Random Beauty

Here are some random photos I've taken...for your viewing pleasure. Kick back and relax!

Loads of sailboats.



Port Vella with Parc Montjuic in the background.



Ping Pong!



Giant butt in the park.



Fountain in Plaza Catalunya. (The city center)

WARNING: Not for Kids!

I went down to my local "Dick's Sporting Goods" equivalent last week and picked me up a pair of Boomerang rollerblades. (Is rollerblades one word or two words?) I had to exchange the first pair because size 44 was too big. I'm only a European 42.



I wanted to reclaim my innocence of being a kid, rollerblading at The Skating Palace to a mix of Vanilla Ice, Depeche Mode, and Boyz 2 Men. Rollerblading limbo. Couples skate. Disco night. End-of-the-school-year parties. Can you feel me?

I saw people here weaving in and out of traffic, rollerblading backwards, with their dogs. This seemed like great fun. I quickly realized that you have to re-learn how to rollerblade. I forget how to brake! I have been using the rubber pad on the back of my right heel, but this brings me to a slow roll at best, not a stop. To come to a complete stop I normally have to run into something: a trash can, light poll, helpless elderly lady, Asian tourists... Can someone please instruct me on the proper braking technique?

Random cracks in pavement, brick sidewalks, sewer drains, and thousands of tourists have added to the rollerblading experience. I couldn't be happier with my purchase though. It's been a great workout and an easy way to see the city. One day I'll be weaving in and out of tourists, but not listening to Vanilla Ice.

I decided to make my rollerblading debut on St. Jordi's Day, where thousands of people crowd the streets to buy books. What an adventure!

St. Jordi's Day

Monday was St. Jordi's Day here in sunny Barcelona ...aka Valentine's Day!

Now most of you already know how I feel about "V-Day". In short, I think it's nothing more than a commercial ploy for retailers to boost 1st quarter earnings by pressuring guys into buying expensive dinners and chocolates and jewelry. I'll stop there, because I know this is a special day for many couples, and I'll never get a girlfriend with that attitude :)

Barcelona celebrates the big day in an interesting way. The guys buy their sweetheart a rose and the ladies buy their man a book. I like this. It's simple. It's romantic. And I like a good read.

I know you're all wondering though... no, I did not buy my sweetheart a rose, and I did not receive a book. Maybe next year.

Arc de Triomphe

Why is there one of these in every European city? Let's be more original.

A better question is why do I visit them all and take pictures?

Barcelona

Paris

Rome

Shooter!

There's nothing like a good American film when feeling a bit homesick, especially one with Mark Wahlberg. When the FBI sets him up, he decides to make his own justice. It's another movie about conspiracy in the US government. And I like it. It leaves you wondering how much was really fiction. It was too realistic for fiction.

Just shoot it.

Where are the appliances?

I normally describe myself as observant, or "detail oriented", as they say in "the business world". Not this time. I completely missed the boat on this one.

I went grocery shopping for the first time yesterday. It took me about 5 minutes to understand if I was buying mayonnaise or pudding or tartar sauce or marshmellow spread. I was drewling as I passed by the chicken, turkey, and beef aisles. I did manage to sneak some tuna and lunch meat into the house.

This is day four in the new apartment, and I finally realized there is no: microwave, toaster, OVEN, or dryer. Did I really overlook all that? You betcha! Looks like I'm roughing it for the next 5 months. There is a make-shift stove though. So I can toast my bread on a skillet and boil water.

Cheers!

Surgeon General skips Barcelona

I have come to the conclusion that The Surgeon General must have skipped Barcelona when promoting the hazards of smoking. He must have missed his flight and decided to call off the European tour altogether.

I would say 85% of the people I see are puffing their lungs away. And this is more than the casual cigarette. More than the not-so-casual cigarette. We went out for a drink this past Saturday and I saw a guy who would light a new cigarette with his current one, so that he always had at least one going. I was impressed with his creativity at first. By number 10 I became concerned for his health.

On a more positive note, I'm getting really good at holding my breath as I walk through the clouds of smoke.

I'm petitioning for a SMOKE-FREE Barcelona, similar to that in Ohio. Here's my current ad:

Home Sweet Home

Alas, a place to call home!

After what seemed like weeks of searching, I moved into my new room yesterday. I live with a very nice Colombian lady and her son Swami, meaning "teacher of himself". He's young and quite energetic. In the flat there is also a young couple from Greece and a young guy from Germany, whom I have yet to meet. As soon as I met the Colombian lady, I knew I wanted to live there. She was warm and inviting, quite rare from the other places I visited.

Her only rules are:
"no carne. no zapatos. no fumar."
"no meat. no shoes. no smoking."

I don't mind the last too, but that first one might be a challenge. I am a lover of meat. She is a vegetarian and the smell of meat cooking makes her sick. So I can eat lunch meat and tuna, but I can't fry up some good ol' chicken breasts. I'll find a way around this. Any suggestions here would be nice.

I took some photos of my crib:

But first, let me start with my previous pathetic-excuse-for-a-room.




Mi Casa.

Joke's on Me!

I thought I was just being cute and witty with the description of my blog (see above). I was tucked safely away in my little cubicle that overlooks the Red's stadium before I left, trying to think of something clever to capture your attention, so you would add me to your favorites, and read everyday. Oh and I wanted to gross you out a little too. Turn's out, you really are enjoying all this at my expense. Let me explain:

Diahrrea. This one's for real folks. I couldn't make this up. Karen Ramos from UC International warned me of this before I left, even told me to go to the doctor and get a prescription for it before I left. I traveled to Europe last year, diahrrea-free, for 6 weeks. Naturally, as I do most UC faculty, I blew her off. Wow am I paying for that now. I've been bed-ridden for nearly 48 hours and all I can hear is my stomach making the oddest gurgling noises. My stomach likes the breast of a chicken, not the butt of a duck or something.

Language Barrier. I thought I had a pretty good grasp of the "Spanish Language". As defined by the American education system I would have a 4.0. Riiiight. I'm staying in a flat/hostel/apartment until I find a place to call home for 5 months. As I call on rooms for rent I have to speak to them in Spanish. If I can manage to get past that stage and set up a time to look at the room, I go and they explain everything about the apartment in Spanish. I'm really fluent in two phrases: "Como?" "What did you say?" or "Repita por favor" "Please repeat everything you just said." The search for a room and a set of friends continues...