alot of time with friends here. Yesterday three more of my very close Barcelona friends left Spain for a considerable amount of time. They are, in the near future, headed to Phuket, Thailand to discover what Thailand has to offer, swim, surf, rock climb, play futbol wherever they can and do whatever else they can possibly think of in that country. Oh yes, and they'll be teaching while they're there too. Another of my friends who was in town to visit has also left to go back to L.A. and then on to South Korea. My plans were going to be to go with her, however, given the new unpredictable leadership in North Korea, I am going to sit tight in Barcelona and see what the news brings of the young Mr. Kim. Something about a 20-year-old in power over a Stalinist country that hates Americans and South Koreans and has massive amounts of weapons, including Nuclear weapons, just doesn't really sit well with me.

So here I will stay for a time, looking for things to do, and hanging out with the other friends I know and will surely become more close to over time.

As for the Christmas season, it doesn't feel much like Christmas this year. Not many people hang lights, despite the fact that many streets in Barcelona are now shining and sparkling in the evenings with lights strung high over the heads of the people walking along. And Christmas music doesn't exist here the way it does in Canada. If I were to go shopping in Canada right now, I can guarantee you that 9 out of 10 stores I would walk into would have some sort of jolly tune playing and most of them would be playing what sounds like the exact same track, over and over again. Within an hour I would hear Jingle Bells twice, Silent Night at least four times and various versions of Do You Hear What I Hear. It is not the same here. Most stores are just continuing to play their regularly scheduled repititious tracks that they play all year long. The other thing that is missing from this Holiday Season is snow. Yes, I said it. I've said it before and I'll say it again: It is allowed to snow from December 22 to January 2 (roughly 2 weeks) and then the snow should go away again. Alas, I have opened my balcony door this morning and there is no snow. That's probably a good thing in Barcelona though, becuase the last time there was snow here was two years ago and it shut the city down. Yes, three centimeters of snow shut the city down. I laughed so hard when I heard that. I thought to myself: Canadians count their blessings when it's only three centimeters!!

Knowing ahead of time that my nearest and dearest in Spain were leaving, and that there wouldn't be any snow on the ground, I have made travel plans to see yet another country (Yes, I am aware that I still have not posted anything about the other countries. There is a reason for that which I will explain later). I am going to Budapest, Hungary this year for a few days to celebrate yet another successful year of life. I consider myself successful this year because despite the fact that I am back in debt more than I want to think about and I miss my family even more than that, I have been able to do things I only ever dreamed of this year. I made a plan, I followed it through. I got on a plane and changed my life. I looked at a path I was on and decided I didn't want to be on it. I trailblazed. I have been in Paris and sipped wine, I have been in Amsterdam and walked through the red-light district (shockingly disappointing if you ask me), and I have been in chilly Prague and seen the Lenin wall (it's now been even more defaced and is lacking in the meaningful messgages it once had spray painted across it because people have decided that their stupid slogans are funnier than the inspirations of many other people. Granted, they are right, stupid slogans are funnier than inspirations most of the time, but now the wall's meaning has been diminished in the eyes of most people. Sad, but true). I have made friends that will travel the globe and I may have opportunity to visit them again somewhere someday. And I have lived in Barcelona, Spain. I know now what it feels like to live in another country. I know what it feels like to not have all the comforts of home. Yes, we have running water, but in most places, you have to turn on the gas to have a hot shower. Stoves here are only gas, and there is no such thing as them lighting themselves. As I said earlier, everywhere you go, it's cold now. The walls are concrete and the floors are linolium so heat isn't even trapped when you do heat up a room. Slippers are a requirement. I know what it's like to miss the food at Little India on Queen Street, and to miss going for good Sushi that doesn't break the bank. I know what it's like to miss decent Peanut Butter, and to not have all the neccesary ingredients to make your favorite cookies. I know what its like to order Hot Chocolate at a restuarant and get a mug full of melted chooclate, meant for dipping your croissant or other pastry-like dessert into it. (Seriously, this happened). I know what it's like to use hand signals in almost every conversation with a non-English speaking person. I know what it's like to make fast friends and to lose them to other adventures in Turkey, Thailand, Korea, USA, China, and beyond. I know that feelings of loneliness do not last though, and as long as I am enjoying my time abroad, that is where I will be.

