All Things Food

My God, French food is amazing. I was headed toward Arc de Triomph, walking down the Champs-Elysees and I got so distracted by all the little kiosks that were set up along the street for Christmas.

It just so happens that I hadn't eaten lunch yet and being that crepes are a French food, and one of my personal favorites, I couldn't resist stopping at one of the kiosks for some.

I had a crepe salée. It was ham and cheese, a classic. So delicious. I sat down to eat it on a bench in the Tuileries Park.

After I finished that, I kept walking down the Champs-Elysees, continuing toward Arc de Triomph when something else caught my eye. It was red wine, but heated! Yes, hot red wine! It was a sweeter wine and so yummy.

At the same place that I got the wine, there were these cookie-like things (they actually look like mini burgers when they don't have bites taken out of them). I think they were called macaroons (but they are different than the Jew macaroon with coconut). The one I had was pistacchio flavored. Tasted like nothing I had ever had before with a rough outside and very sweet, tacky center. Also, please note my 3 euro gloves that I had to buy on the first day I was in Paris so that my hands wouldn't freeze.

Tonight I went out to dinner with my friend Sophie who is back at home in Paris for Christmas with her family. She took me to a restaurant called Les Fondus de la Raclette. I had a Raclette. The meal was served on a cutting board and it was red meat, cheese, ham, and potatoes. Then they gave us different dips and mini frying pans to melt the cheese and cook the meat right there on the table. It was very rich, and it's probably a good thing I don't live in Paris because I would want to eat it every night.

Okay well, it's 1am and time for me to go to bed. I leave Paris tomorrow. Back to real life in Barcelona for a few days, the grind of writing papers, and paying my rent. That's when you know a place is truly feels like home, when it feels nice to come back to after a vacation but it also means real life, no fantasies.

I have loved Paris. So much. Yet, I'm happy to say that Barcelona is my "real" life.

Happy Birthday Gram

Pont Alexandre III

Thought of you when I took this.

From this point you can see both the Eiffel Tower and Arc de Triomph at the same time.

An American in Paris

Paris, my camera loves you.


...And so do I

Last night I was poised and motivated (okay maybe not so much the latter) to finish my paper on La Casa de Bernarda Alba. But I am in Paris. Could I have managed to give myself any more of a distraction? I don't think so. Nonetheless, around 11pm my friend Phil (a friend I met through another friend) texted me to see if I wanted to get a drink. Of course I did. So we headed toward the city center to this very cozy, hole-in-wall bar. Strictly locals. We were the only ones speaking English. Anyway, we talked about what it's like being a poor American student in Europe, him telling me how he bought his refrigerator for his Paris apartment (and the dolly that he used to transport it) off Craig's List and then how had to take it on the metro to get it home. I told him about how I never eat out and basically live on vegetables and the occasional slice of jamón ibérico. You know you're a poor student when your dinner consists of bananas, yogurt, and beer....and you're okay with that. We talked about what it's like for him to study saxophone in Paris, the difficulty and the fun of learning new languages, studying abroad in general, rude Europeans, the Parisian girl whose ass was fighting with my own for space (it was basically WWIII, The Battle of the Buttocks)...

Today I went to Versailles with my roommate here in the hostel. Her name is Lana and she is studying in Frankfurt, Germany but is originally from Ukraine. We had such a fun time hanging out together and were very compatible travel partners. Versailles was so majestic with the massive palace looming over us, the gold trim challenging the ominous cloudy sky. It was as though the palace was saying, "Even if you decide to rain on me, I will still shine." We should all have such self-esteem.

I will put up more pictures later. Right now I am going to work on my paper. For real. No distractions. But geez, Paris, you really could not knock my focus any more than you do...
Oh how I want to be on the Pont Alexandre III right now, looking out over the Siene and at the Eiffel Tower. Tomorrow...

Merry Christmas

Greetings from Paris!

I am exhausted right now from only having two hours of sleep last night. Nonetheless, I had a wonderful Christmas Eve with some friends in Barcelona. We ate great food and enjoyed each other's company. It was beautiful; I love when you create your own fun.

I am in the lobby of the Vintage hostel, taking advantage of the free WIFI they offer. Paris is about 40 degrees, with a crisp breeze. I visited Place de Vosgues and walked along the Rue de Bastille today. Place de Vosgues was like the Madeline illustrations come to life, I was so excited to see that Paris is really covered with vines (sometimes).

Okay this isn't a real update. I just wanted to write something from Paris on Christmas.

Before I peace out though, here's a little anecdote so you can feel aquainted with the French...

I went into a convenience store to buy some water. In French (of course) the man told me that the price was 1 euro. I then responded in English, "I don't speak French." He laughed and said in English, "Well I don't speak English... But you should speak French." That's when I offered, "castellano?" Smiling as though he understood everything he gushed out, "ohhh you're Spanish!" Instead of trying to explain myself to this shopkeeper, trying to explain the fact that I am not Spanish but an American living in Catalunya who speaks Spanish, I settled for a simple, "sí." That seemed to make him happy because we talked for a brief moment about the rivalry between Madrid and Barcelona, he communicating with his broken English and me responding to him in Spanish. I told him that I didn't like Madrid as much as Barcelona, that I felt more connected to Barcelona. This guy must have known something about the situation between the two provinces and the bilingualism that characterizes Barcelona because he understood me when I started talking to him in Catalán. If anyone has pride in their language, it's the French.

Anywho, that short conversation ended in Catalán from me, with a simple "molt bé, adéu," and
"au revoir" from him.

Merry Christmas to my friends and family around the world. Know that someone in Paris is thinking about you.

Food, Christmas Eve, Paris

Oh my gosh. I bought the best baguette from Consum. When I grabbed it from the basket it was still warm. I ran home and immediately cut it up to make the most amazing peanut butter-jelly-banana sandwich of my life. I love trying new foods, but I never tire of the kiddie classic PBJ. Natural peanut butter, warm baguette, fig jam and perfectly ripe banana is truly what heaven tastes like.

I had to go to the grocery store to stock up on some food since nothing will be open tomorrow in Paris. I felt so Spanish buying jamón ibérico (I never buy ham, but since it's Christmas I went for the top notch national emblem of Spain), three different types of cheese, wine, and a baguette. Tonight I'm going to a Christmas Eve gathering with friends. I'll bring the wine, cube the cheese, and slice up some Fuet. Fuet is this catalán sausage thing. I don't know how to describe it really, but it's so good.

Anywho, my friends live near Sagrada Familia and I think I want to walk there, but not if it's still raining. It's been raining on and off all day, and my laundry is dominating my room, hanging on whatever I could find that would hold it so it could get semi-dry (the doors of the armarios in my room are currently doing the majority of the work). I'll probably end up packing some damp clothes in my suitcase for Paris.

Okay, time to stop distracting myself from my life.

See you in Paris, and Merry Christmas (Eve).

In the Library on a Rainy Day

I am in the library at the facultad writing my essay on Lorca's La casa de Bernarda Alba. I wish it would just write itself, as I have no motivation to do it. At least I am sitting in front of a big window and I can look outside and see the Coca-Cola building that overlooks Plaça Universitat on the Gran Via de les Corts Catalanes. There aren't a lot of people in here in the library, or at the faculty, because mostly everyone has cleared out for the holidays. I hear the rain gently falling outside, and it would be completely peaceful if it wasn't for the ambulances that parade down the Gran Via every few hours. Oh, the woes of living in a metropolis.

Nonetheless, I like just hanging around Barcelona when I have nothing to do (except that I have a lot to do in terms of essays and reading). It's been around 37 degrees and rainy here. The chill snaps you in the ass when you're walking, you're hands are constantly wet from holding your damn umbrella, and my apartment is so chilly that I have to pile on layers of clothes and stand by the stove every now and then to reignite some of my own body heat. All the same, I enjoy it. I'll be in France in a few days where I'll experience the type of cold that I'm supposed to be "used to" from living in Illinois. Well let me tell you something, being cold is never something that you ever really get "used to," but it's something that you get better at handling, I suppose. Anyway, back to the essay... That is, if I can focus.

Right now I just want to see Paris under the snow.

Cuquina

Yesterday I spent 20 minutes of my life cleaning dog shit from the bottom of my shoe. Thank you, Cuquina, for giving me such a wonderful Christmas present. We all give gifts within our own capacities and it's always nice to know when someone is thinking of you.

(My camera makes it look like Cuquina is a ghost dog. See how her tail is disappearing?)

Cuquina is a stylin' pooch. As you can see she wears sweaters to keep her warm in the winter. I'd say she is better dressed than some people. All of her sweaters look like something that you could buy for yourself or your small child from Zara. For those of you that do not know, Zara is a Spanish brand clothing store. Perhaps Cuquina could be their muse for an entirely new canine line. I think the line would be quite popular here in Spain where people are so dog-crazy. Marlene told me that she spent 50 euros on one of Cuquina's outfits. "Wow," I thought. I know the sweater is quite unique with it's embroidered image of Snoopy and Woodstock, but I don't know if I'd spend 50 euros on it. Then again, Marlene doesn't have children, so she has to spoil someone I suppose.

I have a ton of things going on this break. Lots of traveling and my friend Grace is visiting me. Thus, I am aiming to finish all my homework (which consists of writing two 8 page essays and reading 2 novels) before I leave for Paris. Naturally, I am hard at work on those things right now, as I'm updating my blog. I think I can finish them though. I'm not so worried about reading the novels, as I can attack those on the planes, but I MUST write those essays. I think I'm going to bring my laptop with me to Paris, so maybe I'll update this blog when I'm there too.

Okay, it's time to read the final act in Lorca's La Casa de Bernarda Alba. I probably will come back to my computer and make another blog update, as I can only focus so much at a time. Blogging is always a fun excuse to stop whatever you're doing, pausing your life so that you can take a step back and write about it. Whether you're admiring the outdoor Christmas markets all over Barcelona or the beautiful lights that adorn the city, or whether you're scorning the dog shit that has found a home on the bottom of your Birkenstock clogs, it's all worth noting. It's all part of understanding. And sometimes, you just need to stop to understand.

Snowflakes and Christmas Trees

Not sure if it feels like it, but it sure looks a lot like Christmas in these parts.


Both photos were taken in Sevilla. The first photo is actually the wall of the Spanish department store, The Corte Inglés. It was so pretty being all decorated for Christmas. The Corte Inglés has every department imginable on the planet (if you cannot find what you need here, it does not exist in Spain. Seriously.) and they are located all over the country. The store is pretty much the only thing that the Spanish people can agree on. People that live here don't all agree on speaking Spanish, nor do they agree on politics (to be expected since very essence of politics is to argue), and Cataluña and País Vasco want to separate from the country entirely. Yet, everyone has The Corte Inglés membership card in his or her wallet. So if Spanish patriotism exists at all it's derived from the presence of The Corte Inglés. Thus, in addition to offering overpriced designer clothes and chic kitchenware (I could spend hours just looking at the different colored frying pans), The Corte Inglés serves a crucial social function for the country.

The second photo is self explanitory. Christmas trees are pretty universal, if you celebrate Christmas, that is. I love Christmas...

...and eating ham.

I am such a good Jew.

Serious Webcam Portraits

I dare you to take me seriously. I've got on a serious face and am holding a serious lollypop to match. Please see the prototype of being serious in the photo below.

That's right, it's down to business now...

How many licks does it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop?

The world will never know...

Sevilla Cows and Muddled Meditations

Right now my life is a jumble of fresh laundry that I still need to hang on the clothesline outside the window, cleaning products, old metro tickets and maps, lemons and honey for my "té de manzanilla," tissues (I'm a bit under the weather right now), candles, unread novels (including the beaten copy of The Pillars of the Earth that I pilfered from the hostel in Sevilla), the linguistics homework that I still need to finish, scattered thoughts about visiting Paris for Christmas and daydreams of touring Budapest and Vienna in January.

The picture above is another one from Sevilla. They had this whole area dedicated to selling these little figuritas. I was partial to the cows.

In Plaza España, Sevilla

Flamenco

I love the rawness of these images. You get the initmate feeling that was this performance. All 200 of us had to be completely silent so that we could hear the music and tapping. There was no microphone.

Escape to Andalucía

I didn't expect to be too wowed by Sevilla. And then I got there.

The red buildings with yellow trim, horse carriages, castle-like buildings, enormous parks full of green, cool temperatures, small town feeling, friendly Andalusians, and flamenco changed my mind. Even the hostel that I stayed at was fun. I met some really great people and we ended up hanging out together throughout our stay in Sevilla.

The first night I spent in the hostel a group of Chinese girls were cooking a big pot of noodle soup for their group of eight people. They offered me a bowl of soup since they made so much. I was so grateful because I hadn't yet eaten dinner and wasn't sure what I was going to eat since all the supermarkets had already closed for the night and I wasn't in the mood for some fried tapas. Though a bit picante, the soup was delicious. It was probably the most "real" Chinese food I have ever eaten. Go figure, I had to go to the south of Spain to eat it.

That same night I chatted with a group of six students studying in Madrid. Little did I know that they'd adopt me into their little clan and we'd explore Sevilla together. After chatting with them the night before, I spontaneously ran into the group the next day at the Alcázar (one of Sevilla's old castle buildings that was built by the Arabs way back when). They offered me to hang out with them for the rest of the day. And so I did. I loved it.

Our group was two Brazilians, two Germans, one Italian, one Frenchie, and your fellow United States-ian.

Us in the Alcázar.

We enjoyed each other's company. That same night we ended up going to La Carboneria, a bar located deep within the labyrinth that is Sevilla. La Carboneria is basically the only place that has free flamenco. So, being the poor students that we are, we arrived there at 9:oopm for the show that would start at 11:00pm. The place filled up and was jammed with humanity by the time the show started. It was smokey, crowded, and so worth it.

Sometimes, though, the simplest things are the most fun. My favorite thing we did was when we sat on the riverbank of the Guadalquivir (the longest river in Andalucía), eating sweets and enjoying the view. Viktor bought the sweets from the nuns that were selling them at the Alcázar. A bit random, you think? Yes, absolutely. Apparently every year around Christmastime nuns from all around Europe bake a bunch of candy and sweets and sell them at the Alcázar. Lucky us, we were there to buy them. The sweets were unusual and very good. One of them was simply an egg yoke with sugar added. It was ecstasy.

Other things we did (in no particular order):

- Walked through Parque Maria Luisa - a very beautiful park with tons of paths, foliage, and horse crap. Hostia, cuídate por la mierda de caballo.

- Talked.

-Took pictures.

-Visited the Plaza de Toros.

-Ate falafel and kebabs for lunch.

-Visited Plaza de España.

-Polished off the candy that was in Lucy's backpack. She says she always brings candy with her so that she can have something sweet after every meal.
-Drank the "Agua de Sevilla" as if it were really water...

If only my new friends were studying in Barcelona instead of Madrid. Oh well, I now have six reasons to go back to the capital city...

Sevilla, que maravilla.

Sevilla, you were so beautiful. I'm so glad that we got to know each other.

The more men I meet in life...

...the more I love my dogs.

Typical Sunday Afternoon in the Plaza...

I'm sure this dog inhabits a bigger living space than some of the people in my study abroad program. He probably eats better food too.

The people here appeal to me just as much as the dog does. The man with the dog on his lap reminds me of one of my parents' friends, Dr. Welke.

On the Street... in l'Eixample

White on Black

"We never match, but always complement each other..." -the dog

I love how this ball of fluff is so white that he glows.

On the street...

I did a photoshoot of Barcelones dogs. Yes, I went there. These dogs have just as much personality as their owners, if not more. Thus, I dedicate the next few posts to these Catalán canines.

This one let me pet him. He was sweet, but he smelled very...European.

Always buckle up children, one sudden turn and you could end up like Pooh...

I took this on Sunday when I was walking home from the market. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

In other news, the refrigerator in our apartment is broken. This means all my food spoiled and I've been living on PB&J and cereal for the past day and a half. Please note that I must eat the cereal sans milk, so it's been quite a crunchy experience to say the least. I would have bought some food yesterday but it was Sunday and, as you know, Spain shuts down every Sunday for the majority of the people. Though, I suppose if you're name is Moses or Pilar, you could get a store to open up for you. Unfortunately, my name's Jackie and I'm a peon. But that's okay, peons have more fun because they have less responsibility.

