Barcelona Bound: May 2009

Usually when I get around to updating this thing called Blog, it's after I've already shared my where/whenabouts with family and friends-- just now, I realized that I actually haven't talked to anyone at home in a few weeks so an update might remind you that I'm alive. I'm alive! Chupi!

(Looong sidenote: the other week on Postsecret.com, I read a postcard where the anonymous author admitted that when they taught English at a school in China, s/he taught the students outdated American expressions like 'bees knees!' and 'outta sight!' I am convinced that my delightful Spanish teacher Monica is doing this to my class, because every time I try out one of her sure-shot phrases on a Spaniard, they just laugh at me. 'Chupi!' is the latest in this string of mentiras.)

So the last couple of weeks have been a travel/love/music frenzy (and them's the kind of frenzies I like!). First the pisomates and I island-hopped to Ibiza, an island that according to Ryan is where "all da flyest celebz get theyz spring breaky on." At least I'm pretty sure that's what he said. Although hedonistic clubbing season in Ibiza doesn't officially start until June, we still had a pretty magical time, hanging out around the pool and beach, FINALLY actually swimming in the Mediterranean, and taking in the more relaxed nightlife.

Three days after getting back from Ibiza, I headed to Paris, where I met up with Lucy and Sara. Lucy and I visited Paris last year for spring break, so we didn't feel like we had to squeeze a lot of sightseeing in the short visit. Instead, we celebrated France the only way know how, which was to visit a big American festival (read about it here) where we ate hot dogs, saw a gospel concert, and watched some poor Frenchies get completely owned by a mechanical bull, among other things. Don't worry about my brain-- we also saw a David Lachapelle photo show that was really interesting and visited the Picasso museum. OOH ooh, and we learned how to make crepes. An interesting thing that I realized during the trip is that, although being in Barcelona this semester has made me think that I don't really want to live anywhere but the good old US of A, being in Paris is different for me. I still think it's more likely that I'll set up shop in New York or San Fran after school (recession pending), but if I end up with some adventurous guy or gal who eggs me on enough, I'll probably book a ticket back to Paris pretty quickly. This is after I make my millions, of course, and can afford a posh flat overlooking the Seine.

So that brings me to the present, back in Barcelona for one final week. I have some righteous (weren't expecting that word, were you?) plans for these last days, but I'm not feeling sad about leaving-- not yet, at least. For one thing, I still have My Euro Backpack Adventure waiting for me on the other side of next Saturday. So far, my only accomplishment in planning MEBA is buying a one-way ticket to Greece, but DON'T WORRY. I am really good at making lovers/friends (joke) and have faith that I will find a Grecian man who needs a nice young girl for keeping a clean house and making crepes (also a joke-- these really aren't funny, are they?).

So I still need to figure out exactly where I'm going, how I'm getting there, what I'm seeing, whatnot whatnot. But aside from that, I'm also more excited than I've ever been to get back to Omaha. Although I am yet jobless, I have wonderful family and friends who I'm missing like crazy, a few shows lined up and a demo coming out. That, and I'm ITCHING to get thee to a piano-ery and a gym. My fingers and thighs are ITCHING. Metaphorically.

And that about it. Might light your wrist.

I will probably write again before I leave Barcelona.
Love,
Tara

Cripes! PS's galore:

1. I never mentioned that in St. Peter's Basilica in Vatican City, Lucy and I bumped into Zach Lubeck, the SAME friend from high school who I 'bumped' into at Parc Guell in Barcelona. He didn't seem surprised in the slightest when I forcefully whispered his name across that large, echoey basilica. It is probable that he is following me.

2. I have been writing more songs in the last two weeks than I ever have in my entire life. They are just as mediocre-quality as the songs I already write, but now there are a THOUSAND!

3. Hello. I love you. Also, I just reread my last post and realized I type as I talk, which is like a sailor, and I want to stop that. No more gratuitous swearing. I'm a classy broad abroad!

4. My roommates are making fun of me for this blog. It is high time I join them in their reindeer games, so that's all for now!

xxxPIXxxx over 18! Holland.

gals in ibiza: l-r jess, emily, carina

Suki and I enjoying a roommates' sunset in Ibiza

if you think THIS is good, you should see our low 5

some crazyyy shit happened on this bridge, man. we stayed up like way past midnight.

picnic 'neath the tower of dreams

imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, arch. remember that.

i spied a daymers.

Aghhh. Sometimes this whole blogging thing seems too self important and a little redundant, but I just got home and am avoiding packing for Ibiza (I leave tomorrow at 6...which is 4.25 hours from now), so now is as good a time as ever for an update. Here it goes:

Let's start with spring break. It. Was. Amazing. By all accounts it was actually a second honeymoon-- I met up with Lucy in Rome, where we wined and dined on moonlit terraces, rented a tandem bicycle which we pedaled up to a great view of the city, and saw a bunch of touristy (but lovely!) sights. It was my first time in Rome, and it was fantastic. After that we took a train to Naples, which was grittier than Rome (her Roman uncle told us to watch out for scooter bandits, who apparently ride down sidestreets, snatch your purse, then speedily scoot back away into the shadows-- hoped for the entire break that I'd see one but never did) and covered in graffiti. We had a great time wandering around, trying not to look too robbable and exploring the cuisine. (Ahhhh. So good.) We stayed in a little bed and breakfast in Naples, and somehow ended up in the 'matrimonial suite.' Quite suitable for a second honeymoon. One of the days in Naples, we took a boat to the island Capri, which is about 45 minutes away. It was incredible-- as soon as we got there we wandered to a secluded little spot, where a line of boulders formed a little jetty. We climbed out onto the rocks and sunbathed like Roman goddesses for a couple hours and then went to explore the rest of the island. It's been a couple weeks since I got back from spring break, but just typing this I'm getting so nostalgic. It was perfect.

Anyway, I had a couple days in Barcelona to catch my breath after spring break before welcoming a few friends to the city-- Sara from Tufts, Jamie from Marian, and Connor. From my heart. It was so much fun to have them visit. I didn't know Sara very well, but it was so much fun to get to know her and have someone with whom I could reminisce about Tufts. This may have fueled my homesickness, which set in for a few days last week. I (dickheadedly) spent too much time looking at pictures of my friends back home on facebook and ended up in a kind of bummed mood. It's nice to remember that I love people enough to ache a little bit missing them, but still. I don't want to waste time being nostalgic. So I got over it by talking to Morgan, Audra, and Lucy, two of whom have experienced a little homesickness abroad and one who is going through a bit of it right now. We really do get by with a little help from our friends.

So I'm feeling better-- feeling GREAT, actually, getting ready for the last three weekends of my program (one in Ibiza, one in Paris and one in Barcelona), when disaster strikes. Not to me, exactly. But on Tuesday I was walking home from class at the university, and I went to turn onto my street, off the busy main street when I heard screaming. I took my headphones out and looked around to see where it was coming from when I saw a crowd of people swarming around a couple people-- a lady was beating the shit out of some guy, hitting him across the face with a big umbrella. I felt bad for the guy until I realized that he was holding onto the purse of a woman who was laying on the ground. He quickly snatched the purse away and jumped onto the back of a motorcycle where a driver was waiting to speed away. I went to call the police but realized that my phone was out of minutes (typical). It all happened so fast-- people were still screaming and swarming the woman on the ground after the motorcyclist fled, and it took me a minute to realize that the woman on the ground had been stabbed. My first instinct was to go try to help, but without the aid of a phone, a language in which I'm proficient, or any kind of medical knowledge I realized that I wasn't of much help in this huge crowd. So my second instinct took over, and I strapped my bookbag around my front and ran the rest of the way home, where I promptly burst into tears.

I really do love this city, but I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. The idea of someone taking my purse doesn't bother me that much, because I never carry more than like 20 euro anyway, but after the pickpocketing attempt (aww SNAP) on the subway, the night of the attempted break-in, and finally seeing this innocent woman flailing on the ground, my nerves are shot to shit. My good friend Leah introduced me to an idea a long time ago which has stuck with me-- she told me how she liked to call people butterflies because they are beautiful on the outside, and more and more interesting the closer you get. I always think of a butterfly as a boy who is obviously bad for you, but who is just so pretty that you think maybe you can save him. It was a romantic idea that I quickly dropped for its inherent silliness, but every once in awhile I see a boy and think 'butterfly' (typically not out loud; how uncomfortable). Anyway, I'm starting to think of Barcelona as la mariposa mas bonita. It's rumored that the architect Antoni Gaudi took over work of the expatriatory temple Sagrada Familia because he wanted to build a religious monument to save Barcelona, a city gone to hell for its loves of gratuitous sex and violence. I don't know if that's even true, but I'm starting to understand that sentiment-- this place is so beautiful, everywhere I look there is art and architecture and natural beauty. When my dad (far more observant than me) was here, he noticed artistic detail in small facets of the city every ten seconds. It's so strange that in this utopian city where the utmost attention is paid to beauty, people are wandering around, drugged out and stabbing each other over purses. I guess I'm probably being a little naive (and probably not spelling that right) right about now; most cities might be like this. But Barcelona, you are the prettiest butterfly. I want to save you.

These updates seem to be getting more and more emo. So for my non-violent update: My friends are WONDERFUL. I love them. I love talking to everyone at home. sQ's cd is coming out this weekend and they have senior reception: I LOVE you guys (especially seniors). Know that I'm thinking about you (and missing you in a non-pathetic, non-overly nostalgic way) this weekend and hoping all goes fantastically!

But now it's time to shower. Ibiza in 4 hours.

Love,
Tara

ALSO, some pictures from scattered occasions: