Randon Reflection #1: Bad 80s Rock

Spain´s radio has an unhealthy obsession with Phil Collins, Brian Adams, and last, but not least... yes, if you can believe it: Roxette. I kid you not.


I literally hear at least one song from each of them on the radio every day.


Roxette? DRESSED FOR SUCCESS and SHE'S GOT THE LOOK...(what in the world can make a brown girl's eyes turn blue, lalalalala-la, nan'nan'nananana'nah) I now know all the words.


Brian Adams. They played EVERYTHING I DO, I DO IT FOR YOU the other day, and I heard it for the first time in, like, fifteen years and thought....ahhh, I secretly like this song. Then, I heard it again. And again, and I no longer felt romantic. I wanted to send Brian Adams an email virus.


I currently hear Phil Collins in my head ALL THE FREAKING time. I can´t get away from the man. He was in the hardware store yesterday. He was in the internet cafe. He was in the bathroom in the Corte Ingles. Okay, so I will admit that I will sing along to SuSu-Sussudio!...as much as the next person. But really, I asked a Spaniard about it, and he said.."Phil Collins? I love Phil Collins."


I don´t think I´ve ever heard anyone EVER admit that they love Phil Collins. And certainly, not the ubiquitous Phil Collins who follows you into the bathroom when really you´d just like a moment without PHIL COLLINS!

Random Reflection #2: Wall of Hams

Sorry, this photo is turned on its side, but oh well. This is really a story that only my parents and my siblings will completely get...

So I was in the Corte Ingles grocery store, trying to find the eggs in the refrigerated section (not realizing that...along with the milk...Spain puts their eggs on the shelf without refrigeration). So, I was hunting for the eggs near the butter and the tortilla patata (which they refrigerator...but eggs, no) and I smelled something very familiar... something very nostalgic, something that smelled exactly like home in Middletown. And when I turned, there is was. The wall of hanging hams. Ah...the ham.

Random Reflection #3: Socialism

Socialism is alive and well in Spain.

Buying a freaking train ticket from Renfe is the biggest pain in the ass you can imagine. First of all, if you don´t have a DNI (which is a Spanish national ID number) then you can´t buy the tickets online. (ALERT: if this is wrong, and I have been led astray because the renfe website is so crappy, then please let me know)...

So you actually have to go down to the station to purchase the tickets, which is a total PITA because socialism is alive and well in Spain and everyone and their grandmother is waiting to buy renfe tickets and it takes an hour AT LEAST (and I was there on a Thursday morning by 9:45 AM).

Not only that, but I actually called ahead and reserved my tickets by phone, but because Socialism is alive and well in Spain, it doesn´t matter. You still have to go down to the freaking station and wait in line--with everyone and their grandmother--just to pay and pick up the ticket that you already spent time reserving on the phone. They make everyone take a number and wait. There´s no separate line for those who have already reserved their ticket.

I asked one of my new Spanish friends about this and he looked at me funny, and said: "I don´t see the problem because I think it is a very fair system." Then, the light bulb went off and I realized that Socialism is in full force: clearly, it´s not about what´s most productive or efficient; it´s about what´s FAIR for everyone. Christ.

Well, it should be noted, that I was in the grocery store (where you have to take a number and wait your turn to buy everything...bread, pastries, fruits and vegetables) and I was waiting for my turn, but I noticed that there was this old Asian woman who had been waiting a very long time, and everyone was taking their turn ahead of her, and so when it finally was my turn, I told the guy behind the counter that I thought the Asian woman has been waiting much longer than me, and when he asked her for her ticket, she had #40. Mine number was #81. Clearly, she had been waiting there forever--just waiting for someone to tell her it was her freaking turn!

What? No Churros!

As most of you already know, my dad came into town from the States because his mother (my grandmother) was very sick and she ultimately passed away last week while we were in Zaragoza. We'll all miss you very much, yaya.


On a lighter note, this is what happens when you put three and 1/2 Spaniards (Paco, Pepe, Dad, and me) in a breakfast café on Sunday morning and they find out that the churros have been already consumed by the entire town of Zaragoza (and it´s only 10AM in the morning). And now, for the 3 1/2 Spaniards to unite to take a photo is nearly impossible because of the overwhelming chaos that ensues by not being able to eat chocolate con churros as expected... and a "croissant a la plancha" just doesn´t cut it.

There we go... see how much working taking photos for this blog really is?

Mi estudio!

Here are the pictures everyone´s been waiting for...my new home! These are the pictures of the studio I am renting near the Plaza de España, and I love it. And yes, that´s a washing machine-dryer combo. That little thing actually washes clothes, and dries them.

That´s the front entrance... and my bed.

That´s the rest of my bed and lo and behold...what´s that? A second bed for anyone who wants to hop on a plane and come visit!

This is the living room, which yes, is also the dining room and the bedroom, but hey, I still love it!
And of course, the eurobath.

Sassy Catalina´s mandatory messy table...