So I am off, in two days, to Budapest. I am meeting a friend from Canada there (someone I've worked with and wanted to get to know while we were in Canada, but it never really panned out that way). We had had plans to meet up in Paris, but circumstances didn't work out for us there. We're staying at the same hostel this time, so we'll definitely see each other this time! I am very excited to pass this holiday season in yet another country, and I will be back in Barcelona to ring in the New Year.

So to all my family and friends, near and far, I wish you the best of Holiday Seasons, a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa and whatever other holidays you celebrate! Enjoy the time you spend with family, and don't take a second of it for granted! And eat some stuffing for me, I can't make any here!

Unemployment

I can't say much for other people who are unemployed in Spain, considering that Spain's unemployment rate is actually quite tragic, however, my time of unemployment has been quite satisfying, besides the weather. The rainy season has been upon us, so besides the last few days or so, it has rained almost constantly in Barcelona. Going back to my Rain in Spain blog, you can imagine that the first few days was dreadful, but being that the entire city has literally been cleansed on an hourly basis for about 2 weeks now, the rain doesn't bring about such a strong smell of urine anymore. Besides being stuck indoors and wishing to be outdoors (or being out, wishing to be in), my time of unemployment has been good. I've written some (not for my blog, unfortunately) and I've had the time to wander aimlessly about the streets of this city, taking in all it has to offer with the various people I've become acquainted with during my time here. I know now, as do my peers, that if I enter a restaurant that serves tapas, their patatas bravas must be sampled and compared shamelessly with other restaurants'. I know that Asian/ Chinese stores have most things that dollar stores have, and that everyone calls them Chinese stores (its not racial, its factual). I know that, despite being part of Europe and having the assumed quality of certain beverages, the beer sucks, the wine generally tastes questionable if the bottle has been open for more than 2 hours and the coffee is sub-par. That being said, beer and wine are cheap, so if you can get through the first 2 glasses, you're good to go. Coffee has become less of a requirement in my life as of late, partly because of my friends, and partly because it is not nearly as readily available here as it is in North America. Maybe that's because people in Spain sleep, and take their time about things, and therefore have less of a need for the caffeinated beverage. Either way, I feel I am being welcomed to this culture whole-heartedly!

Spanish people look at you. This is something to become accustomed to in this culture, and to be fairly warned of before you expect that no one in the street will look at you. People look each other in the eyes, and more often than not, smile at each other if one person smiles first. If they don't, the stare is cold. People on the metro stare, even past the "okay, now its staring" phase. It is quite unnerving at first, and you think "Do I have something ON me? Is there food in my teeth? What is my hair doing?" When you realize its not you, its just the way they are, there is a temptation to stare back, give a dirty look, walk away or turn your back. I've done all of these. I've also smiled, though that has invited more attention, and so I've stopped doing that.

I was actually recognized by one of the men that goes around selling flowers to people in bars and restaurants after about 5pm. He was on the metro at 10 a.m. one day with a cart full of fresh roses and when he scanned the metro car, he saw me, looked past, and then did a double-take. He smiled at me and I smiled back. He offered me a flower by nodding in their direction, because he was at the opposite end of the car. I did not accept. Though some people would think it is most sweet of him to offer me a flower because he clearly recognized a familiar face from the many bars and restaurants he frequents, pedaling his wares, I know that those same people, as well as others, would see it as a mark of the "walk-of-shame", on which I was not. (For those of you who don't know what a "walk-of-shame" is, it's probably best that you keep it that way). What I can say of the events of that morning is this: only would that ever happen to me. Right.

Besides all the rain, the food, the drinks and the flowers in Barcelona, unemployment has been good, but its getting old. Which is why I've now taken up Spanish classes. Twice a week for two hours a day, I will be learning Español. Its a good thing too, because my new roommate is Colombian, and doesn't speak much English (she speaks less English than I speak Spanish, which is good for me, because we communicate mostly in Spanish then!)

Oh yes! I moved *again*. My new roommate is fantastic!! The first day I moved in, she made chicken and rice, which tasted fantastic, and left some for me. The second day, she made soup and again, made some for me. It has been a week and a half of almost every day there being food for me. I've offered her things as well, and sometimes she eats some with me and sometimes she doesn't, but the thought is there anyway. When I make peanut butter cookies again, she will get some (I say some because lets be realistic, by the time the second tray gets out of the oven, I will have already eaten most of the first.. only most because I'm not trying to get fat here.) Today we talked about how she wants English lessons, so I told her I would teach her. We also talked about how she's married.. WHAT?! Yup, ella esposo es en Colombia. How sad. They've been married 10 months and she's been here for 3 years, for work. Not sure how it all works with the math of that, but she showed me pictures of her wedding. She was beautiful! (She still is...).

I can't think of much else to say other than that I've been enjoying life here in Barcelona, and I'm now looking forward to being useful again. I think the reason I've not been blogging is because that is the only thing I've had to procrastinate. It's difficult to use blogging to distract myself from unwanted homework when it is the only thing I should be doing. I expect this pattern to change in the coming weeks.

Stay tuned for my holiday travel plans, as it has become apparent that I am definitely not coming to Canada.. Where will I go: Madrid, Venice, Rome, Brussels? Who knows?

The Language Barrier

I have been in Spain now for 2 months. Up until this point, I haven’t had too much trouble communicating with anyone in Spain. I haven’t needed anything so badly that I couldn’t ask for it or signal or make sounds or show in some other way what I needed. However, today is a different story.

My landlady is a … special lady. Yes, we’ll call her special because that is politically correct. She’s not short-bus special, no, no. She’s just special.

First off, when I wanted to come see the place, we arranged a time through my friend because he speaks fluent Spanish and I couldn’t understand this woman for the life of me. Please understand, I had already emailed this person with my name, and was now calling with my name. When we came to see the place, everything seemed normal, the room was clean, the bathroom looked decent (must have been that the toilet seat was down). The biggest selling point is that the place is about 10 minutes walk down the road from my very favourite (straight) boys in Spain. The only thing that struck me as odd when I came to see the place, was that she asked me my name. Okay, whatever.

I came to move into the place on Saturday, almost a week ago. The woman told me, in Spanish, that she would have keys for me on Monday. Needless to say, I didn’t leave all of my stuff there, and returned on Monday with the rest of my belongings to collect my key. Oh yes, she also asked me my name again. Twice. And then she wrote it down.

Now, I’ve been living here a few days and have noticed that this woman appears to like to conserve water. I say that because it appears that she is inconsistent when it comes to flushing the toilet. (I am not). It also appears that the water used to clean the floors has not been changed in a little while. Ew. (I now wear slippers that she lent me, with socks, everywhere in my apartment).

The biggest issue I am having at the moment though, and this may sound strange until I explain it, is that there is no internet. Yes, even more so than the gross bathroom (and I won’t even talk about the state of the kitchen the other day; I don’t cook here, I have PB and bread in my room and I eat elsewhere) I cannot stand that there is no internet. I specifically had my friend ask this woman if the 250 euros/ month included internet and she said “Si.”

Now, you may be wondering, as am I, what happened to the internet if she was supposed to have it. This is where the language barrier comes in. Until now, we’ve had short conversations, during which she has insisted that everything is “cerca”. Solo diez metro, cerca, cerca. La biblioteca, cerca, la picina, cerca. Great. Everything is close. (She was also trying to tell me to get a job as an admin assistant somewhere down the street that is “cerca” and didn’t understand that not having papers, means you can’t actually work for a government regulated office as an administrative assistant.).

So the other day, I asked her for the “informacion para la internet, por favour”. She said something in Spanish that I understood as her having to get the code from someone and she would get it soon. … Okay. But I asked before I even lived here, wouldn’t you have thought that maybe you should have already had this? One more day of going to the school to use their internet on their crappy slow computers because my laptop doesn’t get a good enough signal from their internet to actually use it. And one more day of not being able to skype my family because the school computers don’t have webcams.

So today she says to me that the library (which is “cerca, cerca”) has free internet. Everyone uses it. … Pardon. Why are you telling me that? Don’t you have the internet? So I ask her “Pero, no internet here?” “La biblioteca esta cerca, cerca. Internet gratis. Todos gratis.” “Pero, no internet HERE?” (at this point I am signalling the apartment, pointing at the room, trying not to raise my voice.) She said something that I understood as this isn’t her apartment and the building is getting internet. “Dos a tres semanes”. “Perdon? Semanes? Weeks? 2-3 WEEKS?” This she did not understand, but instead repeated that it isn’t her apartment. “Pero, no internet here, por dos a tres SEMANES?” “Si, la biblioteca cerca. Todos internet.”

Have you ever been so frustrated with a person that all you can do is stand there and stare at them because you know if you open your mouth, you’ll say things that would have gotten your mouth washed out with soap if you had ever even thought them as a child?  

So I stared at this woman for a moment, and she started going off again about how everything is cerca. Diez metro. Cerca.

I turned and walked into my room in the least rude way I could possibly do so. So now I sit here, writing a blog I cannot post because I do not have internet (but I could go to the library and post it!) trying to calm myself down so that I don’t go out there and yell things at this woman in a language she doesn’t understand. I can’t even look up how to say what I want to say (which is that I want money back if there is no internet) because I don’t have an internet connection with which to look up how to say it.

Needless to say, I’m in need of a run today. A nice long one.

Also:

Dear family,

I miss you. I’ll skype again from my friend’s house when I can.

Love,

Bethalona

Missing People

Have you ever been somewhere random, like in another town or country, or on vacation somewhere and seen someone you know? Or thought you saw someone you know? Or saw someone that for a split second looked like someone from back home?

I’ve been seeing people from the minute I stepped off the plane that look like people from back home. It’s getting a little irritating. For that split second that you’re standing there, on the street or in the market, you see that person our of the corner of your eye and you think “Oh my God, it’s …” And then the second is over and you realize that the person is too tall to be so-and-so or too plump to be him or the hair is too big to be her (she would never let it get out of control like that).

These tiny moments throughout your days, weeks, and months start to build up when you’re away. I’ve been seeing people for months now, like I said, and it’s that tiny hope of home; someone you recognize; someone who knew you before you were here, that starts to eat at you. At first its just tiny bits of disappointment and you think: “Of course that’s not her, she wouldn’t be in Spain, and if she were, she would have called me!” or “He would never been in a dirt-bag bar like this, he’s way too classy for that” (that one is for Joe at CB, I swore I thought I saw you in a bar off La Rambla!)

It is never the overly familiar people that you think you see, it is always someone slightly removed or someone that is an acquaintance; someone you met at a dinner party, or worked with years ago but haven’t stayed in contact with. I think that almost makes it worse. Its not the people you hope to see. It’s never Jenn or Carrie or Eric or Kyle. It’s not your Aunt Chris or your cousin Ashley. It’s someone you could give or take. Not that you don’t care to see anyone, just that you would care more to see certain people over others. It’s never, never close family. Maybe a distant relative, like a great uncle John or great Aunt Erma (yes, I have a great Aunt Erma- and I wish she’d learn to race the food at Christmas).

These moments build up day by day and make you continuously realize that you’re not home. You’re not going to run into Debbie and Patricia from work, or watch a game with Chris and the guys. You’re not going to see Marcel walking through your other friend’s neighbourhood one day and run out of Shopper’s to stop him on the street and give him a big hug! You won’t drive over to your sister’s house and play with her kids and make cookies. Mom isn’t standing out on the back porch petting the cat, and dad isn’t coming home from work to BBQ some delicious steak for you.

These are the thoughts that have started to eat little happy moments of walking along the street and seeing someone you think you recognize. They start to nudge you into missing people you were hoping not to start missing because you have access to them through the wonderful thing called the Internet. (What did people used to do before email, skype, facebook, twitter, photobucket, BBM, Whatsapp etc etc etc?).

The reason I am thinking this way today is because I have been unable to skype with my family for over a week. It’s been a week and 3 days since I’ve talked to any member of my immediate family using my voice, and it's making me miss them even more. I am looking forward to getting internet connection soon and making up for lost time by chatting away with them. Tonight however, I will have to keep it short. I hope Mackenzie made cookies she can show me!