Barcelona, Mi Amor

Barcelona.
My last hurrah, really. The year is coming to a close and in three days I'll be touching down in New York, back in the US and back to reality. Which is a good thing, I think if I don't go learn something in real school (with tests, and papers, and research ahhh) my brain will leak out of my ears.

But before I get back to all that, I got to spend four days in beautiful Barcelona, in sunny Spain.

I left windy, almost sleeting, grey Germany and arrived to a sunny skies and beutiful countryside in Girona.

A flight of two hours with Ryanair becomes an all day journey when both airports are situated in the middle of nowhere.

Parc de la Cuitat Vella

Finally arriving in Barcelona, to be honest I could feel myself relaxing, a tightness I hadn't noticed coming unclenched in my chest. There are parts I love about Germany, but something about Spain feels like home to me. The pace of life, the food, the weather, the warmness of the people. The Metro doesnt even open until after 6 am. No one arrives on the street until after 10. Going out to eat happens at 11. This is my kind of life.

It could also be that I stayed with two dear old friends from Guatemala - my old roomate Maria and our neighbor Alejandra. Maria dragged me all over the city to see as much tourism as possible, and Alejandra dragged me to the beach to lay in the sun. Maria's task was much more difficult.

Maria: We're getting up at 830! We're going to go see this and this and this!
Me:..... ahhhhh Oh god I'm going to die Maria
Maria: You get zero out of ten as a tourist
Me: I know

Alejandra: We're going to get up at 11 and lay on the beach all day and then go out to dinner at like 10 pm
Me: So on board.

A beautiful doorway in the Born

I'm so glad I got to see so much Gaudi. The one thing that I knew I had to see in Barcelona was Parc Guell, a sprawling architectural park Gaudi designed that is full of mosaiced benches and interesting sculptures ( the view isn't bad either).

Barcelona, we'll see each other again some day.

Nineteen Countries, One Class, Chaos

Today was the last day of my German class.


Picture of Rosslare

I don't know why I haven't posted about it yet, because taking the class has been the most singular entertaining and frustrating language learning experience I have ever had.

Let me set the scene.

Imagine 19 immigrants from:

1.Syria
2. Iran
3. Iraq
4. Uzbekistan
5. Italy
6. Greece
7.Romania
8. Poland
9. Nigeria
10. Uzbekistan
11. Eritrea
12. Spain
13. Uruguay
14. India

and, of course, The good ol' USA.

Although after hearing where some people were from ( ahem, Iran, ahem, Iraq) I wish I had pulled the Canada Cover Up*. I was at least spared any Vietnamese. Or Afghanis. Or Pakistanis. The list could go on.

Take a good luck at that list. Imagine putting all those countries in a room together, (add vastly different ages and backgrounds) mix in a poor German teacher, and..... just a pinch of crazy

What happens you ask? WHAT HAPPENS??

What DOESN'T Happen.

1. First Day. Broken English. Iranian Guy.
Him: U from USA?? Yaaahhh
Me: Well, yes
Him: USA, Iran, BIiiiGGggg Problems, U know?
Me: I'm so sorry ( nervous laughing response ensues) I don't really know.. Currently??
Him: Noo, no you know
Me: Well I'm really sorry for whatever my country has done to yours.. ( racking Brain, all I can think is 80's coup?! Ayotalloh Khomeini?! AHHH current stuff Leila current stuff!!)
Him: I must go!! This American music, you like? ( shows me tiny photo on phone)
Me: Yeah Britney's great
Him: (leaves)
Me: Still nervously giggling


Second Week. English... strange dialect. Nigerian Guy with Potbelly who leaves and comes to class whenever he feels like it. Also calls me sometimes.

German Teacher: Timothy, what do you do for a living? ( German)
Timothy: Ich bin schwimmer
German Teacher: Do you compete professionally?
Timothy: Yah, yah, yah yaYAyaya
German Teacher: For Nigeria?
Timothy: YAH!! ( raises arms in air)
German Teacher: ( gets excited) FOR AFRICA??
Timothy: ( stands up) YAH!! YAH!!
*CHEERING*
Everyone in class starts cheering and clapping.
This guy is not a champion swimmer. He is 39 and potbellied. Turns out he teaches children to swim in Nigeria. That is also doubtful.


Also, one of the other Iranian Ladies constantly asks me how I am so beautiful, in broken German ( so it takes an agonizingly long time), tells me I am super skinny, and so very pretty. I have never been more uncomfortable.

I will save the bare foot story for another time.


*The Canada Cover Up: In which an American traveler gives the impression of being from Canada because Canada has never offended anyone, and one gets tired of being quizzed about... well, geography, also George Bush.

Here are Lara and Liliana rollerblading, just to end this on the right note.

Berlin

I have also been to Berlin.

What a lovely city! Who doesn't like Berlin.



Except when it's the most horrible, freezing, half melted snowy weather. But even then one wouldn't admit that one didn't exactly love the city. Because, and I have googled this, everyone loves Berlin. So obviously I did too.

I loved the museums. And the slush. And the Bradenburger Tur. And learning about the Holocaust and the Cold War. And the depression that comes along with those things.

So all in all, I wouldn't call my visit to Berlin cheerful. But interesting? yes. Oh so interesting.

Of course Ciara and I made our own fun.


We couldn't stop giggling about nothing in the one place that we should have been exceedingly somber, of course.

The Holocaust Memorial.

Why so ecstatic? I don't know. I think it's a nervous response.

Yes I am basically skipping here.

 Ciara is much better at pretending, but trust me, she was just as bad.

The Berlin Wall was actually so great to see. And the sun had come out that day, so that might be influencing my experience.

This happened as well.

Prague

I went to Prague to visit Ciara. We had a blast, obviously.

 Heres what's to know.

There's a castle/fortress.



Ciara had school, so I explored Cinderella-land for hours. I took the tram up to the castle, then wandered down through cobble stoned streets to the river.

I went into St. Vitus's Church, which had the most amazing stained glass windows I have ever seen.

The Charles Bridge over the river has ancient statues of saints on it.

Then I ended up laying in the grass in the sun for the rest of the day. It was perfect.

The next day Ciara and I went looking for the Lennon Wall. John Lennon had nothing to do with this wall. He's all over it though.

And then we obviously made the right choice and went to the Prague Zoo. Hello baby giraffe.

All in all I loved Prague.

So Much Better than a Bus Ride

I arrived in Kalaw, a blessedly cool hilltown in the Shan hills in Myanmar and planned to spend the next day taking a day trip to the Pindaya Caves ( Giant caves filled with thousands of Buddhas) but after discovering that my options were get up at 4am or pay 40 bucks for a taxi, I decided instead to head out the next day and trek the 30 miles from Kalaw to Inle Lake. Inle Lake is a large freshwater lake in the north of Burma that is a major tourist stop - think gorgeous blue lake surrounded by mountains, small villages dotting the edges, wooden boats cutting through the clear waters and monasteries perched on the hills around.

After realizing I was getting slightly scammed the next day at breakfast, I bargained my price down and set out with two girls from Belgium ( Miet and Sophie) and one guy from Boston, Andrew.

The trek cuts across steep hillsides overlooking glittering rice paddies that snake along the valleys below. We walked on old paths kept alive by villagers making their way to the larger markets from their remote farms, their backs heavy with produce and a baby or two. These paths would suddenly arrive at dusty new road chopped onto the hillsides , crumbling with gravel and rocks that hadnt settled yet into the new shape of the hills.

 Lone motorcycles passed us, their riders heads perilously turning to gawp at the foreigners making their way across little seen tea plantations and abandoned train tracks.

Rascally young monks would appear out of the forest, stealing a moment from their chanting and mischief to peer at us in astonishment.

I saw more cows than I could count - bovines of all makes, buffaloes  heavy horned oxen plodding a cart and driver past us. I saw more two wheeled carts than I did cars.

The second day we descended from the hills to a dusty rolling wasteland of red earth and dry hay - I still haven't gotten the dust out of my ankles. High cliffs of mountains rose in the distance and at last by way of an ancient stream bed we made it to the pass. Pa oh villagers with their dark embroidered tunics and fiery red turbans watched us magnanimously, taking note of us with unimpressed half lidded eyes.

In the Shan Hills, more than anywhere else in the world, I would imagine daily life has remained unaltered for as long as any memory.  Our presence is unimpressive to a people that have lived through so much and yet changed so little.

The third day we slowly moved downwards  through the dusty hills, passing ancient Bodhi trees and making our way through dark rock pillars that dictated our path, curved albino trees growing like crowns on dark stone princes, the roots searching blindly through porous rock for dry red earth.

Emerging out of the slow agricultural fields we stood. our feet weary and our eyes full, suddenly in the middle of a tourist market. British retireees bustled around us, bargaining down and getting ripped off by hawkers and coyotes. Silver jewelery and white linen pantsuits ruled the day, out of place with our stinky dust covered backpacks and blisters. 

We had finally, finally, arrived at Inle lake. So much better than a bus ride.

Trekking Burma

Hey!

I havent posted in a while because I have been waiting to add photos. I have a ton of photos from my time in Burma, and I've been editing them busily. Here are some from the trek I did from a town in the mountains

 ( Kalaw) to Inle Lake - more are coming soon. 

Hello Sophie, (Belgian girl I trekked with).

 Hello Asian hills.

 Hello unsuspecting villager in field.

 Hello sunset from the first night of trekking. So many spectacular sunsets!

 Hello again Asian fields.

 Well hello there. I have enough cow pictures for an entire post on cows. Get excited.

 This youngun was torturing our exhausted sweaty selves with her dripping popsicle.

 Our guide, Ngungu. ( Nyu Nyu). She was adorable and laughed a lot, but didn't speak too much English  Except for occasionally she'd come out of nowhere with things like "initiation ceremony." What?

 I couldn't resist snapping a shot of these Pa -oh villagers huddled up on the hillside. It looked like a pow wow but I'm assuming it was lunch.

 Oh Sophie, you poser.

 Hello Pa-oh villagers. Love the turbans.

 Yes, I slept in this Monastery. Yes, some people got riproaring drunk. I was too busy sleeping after hiking 40 kilometers.

 These monks were throwing stones at each other. They later got very close to hitting me when they decided to play monkey in the middle with the unsuspecting foreigner - while I was taking a shower ( outside, with a metal bowl, from a well).

 Hello Miet and Sophie. And the sunrise we caught because our guide was racing the other groups. She thought we didnt know.... except we got everywhere a good hour before everyone else and every morning got up progressively early. Hello 5:30 am.

 Hello Asia.

Sometimes you get lucky.