Anyway, every time I make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich one of my roommates looks at me like I'm crazy. "And what is that?" he asks me. I just tell him that it's an American delicacy and if he's lucky, maybe one day I'll make him one. Today after class I am going to buy some fruit and vegetables so I don't feel like such a carb.

And the last bit of news I have is that this weekend I'm going to Sevilla! I am going to try to visit Córdoba and Cádiz as well because they are only about 45 minutes away by train. Hooray for visiting the south of Spain! It's the Spain that Hemingway wrote so much about and I really can't wait to see it.

I always keep The Sun Also Rises close to my heart. I want to read it again, but in castellano. What a nerd.

In a Park near Plaza Lesseps

Mercat de San Antoni

Every Sunday local Barceloneses flock to the Mercat de San Antoni where they sell heaps of used books, music, DVDs, action figures, trading cards, post cards, old newspapers, comic books, etc. It's always an experience going there because there are so many people in the market that you get "violated" from every direction. Every where you go is a bottleneck, but you can find some really neat things if you have the patience for it.

I got two old photographs at the market today. On the back of each tells a little story about them. The girl in the dress was taken in Paris and the dress was designed for the model by Jacques Heim in 1967. The other photo is of a rehearsal for the Queen's arrival in Nigeria in 1956.

Can you see Federico Garcia Lorca's La Casa de Bernarda Alba? Yeah, I have to read that for class.

Happy Thanksgiving from Cataluña

Thanksgiving dinner tonight at a hotel on Passeig de Gracia.
Major SWANK factor.
Gratis.
AND, I don't have to cook.

I am thankful.

On being a loner...

Marc Johns, Serious Drawings

Yo no pinto lo que veo, pinto lo que pienso

Never take yourself too seriously. You spend too much money when you do.

Haircut at La Pelu: 31 euros
But really, it's because I have long hair. At least that's what I tell myself. I mean, if I had shorter hair it would have been a good 5 euros cheaper (the guy even told me so). And, I sprung for the wash because what fun is going to the hairdresser if they don't even wash your hair for you? Exactly. Get it washed. Would I like the hairdresser to blow dry my hair for 10 euros? No thanks. I'd rather leave the salon looking like a well-trimmed mop with 10 euros in my wallet to spend on jellybeans afterward.

Hairdressers here do what they want. That is, they cut however much off they want, give you bangs, layers, whatever they feel like. Is it odd that I have to pay more to ensure that they cut off less? I was going to go to this peluquería on my street that cuts hair for 8 euros, but when I looked inside all I saw were three old ladies with barely any hair left to cut off in the first place. Something told me that that place was a no-go, or maybe I just felt I was better than that. See what I mean about taking yourself too seriously? But in reality, I have more hair than the average 2o year old, not to mention old Señora Poblet down the street who only can eat jello and uses a magnifying glass to watch Law and Order dubbed in Catalán.

Anywho, long story short is I got a haircut and I survived. The salon was in a shady part of town, but I felt comfortable in it and the lady did a good job. Thirty-one euros later, I left.

Jelly Belly Jellybeans: value undisclosed because an embarassingly high amount of euros were spent on this fixation

I had such a good time standing in the candy store for 5 minutes sorting through all the flavors and picking out the ones I wanted. When I read the amount on the cash register my heart skipped a beat. This register has to be broken. Oh, I guess it did say four euros/ 100 grams. Shit. It's real. I am actually handing her the money. So this is what being addicted to drugs is like.

But they are Jelly Belly! You know they're your favorite. Okay, so just throw the receipt in the trash when you get home so you don't have to remind myself how much you spent on candy that imitates the tastes foods you could eat in real life if you actually wanted them. Nevermind, jellybeans are amazing.

Moleskine: 10 euros

So I have a new friend. His name is Mr. Moleskine. You know, those little journals that come in all different kinds that Ernest Hemingway used? Yeah, I have one. I bought one because I wanted a pocket-sized journal without lines. I feel too restricted by lined paper. It's not like my thoughts are as organized as lined paper, emerging from one direction of my brain in a straight line until they reach the other side. So why should I have to cage them in even more by forcing them in between the lines on paper? Thoughts become diluted enough by the arbitrary words of language, so I'd rather not filter mine anymore than needed. Shoving them into the straight lines on paper (which was most likely printed in communist China where everything is "equal" anyway) would sand down their nuances until they became flat and bland, devaluing their overall validity. So really, I needed Mr. Moleskine.

But are my thoughts really that important? The easy answer is no. Apparently, I value them at 10 euros. If I didn't take myself so seriously I'd just write them on my hand so I could wash them away at night and reuse the surface the next day.

Okay so I found this great book and it inspired me to start drawing again. Nothing too serious. I don't draw that great, but I forgot how much I always enjoyed doing it. Also, remember my seashells that I collected from Ocata? I found a little bowl for them and they sit prettily on my desk in all their glory. On that pencil it reads, "Yo no pinto lo que veo, pinto lo que pienso." (I don't paint what I see, I paint what I think). I thought it was nifty.

Okay, that is all. For now.

These are two girls from our group when we were waiting outside the restaurant in Fuendetodos. They might freak out if they visit my blog and see a photo of themselves posted. Though, I couldn't not share it with you because rarely do you get a chance like this where everything is so perfect and you don't even have to work the frame to make it look good. It just is good, naturally.

Haunting Comfort

More of Aragón

That's Professor Cardona. He's a character.

I love the way the tree framed this church. We made a pit stop in this town when we were driving around in the bus.

Though in the middle of Aragón, this town had Sevilla style buildings. That tree is such an amazing color, it matches the building. Okay, I know I like trees.

This is Pablo. He saw me taking photos and then I asked him for his. He was happy to pose for me, though he looks very serious here. After I took the photo he made sure that I included the cane. Pablo, I hope I am as proud as you when I am your age.

That symbol on the building is a symbol of La Falange, the Fascist party of the day. It has since been requested to have that symbol removed from the building, but seeing as how there are still many fervent Fascists in Spain, they threatened to destroy the entire building if it was removed. Thus, the symbol stands. A black knick on a pristine surface.

Okay, this picture is just hilarious. It is Professor Cardona knocking nuts out of a tree with a big stick while his wife bends down to pick them up. Pilar later joined them, gathering the nuts from the ground. It was truly a sight, watching them all scamper like squirrels to gather these nuts...

Aragón

Welcome to Fuendetodos.

Population: 83

Autonomous Region: Aragón

Famous For: Goya birthplace and home

It was such a picturesque little town, Fuendetodos! Windmills, weathered walls, gorgeous skies and old stone buildings with little kids playing fútbol in the streets at night.

Had such good photos of the fútbol game, but they all got deleted. Sigh. But that's okay becaus the next day we visited Belchite, a little town near Fuendetodos. We walked through old civil war ruins.

Photos aren't as clear as I'd like. Didn't feel like lugging the big Rebel around with me. The desolate beauty of the ruins are, however, undeniable, no matter what camera you use.

The clouds were gorgeous for shooting that day. The greyish, periwinkle sky created a somber feeling. That feeling lingers still lingers in Spain, residual from four years of civil war and forty more of Franco.

I love the blue on the walls here...

More photos to come this evening, hopefully. Right now I have to go to class.

Adeu!

Sick, Studying and Peacocks

Wow, I have wanted to update this forever. Then I went to Zaragoza with the program. I ate the food there, and came back sick. I slept all day, and still was able to sleep the entire next night. Monday (yesterday), I went to class where I started to freak out about my pending midterms this week. Last night, still no appetite. Queue the yogurt!

I have no groceries. If I don't go buy something now I will have to live off raisins and peanut butter. It's a nice snack but it hardly qualifies as true sustenance. After some quick groceries (I don't feel like buying them all right now, only the basic of the basic), I must study linguistics. English linguistics can be tough, [i la lin'ɣwistika espa'ɲola 'pweɗe 'ser a'un 'mas di'fiӨil]. Not to mention that I have to prepare my essay for my history midterm, which is tomorrow as well. I wish I had time for a real update, I have some neat pictures to share with you all.

In the meantime, enjoy this photo of Carlos the peacock. We met him in Madrid in the Park de Buen Retiro. I decided he should be called Carlos.