Right then, home sickness has kicked in this last week or so, prompted by the knowledge of many people making their way back to Durham and settling into houses or college rooms, ready for term to start. I knew this time would come - the day when denial would be futile and the reality of my absence from Durham would truly set in. And it's just as sad as I knew it would be too. But, once again, I should be spending less time feeling sorry for myself and more time concentrating on being grateful for the experiences I'm having under the guise of academic pursuit. And luckily this weekend has provided an EXCELLENT distraction.
Barcelona. Barcelona, Barcelona, Barcelona. Where do I begin?
Actually, first of all I'd like to quickly tell you about a little bit of teaching experience I got on Wednesday. I arrived at Sheryl's language school in Figueres in the afternoon, expecting to do a bit of observation and to maybe provide a source of conversation practice for her students, but nothing more than that. Next thing I know, I'm sat in a room with a pile of textbooks trying to get my head around the fact that I'm suddenly taking two classes in T-minus 20 minutes. It was surreal, but the spontaneity didn't allow time for nerves or over-analyzing on my part, which was probably a good thing. I put on my best 'I'm a teacher and therefore I demand respect but also I'm friendly so let's be friends too' face and practiced a few words on the chalkboard. The kids came, I taught them some English, they laughed at my accent and we all had a bloody great time. It was very encouraging and exciting. Bring on next Monday and the official start of my teaching placement. I've got my game face practiced and ready.
Now, back to Barca. I jumped on a train from Llanca late Friday afternoon and arrived in Barcelona two and half hours later to find a familiar smiling face waiting to meet me at the station. The lovely Yoanne, the girl who has kept me sane during Russian classes and joined me in my apparent quest to come as close to failing the Russian language module as possible without actually doing so. She's been in Barcelona all summer working for a lettings agent and we managed to arrange for me to go stay. Hoorah. Completely coincidentally, we happened to pick the weekend of La Festa Merce which is a yearly festival in Barcelona to honour the patron saint of city and celebrate all things Catalan. And, let me tell you, it was flipping brilliant.
There's a lot to tell, so I'm going to opt for a brief day by day run-down (no promises on the 'brief' part though if I'm honest).
Friday
When I arrived in Barcelona I was already knackered after a late (but great) night out in Girona with Beth on Thursday but, after dinner of fajitas we wasted no time in heading out on the town. No rest for the sangria-fuelled. We started off in the Placa Catalunya where there was a band playing traditional Catalan music and we saw Els Gegants, which are these mahusive giant figures made of papier-mache. They're paraded through the crowd as traditional music plays. It was just as surreal as it sounds! We then moved on to Placa Catalunya where there was a Spanish rock band and I had my first experience of the beer men - guys who wander through the crowds selling cans of beer for a euro. If you look like an obvious tourist, they hike it up to one euro fifty. It was fun watching them get their hopes up with an easy looking target such as myself (being blonde in Spain and all). 1 euro fifty my backside. We made friends with some local guys and I started talking to one about music after he expressed an intense interest in 'good' English music, singer-songwriters in particular. I listed a few, all of which were met with blank expressions. So I asked who he'd had in mind. Westlife. He said Westlife. Our friendship dissolved as quickly as it had developed. We had some hilarious conversations with an array of interesting people in the square, culminating in a rendition of Consider Yourself from Oliver and a medley from Mary Poppins (I'm not sure of how or why, I just know it happened). Then we went to a club and danced til the early hours.
Saturday
On Saturday we went into the city for a wander. The crowds were slightly less intense than they had been the previous evening, but it was still thronging. We went to Las Ramblas and spent a lot of time exploring the Mercat Boqueria, a vibrant market full of fresh food stalls. My personal favorites were the still-very-much-alive lobsters piled up by the dozen and the Willy-Wonka-esque sweet stall, which some tourists were treating as a free buffet. Sometimes it's very embarrassing to be English abroad. In the evening we headed out to the Estrella beer factory to see the Kooks. That sounds very off-hand, doesn't it? As if it's just the sort of thing one does on one's year abroad. It was freakin' incredible. The size of the crowd was indescribable - Glastonbury almost paled in comparison. We managed to stand right on the edge of a pavement and for the first time in my life I experienced what it would feel like to be an extra 3 inches taller at festivals and gigs. It felt great. The set was fantastic and way longer than we expected and I just had to keep pinching myself that I was in the street in the middle of Barcelona, watching the Kooks, for free, for my degree. Ridiculous.
Sunday
Yoanne and I got up in the morning and headed to Placa St Jaume to watch the Castelleres. It's a very traditional Catalan event involving huge teams of people building human towers which are then scaled by children as young as 5 or 6. It's pretty spectacular. Again, the crowds were unbelievable - the square was overflowing - and the atmosphere was electric. Whenever the tourists starting whooping and clapping, the Spanish and Catalans would all start hissing to shut them up in case it ruined the concentration of the Castelleres or broke the tension. One of the towers collapsed just before the kids reached the top and I thought my heart had stopped. As far as we could tell, no one was hurt but it was a tense moment.
For lunch we went to see a fantastic couple I know who've lived in Barcelona for a good while. They cooked us up a storm and it was just great. Lunch was followed by a siesta and then we went to the Sagrada Familiar, Gaudi's unfinished masterpiece of a cathedral, to watch a projection and lights show. For anyone who saw the Lumiere version in Durham, the Sagrada Familiar blew it out of the water. Sorry about that, Durham. Then we went to a square and danced to some Spanish music in a buzzing crowd. AND THEN we went to a club to see Fatboy Slim. He was superb. Again, just standard year abroad activity I suppose. Very annoyingly, Yo's camera got stolen in the club which sucked big time and put the only dampener on an otherwise kick-ass day. Bloody thieves.
Monday
To recover from the previous 3 nights, we went to the beach. All day. Lying in the sun. Getting my tan on. Probably not what Durham University had in mind for the improvement of my linguistic ability but certianly my idea of a great day. Then we had a romantic dinner for two at a tapas bar and headed out to watch the fireworks show to close La Festa! All in all, a fantastic weekend which has lit a fire of love for Barcelona in my heart.
Wow, if you've read this far down I'm most impressed and I sincerely apologise for taking up so much of your time. On Thursday I'm off to Asturias to begin the year abroad, proper. That means a regular job, no more Fatboy Slim or the Kooks, no more beach and much less adventuring. I'm not sure if I'm excited, but I'm definitely intrigued and that'll do for now!
Ciao!
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