Lesson Learned: Always Have a Back-Up Plan

Last night, right as i was going to bed, i heard a knock on my door. "Caroline?" It was Yara. "Can you come out here? We want to talk to you."

15 minutes later, i sat on my the bed, stunned. They want me to leave? I was totally shocked. I didn't realize i'd been on trial. They decided they don't like living with me, that i wasn't a good person to have in their house, and they wanted me to leave - and that there was someone else they wanted to put in my room on the 20th. "So you have like, two weeks, okay?"

Also, they were offended that i'd put my name on the food that i'd bought. It's very creepy to me to think they've been watching me and judging me and talking about me behind my back. There was not even any space for negotiation - no, these are the problems we're having, you could change it this way and it would be better - just - get out.

So i was on the phone and IM until 2 AM with various consoling family/framily members, while i cried, angry, hurt, and confused. Not only was i upset at the way they felt about me, i liked living there. I'd thought Yara and i were getting to be friends.

I've spent the afternoon looking for places, and i have one really good prospect that said i could probably move in. They had 3 other people to meet, but said i was the only English speaking one, which is what they were looking for, so, fingers crossed.

It's only €250, including utilities, which is incredibly cheap for Barcelona, especially the area and the quality of the building - it's GORGEOUS. It's what you think of when you think of classic Spanish architecture. There are two balconies, one in the back and one in the front, and they have a washing machine. And they also really have WiFi - no more windowsill perching.

And while they want to practice their English, i'm hoping also to practice Spanish. They're two guys (the one who showed me around is named Raul), they seem very nice. The apartment has very tall ceilings, dark hardwood floors, and the room is at least double the size of the one i'm in now. There's no window, but the apartment on the whole is full of light. And without a window, it will probably be quieter. Also, it's a 10-15 minute walk from school.

They're going to call me at 7:30 tonight to let me know for sure, and said i could move into tonight if i wanted. Which i will, if it takes til 2 AM. I don't want to share space with people who are so hostile to me. Ick.

Hopefully this is the last of the difficulties - though this is way worse than cell phone purgatory.

The Mediterranean, Simón, and El Corte Ingles

Today I was supposed to meet up with other students from Metafora, but I was late. This will come as a great shock to those of you who have ever had a class with me, scheduled work, or anything to which I was supposed to be on time. Anyway, we were going to go to the beach, but I underestimated how long it would take to get there on the metro.

I can't explain how much I love the ocean. When I was a little girl, I believed that I was a mermaid, and I once told my mother on a vacation at the beach that I was going to go home to my real family. The last time I saw the ocean was well over a year ago, in Hawaii. Before that, it was in Barcelona in March 2006, when the sea blue and beautiful and FAR too cold to even think about getting in. Today, the beach at Barceloneta, near the Ciudad Olímpica, was packed. I stashed my stuff where I could keep an eye on it while swimming, strategically placing it near some other folks so it looked like it was with their stuff, and gratefully got into the water. It was hot today, and by that time I already knew I was getting sunburned. The water was clear and cool, the bottom was clear of shells and other things that cut one's feet, and there weren't very many critters, just some small minnows. It was incredibly lovely. There's a beach that's closer to my house than school – tough decision.

I wasn't swimming long before I spotted a Spanish guy on a pink raft giving me the eye. Oh great, I thought, and cracked up in spite of myself. He took that as an invitation and paddled over to me, introducing himself as Simón. He was very friendly, and flirted with me in a not obnoxious way, so I talked to him for a while. He didn't speak much English, so the conversation was pretty simple. He tried very hard to persuade me to go dancing with him tonight, but I politely declined, several times, until he got the picture. When he finally realized I wasn't single, he said, “But do you have a boyfriend in Barcelona?” “No,” I replied. “Well that's me!” Yes, exactly what I was looking for my third day in Barcelona. (Is it my third day? I'm having a hard time keeping track of what day of the week it is.)

Yesterday after I went to the library, I stopped at a Vodafone store to see about getting more minutes on my phone – this has been an epic struggle. I have a prepaid British phone that my dad gave me, that came with a card that was supposed to be used to add more minutes, but apparently it doesn't work for adding minutes unless you're IN England, and it took forever to establish that. Anyway, in the store, I went round and round with this friendly woman who didn't speak a word of English to establish that she couldn't do anything with a prepaid phone like I had and I had to go to El Corte Ingles to get what I needed, which was to switch it to the Spanish Vodafone network and get more time put on the card.

El Corte Ingles is a huge high-end Spanish department store, it's a chain and they have them all over the country. The thought of it kind of leaves me with a bad taste in my mouth; I had a a bad experience there when I was in Sevilla last time I travelled in Spain, over spring break during my semester abroad. Somehow, I wandered off the map after getting groceries, and got horribly lost in the dark in this city with winding streets. I'm the type to navigate by landmarks, and I kept seeing this huge green sign for El Corte Ingles. Then I would walk a little bit, and see it again, so I would turn around and then see it again after a minute – it was like being in the twilight zone, and I couldn't find my way. I was exhausted, and starting to feel panicky. Finally, somehow I escaped, and the next day I realized there were like FIVE separate buildings with that same sign, which I couldn't tell in the dark.

I knew there was a branch in Plaça Catalunya, a major square in Barcelona, which is at the beginning of La Rambla, the big touristy pedestrian walkway with flower sellers and El Mercat de la Boquéria, the famous Barcelona market. Some of the fruit vendors there have more items I can't identify than ones I recognize.

So the store there is absolutely enormous. I was a little unsure if they would really have what I needed, and my doubt increased as I went up the escalators. I kept going up and nothing on any of the floors I came to had anything to do with cell phones. Finally, on the 7th (and not the top!) floor, I found the cell phones. It was so crowded you had to take a number and wait for them to call you. The first counter I waited at was the wrong thing, so I went to the right one, took a number and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally about half an hour, they called my number, and I told them what I needed. Immediately I asked if they spoke English, because I'd been in the store an hour already, and rather than educate myself I wanted to expedite the process. The woman helping me did speak English, of course, and got me a new SIM card. I was so relieved! I grabbed a charger for the phone, since I had a charger with a British plug, and a car charger, neither of which were doing me any good. I paid, and decided to put the new SIM card in right then and there. And what else but... SIM Card Not Valid. So I got another number, back in line. Instead of sitting around, I went down a couple of floors, found an adapter for my computer plug, and came back. Still 8 people in front of me, so I went down all nine floors to the basement and got a snack (a peach – lots of lush, locally grown peaches in the stores around here), and came back. I'd missed my turn, of course, so I took another number, and thank goodness, only had to wait a little bit to discover that before I could use the new card, my phone needed to be “liberated,” which she couldn't do, but I could have it done “at the Pakistani places, you know what I mean?” Luckily I did, there's one near my house. They're these places that have international phones, internet, phone cards, etc; but after catching the train back to Sant Boi, I found out that for whatever reason, they can't do it until Monday.

I'm in cell phone purgatory.

Next entry: The Puking Guy and Gladys Kravitz (both featured across the street) and soon, pictures!

New York to Barcelona

Flying to Iceland: I didn´t sleep. At all. I read a book and wrote in my paper journal. Watching the sunrise from the airplane was incredible, and it reminded me of the last time i went to Barcelona, being on a train from Seville and unable to sleep. I was very annoyed about it, but the train tracks went right along the Mediterranean and i saw a most incredible sunrise - it was worth it, as was this one. I regretted that the battery in my camera was dead and i couldn´t take a photo! Landing, i saw the landscape of Iceland, which is about the size of Kentucky. The area around Rekyavik was very, very flat for the most part, but then out of nowhere there would be a huge, rocky mountain. The flat areas looked like what i imagine moors to look like. Lots of long grass. Then, the flat areas would drop very suddenly into the ocean. It was beautiful, and stark. The language, Isklenska, is very interesting and impossible to decipher. I read that their language is so pure that most Icleanders can read ancient Viking texts. Wow! So i was there for about an hour, and spent the rest of my American money buying fruit. The plane from there to Paris was packed with French teenagers. They must have been on a school trip to the US or something. They were very loud and the girl behind me was very put out when i leaned my chair back, being so exhausted at that point that i really was ready to sleep.