These are the sheets that I bought at the Corte Ingles, which I am very proud to show off because it was quite an endeavor to buy sheets in a foreign country. First of all, it´s hard to find sheets in the US, between making sure you buy the full matress cover, sheet, and pillow combo, and then making sure you buy the right size, and then making sure you don´t pay full price--because Sassy Catalina is cheap and she will spend hours at Bed Bath and Beyond if it means rummaging through the back of the sale corner for hours on end until she does indeed score those half-price double bed combo sheets (right, Danny?)

So when I went into the Corte Ingles to look for sheets, I immediately knew I was introuble when--not only was everything in Spanish (of course, I knew it would be, and yet the difference between juegos de cama, sabanas, and capas, just wasn´t registering), but also because sizes were listed in centimeters. So sheet sizes looked like this: 90cm/190-200 and 135cm/190 etc. Yeah, exactly.

So, I quickly strolled over to the matress section and starting acting like I was interested in buying a matress, when really, I was just scoping out the labels on the twin matresses, trying to figure out what the heck size they were...

I quickly discerned that I wanted 90cm and that both the twin matresses and the double matresses are 190cm in length...so just like quessing on the SAT(which by the way, got me an embarassing 500 on math), I went with A) 90cm/190-200. And I was right. And I even successfully found discounted combo sheets (which still took me another hour), but at least there was no paying full price by Sassy Catalina! And I am happy to proclaim that I am now a Spanish sheet-shopping master.



This is a new little TV Tito that I bought for 29 euros. The good news is that it´s so light, I was able to carry it in a bag on the metro. The bad news is that it´s black and white and it only gets reception for two channels. The good news is that one of those channels has Grey Anatomy dubbed in Spanish! Yay!

It also has an AM/FM radio. I love my new little mini TV Tito!

More Family Photos!

Since everyone seems to be enjoying the photos so much, here's a few more of the family. And yes, that´s little Juan, and I have that expression on my face because I´m standing on my tippee toes, and even then, he´s still a massive tree of a man now. It´s hard to believe! And yes, it can only mean one thing: the rest of us are getting old, old, old!

This is Santi with Yolanda, his wife and son, Pablo, who indeed, should be put in commercials ASAP.

Commericals!

Nana said I was naughty for taking this photo of her. But it's my favorite!

Maria can play the piano. Santi can play the piano and sing. Nana can play the piano, sing, play the guitar and play the accordian. It was so fun, but I was feeling like quite the untalented, unmusical American, despite having played the violin for 8 years and remembering nothing-- (that´s what's called "repressed memories"). It really made me wish that I had stuck with guitar class level 1, so I could at least be able to strum a D chord.

Back from Rome!

The Sassy Travelers have returned.

I was in Rome by myself for almost a week, and then Maria came later to meet up with me for the weekend. It was tiring and fun and cold and wet and beautiful, and in the end, Italian men have proven themselves to be quite the flirting masters of the European continent.

And I am proud to say that I have mastered the language of Italian (not really--but I got a lot of winks for trying really hard) Also, I've decided to learn French and Italian at the same time, because during my stay in Italy, I realized that they're basically one language anyway.

For example, "grazie" sounds like merci, it's only disguised as the spanish word, gracias.

The mandatory sites

The Spanish steps...
And the Fontana di Trevi

Waiting, waiting, and more waiting...

On the day that Maria arrived, she really wanted to climb to the top of San Peter's Basilica, so that's what we did. We waited in line for two hours and climbed up to the top of the dome, despite not having had eaten breakfast or lunch. That is why I look like I'm going to die.


Bernini planned the piazza and it is one of my favorite sites. Bernini loved the element of surpise, and it's in all of his works. With the piazza, he planned it so that only little streets meander their way into the piazza, so that the traveler is suddenly surprised to stumble upon the awe-inspiring Barqoe square as well as the massive San Peter's Basilica, hidden in the center of the Vatican.

Then, fast forward 400 years, and Mussolini decided it would be a good idea to bulldoze a direct path right up to the Basilica. Bad Mussolini.

Ruins. No Really. Ruins.

The best part of the ruins were the views. Especially of me.






Below is actually an interesting photo of the back of the Pantheon, which is not a part of the ruins, but it does give you some idea that the ruins--which, unlike the photos above--are really unimpressive piles of brick on hills, although they used to be covered with frescos, and marble and columns, and be a really beautiful bling bling place for the emperors to hang out in.

You can imagine that there was a fountain here, and a large impressive foyer here, and a wonderful mosaic ceiling here....

Again, the best part of the Forum's ruins and Palatine Hill was the views, and that's what I took pics (above) of...the views of Rome.

Is the Sistine Chapel really worth it?

Above is the start of the line to see Michaelangelo's Sistine Chapel. Maria and I--the sassy travelers that we are--thought it would be a good idea to go on the only day of the month that it was free.

While we were trying to find the end of the line, Maria kept saying over and over: this is the longest line I have ever seen in my whole life!

And I kept saying: I don't think the Sistine Chapel is worth it. Blasphemy, I know. But cuh'monnnnnn...





The end is way far away (sorry, I can't figure out how to turn this photo the right way). But we did find the end--all the way in the piazza of San Peter.