La Mercé

Esta fin de semana es La Mercé, una fiesta anual que occure aquí en Barcelona. Hay conciertos, fuegos artificiales, y mucha gente por todas partes. Es más, el metro esta abierto todo el día y la noche, lo que a mi me encanta, porque no tengo que preocuparme por como voy a regresar a casa.

Bueno, de todos modos, anoche salí con mi amiga de Salamance, se llama Rocio. Ella es muy maja, muy buena persona, y es fácil para nosotros pasar medio día hablando y tomando café y cerveza. Anoche empezemos en el Barrio Gracia y luego dirigimos nuestros pasos hacia la plaça Cataluna, parandonos varios vezes para tomar una cerveza en bares que estaban en camino. Una cosa de que estoy muy emocionado es que por fin encontre un restaurante/bar que esta en las Ramblas que tiene buenos precios. No se cómo se llama, pero pudimos comprar Bocadillos deliciosos por solo 2.80 euros - y tenedlo en cuenta que estabamos al lado de las Ramblas, lo que tiene los precios mas inflados de toda la ciudad (por los turistas, claro).

Bueno, mas tarde, fuimos a varios bares tranquilos/hippies que tenian gente mas or menos alternativo. En uno, todos estaban fumando porras y habia un portero para vigilar para que si los policías llegaran, él podría informar a todos y también no dejarlos entrar.

Todo fue una noche mas o menos normal. Rocio todavía tenía ganas festejar mas.... a las 3, pero yo ya estaba bien cansado. Y por eso decidimos dejarlo por la noche.

Catalonian Nationalism and the MACBA

Last night, while out on a date with a nice Catalonian nurse boy, Marc, I got my first true taste of the Catalonian nationalist spirit. We went to MACBA (Contemp. art museum) and had been checking out the various exhibits it had to offer. I really enjoyed a lot of it. On the other hand, Marc spent half the time saying that his 4-year-old cousin could have done a better equal or better execution of the modern and post-modern art that inhabited the museum. It frankly got irritating that he could not stop and ask himself that maybe it's not all about the execution of the work, but also the concept. I tried to explain it to him, but he wasn't satisfied.

This was his reaction to pretty much everything we say, save on big exception. There was a giant Spanish flag in part of a vaguely anti-Nazi/Franco art installation. When he saw it, he refused to go into the room it was in. He became someone irate over the fact that a Catalonian museum would even dare put up a Spanish flag. I argued that it wasn't about how magnificent Spain was, instead it was about hypocrisy and the backwardness of the Spanish history. He protested that it doesn't matter what it means. It's simply disrespectful and insulting to put up such a flag. We argued for a while about the responsibilities of an art museum to its surroundings. He still plans on telling everyone he knows to complain about the exhibit. I think Catalonian Nationalists probably have better things to do.... but maybe not. I didn't realize how serious people took their nationalism. Some people, like Marc, don't even consider Catalonia to be a part of Spain, and they resent everything that represents Spain that has infiltrated the border - like flamenco, gazpacho, y bull fighting.

Barcelona walks!

I've noticed here in Barcelona that the people have a different style of walking than americans. In my quest to not look like a foreigner, and thus enjoy the many benifits of blending in (like not getting pick-pocketed or have people speak english to me), I've been trying to pin-point what all spainiards share in common that makes then look local. There is definetly the spanish set of genes that I will never have. Then there is the clothing, which is definetly part of it. I can already quite quickly discertain americans, brits, and germans from Spaniards just by clothing. But I feel like there is more than just outside appearance, and I'm pretty sure the walking style is distict here. People seem to have more a stroll - where the feet come casually forward, infront of the body, for each step. This is different from the american walk, where, more frequently, the head bends forward over the farthest front-point of each step. I think it also might have to so with the pace as well. I still have to figure that one out.

I still expect that at some point over this 5 months that I'll be pickpocketed. Everyone tells me that it happens to all foriegners. But if I'm vigilant AND I blend in, maybe then I can avoid a robo.

My Living Room

This is the living room of the apt I live in the "Barrio Sants" in Barcelona. There was quite a little wind storm yesterday, so I felt moved to use my new camera to capture the magic.

You may notice Emilio, my host "dad," has a very grandma-esque style of interior decoration. The fake flowers really top it off.