Paris: I took the metro from Charles de Gaulle (where it had taken forever to get my bags) to the Gare d´Austerlitz, the train station for all southbound trains. There, i changed my ticket to an earlier, direct, and less expensive train to Barcelona. And i did it entirely in French - not having spoken regularly since i graduated, it felt like quite the accomplishment. Unfortunately, after the sleepless flight, i wasn´t up for much exploring of Paris, so i sat in the train station and watched people and read my book and listened to people. The Gare d´Austerlitz is quite beautiful.

RENFE to Barcelona: The RENFE is the Spanish train network. My train left Paris at 8:30, and i was in a sleeper car with two other American girls who were travelling before starting internships in Italy. They were very amusing. The conductor was the only one who could put down the beds, which were folded up into the wall. He couldn´t get there fast enough! I was so excited to get into a real(ish) bed and have a full night´s sleep. He finally arrived, and i crawled into bed, put my earplugs in, and the next thing i knew, the door was flying open, and the conductor was shouting, Media hora a Barcelona! (Half an hour to Barcelona)

Barcelona to Sant Boi: I´d assumed i´d have wireless in the train station in Paris. That hadn´t been the case, so i arrived in Barcelona without the phone number and address of my hostess. Oops! So i had to schlep all my stuff around until i found a wireless hot spot. The first challenge, however, was finding the metro. The tourist map i´d gotten at the train station had big blue M symbols all over it. Obviously that meant metro; so i headed for the nearest one on the map and searched and searched and found nothing. Only after asking someone where the nearest metro was did i realize that the big blue Ms indicated museums, and the metro was marked with tiny little black and white Ms inside diamonds. Of course, how silly of me. By then i was hot and tired and dehydrated, so i searched fruitlessly for water, finding only vending machines and having only a 50€ note - the smallest i´d been able to get from the ATM. I wished for a sherpa. Eventually i got to the central train station (Sants Estació), many metro stops away from the one i´d arrived at. There, i found wireless, called Yara, and was soon on my way to Sant Boi. I got on the wrong train at first, and had to retrace my steps back to Sants. But then i got on the right one, and soon Yara was picking me up at the train station in Sant Boi, and we were on our way to her house with her dog.

Enough Airports

I'm still at JFK airport, where i've been since about 10 PM last night; but i've gotten placed on a flight! I'm flying out at 8:35, i have a one hour layover in Iceland, and then i fly on to Paris, where i'll land at about 1 PM tomorrow. I'll have half a day in Paris, and i take an overnight train to Barcelona, where i'll arrive on Wednesday morning. So almost four full days of travel! Wow. I'm hoping i'll feel rested and energetic while i'm in Paris so i can walk around and see some stuff, walk through some of my favorite areas like St Chappelle and Passy, find a good place to have dinner, maybe find a small art exhibit, half a day is no time to try to even go inside the Louvre. The Musee d'Orsay, on the other hand...

And while i'm quite glad that my flight over costs less than $350, i have certainly earned it, sleeping on the cold marble floor. If i'd had the energy, i would have gotten out my yoga mat to sleep on, but it was too deep in my luggage for me to deal with it after a couple of hours of running from terminal to terminal, searching for a (comparatively) comfortable place to rest and hunting wireless internet access.

But now i know when and where i'm flying, i'm simply waiting to check in, though there is this small matter of having to have your e-ticket printed... though i'm sure i can overcome that one. I have a confirmation number and a passport.

Iceland! Cool! Maybe i'll run into Bjork.