Barcelona Bound: love like this

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: