Being Thankful

Sometimes, if you are fortunate, you get the oppurtunity to meet incredible people who make you laugh, make you dance, help you out. The magical part of the way it works is that you never know if you'll see that person again, you probably spent an entire evening next to them, sharing, talking, bonding in a million and one ways and then you simply say goodbye and they are gone, but it doesn't mean that they didn't leave something with you, perhaps something to make you think, change, or simply laugh about. If you are REALLY fortunate, you come across people who you meet and you never let go of. Those who become you true friends that aren't only there when you are laughing and dancing, but crying and falling as well.

On Thanksgiving Day, my roommates and I gathered in the kitchen and made dinner, bringing ingredients that we each had and came up with a delicious meal. I then got the opportunity to sit at the table and look at each of them, thanking them for their existence and the fact that they have made a little room in their lives for me. These guys, along with some of the gals I've met here have become those people that I accidentally met and don't plan on ever letting go, the ones you say goodbye to with the intentions of seeing them over and over again. I am grateful for my friends. I am grateful for those that live here in BCN that have made me feel so at home. I am grateful for those friends back home who constantly tend to me, call me, write to me, or love me without ever having to say anything. Those that crossed my path one day and influenced me so much, inspired me, and pushed me to dream and be myself. I am grateful for the love that I am constalntly surrounded with, because I know for a fact that without that love and those friends I could not survive. and my smile would not be as big

The Last Supper

Before Karla headed back to the states, a world of hamburgers, pizzas, fried chicken and so many other splendid foods, we celebrated by eating what she loved most in this country. We found ourselves in a strange ship like restaurant, eating tortilla de patata, tortilla de roquefort, patatas bravas, pan amb tomaquet and drinking a glass of rioja. After a long day of walking, this was exactly our bodies needed. Then the night before she left, we went to the xampanyeria, a place I was at the first time I was ever in Barcelona (six years ago!) where you can get delicious cava for 2 euros (a bottle) and yummy bocadillos for 1.45! The catch is that the place is super duper tiny and you are squished in among countless of other people eating their bocadillos, but it's worth every toe stepping moment. Barcelona misses you Karla!

Small Divinities

There are some things in life that are so simple, so minute, that you almost miss them, unless you are looking, taking the time to look up, down and all around as you walk through the streets you think you know. After living six years in San Francisco, I still managed to find new and exciting streets, cafes, objects that I must have walked by a million times and suddenly saw them surface. Luckily, Barcelona seems to have that same magic. I can walk through El Borne, Gracia or even my neighborhood, a hundred times and each time I spot something new. Thank goodness for awareness.

Last week, I said my last and final goodbye to Karla as she headed home to the states. We decided to relive what we first had seen in Barcelona when we arrived and what sruck me the most was the simple objects around the city that make it entrancing. For example, the rusty flowers and fountain propped on a closed market Sunday afternoon or a family of bikes intrically tied to each other because it is Sunday after all and the owners are most likely tucked away taking their Sunday siesta or sitting in a cafe somewhere reading the newspaper, chatting with friends, family, dogs giving their colored two-wheel mobiles a rest. Or best of all, the purchase of a unique neck warmer in hopes of welcoming a cold winter, knitted with gold thread and tied together with a velvet ribbon. Really, can it get better than this? To indulge in the streets and seasons of a city that is ever-changing, yet seems to have remained the same, with its dark gothic streets and antique shops that cater to particular objects, like neck warmers, turron, chocolate, books. I dare you to find something new in the city you live in, explore, look around you and when things start getting boring, tiring, painful...sit in the sun, find a new cafe, invite a friend out for a walk and live a little something new in the place you think you know so well.
Happy Thanksgiving my distant viewers. I am ever so grateful for every single one of you...

Tuesdays are official

Tuesdays on 15 Buenos Aires will never be the same again, we have made it official that every Tuesday we will cook dinner, drink wine, invite friends over and talk all night. This started two Tuesdays ago when I decided to make dinner for them. The boys had a momentary moment of enlightment and realized that Tuesdays would be perfect because A) we are all home B)It's a good way to start the week and C) the cleaning lady comes on Wednesdays so after eating like Kings and Queens we can leave the dishes! Life really doesn't get better than this folks. And so every Tuesday we will gather at the table and one of the roomies will have to cook. Each week it is someone else's turn and each week the other roommates bring dessert, wine, whatever else might add to the dinner.

This week's menu consisted of a variety of cheeses, fresh figs, walnuts, fruit, a four cheese tortellini with almonds made by Jordi, along with bacon wrapped-melted swiss cheese, fresh bread, semi sweet white wine and a bottle of dry red wine. We ended dinner with a cocktail known as Agua de Valencia, a yummy concotion of orange juice, champagne, and Martini blanco with a dash of sugar. YUM!And this is living folks. I have managed to bring the Sunday night dinner traditions from San Francisco to Tuesday nights in Barcelona and I love it. We not only cook together but we have begun to unfold our stories and ourselves, getting to know each other more and more and building a comfortable home. We've even added a new plant, a new life to our little house. All I can say is that it is comforting to know that you can still find amazing people with the same hopes as mine, to make a home out of a house and to enjoy good food with the pleasure of sharing. The question is, how will we keep our shapely figures with all this decadence?

Secret Gardens

Here are some shots of my favorite parks, gardens, or churches I've come across...

This is Turo Parc, a few blocks away from my house. It is absolutley incredible, with a pond covered in lily pads, deep dark forests and quotes on plaques that inspire you to take in a deep breath and feel the coolness of the trees and the shade they give off...

And then there is Gaudi parc and what I consider the secret garden, that keyhole is so tempting, I wanted to break through and see what was beyond the ivy and iron

And a small deterioting church in the center of el raval

This American Life

Fermenting a new culture takes time, patience and sometimes even an excessive amount of energy. There are mornings when I wake up, eager to set up coffee dates, to continue forming imporatant relationships, to discover things I've yet to see in Barcelona, to eat food I'm not particularly keen on and to get used to the fact that Halloween is not celebrated the way I'm used to it being celebrated. It takes a pocket full of strength to accept new traditions and to leave behind those that I loved so much. That is the exchange I have chosen in order to live out a much larger dream, but it doesn't always mean it's easy, as many of you know. For years, since I can remember, I have been celebrating halloween with eagerness, before Halloween was over, I was already planning what I would be next year. We aren't talking about witches and goblins, no, I wanted to act out characters I found enthralling, fun and thoughtful. I floated from being Frida Kahlo to a 17th century wench, to a Venetian masked and caped princess to forming an entire Brazilian soccer team. And then suddenly I was in Barcelona, where Halloween extends to simply wearing a mask, if you're lucky. I read stories and saw photographs from my friends back home and my heart tore that I'd given up such an extravagant holiday, but in the end, I have found other things that make me laugh and live extravagantly. For instance, on Halloween night, my friends and roommates took the time to go out with me and celebrate Halloween, even if nobody wanted to dress up. It didn't fill the hole I felt inside, but it made me feel loved and somehow part of something new.

And then I decided to fill that American 'emptiness' with a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken and a cold beer. The best part of it was that as disgusting as it seemed, I craved something that proclaimed a piece of my past, grease and all and my roommate Alex was willing to take in part of it. He didn't question it or doubt my intuitions, it was Sunday and what the hell, lets eat chicken! And we did, I had it with ketchup and all and licked my fingers up. And this is what matters, that I wake up and realize I'm not alone. It is only a matter of asking those around me to talk, to have coffee or to help me understand my cultural confusion and they do, never judging me or making me feel like an outsider. Our house has turned into a home where we share dinners, company and movies and as weird as I am, they have fully included me in their lives and conversations and that makes all the difference.
Alex comes home one night with an entire fish, known as a Dorada and proclaims that tonight he will cook dinner. This shocks me, but gives me a sensation of pride, a person who wasn't sure he could cook at all, suddenly has taken the leap to cook a fish covered in rock salt and baked. It was absolutely delicious and the effort alone makes me smile. This, I say to myself, is caring. This is why I struggle to stay put, to not run when I think things aren't quite what I expected. The dazzle of being in a new country is fading, I'm looking at months and months of having been here, of somehow already adjusting to a 'normal' life that involves work, fatigue, homesickness and countless other emotions, but I continue to be fortunate enough to have people around me that genuinely care and wouldn't let me cop out so soon.

Friendship, I believe is the key to survival and it is necessary to put in that effort to create stability within your surroundings and to not limit yourself when it comes to making time for those willing to make time for you. I feel tired, I am emotional about going home for the holidays, I crave a certain normality here and struggle with that impatience, knowing it's much too soon to be perfectly well off. And my friends here know it, they somehow already know me, perhaps more than I know myself at the moment and they don't stop calling me, they don't stop holding me and it is a relief. I feel protected and strong even at my weakest moments. Whether I'll ever be "american" again I don't know. I'm torn between two cultures now, two traditions that I love and hold on to, but what I have clear is that this American life I have brought with me isn't forgotten, it is simply being put aside for something different, maybe even something purer.