Heathrow Airport is providing a grey, damp, unattractive people-filled background to the last hour of my semester abroad. It's kind of anticlimactic given how much has happened, especially in these last 3 weeks. Either way, I'm so excited to get home that I'm not really sure I grasp that this trip is ending yet-- maybe it'll hit me in a few days when I go to take the nonexistent Omaha subway, or when I'm craving some tapas, or have to pay for something with dollar bills. Probably not though; I think I'll just let this pass.
Anyway, I got to the airport fairly early, and although my computer is near-death (22 minutes remaining, hmm...), I figured this might be an ideal time to look back on everything for my last blog entry.
My last week in Barcelona was enjoyable but insane. I made a list of all the favorite spots I wanted to make it back to before leaving, but wasn't able to get them all in given the frenzy of finals and the photo show. I did get to spend a lot of time with my friends though, and was glad about that. On the night before everyone's flights out of Barcelona, we all went to dinner to celebrate, but once there no one was really in a celebrating mood. Actually everyone was crying except me. I felt kind of strange about that, because normally I'm the perpetual weeper, but I just didn't have it in me. I wanted everyone to know that I was sad to be leaving too, but I just couldn't cry! I'm still trying to decide if that means I finally grew up and don't cry every 10 seconds anymore, or if ... nope, I guess that's probably what it means.
Everything after Barcelona was a whirlwind, and there's no way I could get it all out on paper (actually I did, in my journal, but that is for me to know about and maybe show my grandkids so they'll know that old Grams Tara did some crazy shit back in the day)-- but I'll abridge:
My trip started out in Athens, where my friend Danny and I spent some time wandering around the streets, dining 'neath the Acropolis and asking the age-old question: ferrel cats or toothless old women? We still didn't know by the time I left for Santorini, where I met up with Lucy and some of the other Bologna gals. We had a magical time (I think it was me and Lucy's 6th honeymoon...7th?), swimming and taking a tour of hte volcano and watching beautiful sunsets. All very pretty. After that I headed back to Athens by myself, where I spent another four days seeing the important sights, making a daytrip to Delphi, fending off The Phantom Masturbator of the national park (by nailing him in the face with a bottle of apple Fanta. If you want to hear that story, I will tell it to you but probably not in the public domain). Those first couple days by myself were kind of tough, but I ended up really liking the independent travel thing, and made friends on days that I didn't feel like being alone. After Athens, I flew to Vienna, which is my new favorite city. The entire time I was there, I couldn't escape the feeling that I lived there in a past life. I am getting all nostalgic just thinking about that beautiful, beautiful place. The best two things that I did in Vienna were to go to see The Merry Widow at the state opera house, and to rent a bike which I subsequently got lost on. I stopped in a restaurant and asked if the owner could point out where we were on my map, and her response was, 'Ohh, dear, you're not on this map anymore. You'd be here--' and pointed to a spot about 5 inches away from the edge of the map. Whoops. It took me about 3 hours to find my way back to the city, but it was fun and exciting and I got to see a lot of the pretty towns that surrounded the city. After Vienna was Berlin, where I met up with my dearest, darlingest housemate Nick Lamm. We had a grand old time kicking it in the former Nazi and Communist capital, and saw some good stuff.
Is this detailed enough? Not detailed enough? This whole semester I've had this feeling that everything which going abroad entails is a little cliche, and keeping a blog to document my inner and outer change just feels so...tacky sometimes! AND my computer is dying now!
SO, last points:
I don't think you're tacky for reading this. I'm just tacky for being typical.
This semester was life-changing, but also not life-changing, and it was wonderful and beautiful and amazing but also terrible and ugly. Ohh life. Hello.
I'm sad to be leaving everything that habit has made me love this semester BUT
SOOOOO excited to get back to my family and friends and those God Blessed States of Murrica that are just bursting with pride and love and joy.
Enough feeling words, time to fly.
Love,
Tara
PS- No time for pictures today. Check up on facebook later.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
take a trip and multiply
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.
(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.Friday, May 1, 2009
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:
tyra drooled when she saw this one. no really! drooled.
me and lu in a boat built for two
adventuring to our secluded spot in capri
grotto azul in capri: the water inside it glows blue because the stalagmites (tites?) on the bottom reflect the sunlight
definitely engagment announcement material
the view from St. Elmo in Naples
Colin and Leighton in Girona... looking very guidebook
Jason on the beach back in Barcelona
Tufts love - DC, me, Connor- in Barcelona
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:
tyra drooled when she saw this one. no really! drooled.
me and lu in a boat built for two
adventuring to our secluded spot in capri
grotto azul in capri: the water inside it glows blue because the stalagmites (tites?) on the bottom reflect the sunlight
definitely engagment announcement material
the view from St. Elmo in Naples
Colin and Leighton in Girona... looking very guidebook
Jason on the beach back in Barcelona
Tufts love - DC, me, Connor- in BarcelonaWednesday, April 8, 2009
take off all your preppy clothes
My parents are here! They got in last Friday, and I've had the chance to show them my favorite places and have a few adventures, including sneaking into the Olympic diving pool and taking a beast of a cablecar up to Montserrat, a monastery at the top of a mountain an hour outside Barcelona. It's been so amazing having them here; it ended up being a good thing that they came for the first part of my spring break because with no school and my friends all gone already, I was able to spend a lot more time with them. I had a wonderful time with you two crazy kids, and I'm so glad you could come!
Now I'm in bed, updating this little guy because I realized that I probably won't be able to do it for awhile. Tomorrow I leave for Italy, where I'll meet up with Lucy (and Connor for a day, huzzah) in Rome. After that we'll head to Naples and Capri to hopefully soak up some sun and leave the stresses of European life behind us (juuuust joking, what stress?).
It's crazy how fast everything is going, but not that crazy because I feel like everything moves crazily fast no matter where I am-- why would anything slow down for my semester abroad? But after I get back from spring break, I have a weekend where about a billion people are visiting (where will I fit them all?), then a couple more weekend trips to Ibiza and Paris before finals and the end of my program. Since my parents are leaving tomorrow, I spent this afternoon fitting most of what I brought here back into my suitcase, which they will take back to Omaha-- I've decided that for my post-program backpacking adventure, I want to really do it right, which to me means spending the rest of the semester living with just the things that will fit in my backpack. Probably not very practical or hygienic, but an exciting and adventurous challenge, for sure.
Alright, well, keep it bueno.
Tara
bahahahaha
Now I'm in bed, updating this little guy because I realized that I probably won't be able to do it for awhile. Tomorrow I leave for Italy, where I'll meet up with Lucy (and Connor for a day, huzzah) in Rome. After that we'll head to Naples and Capri to hopefully soak up some sun and leave the stresses of European life behind us (juuuust joking, what stress?).
It's crazy how fast everything is going, but not that crazy because I feel like everything moves crazily fast no matter where I am-- why would anything slow down for my semester abroad? But after I get back from spring break, I have a weekend where about a billion people are visiting (where will I fit them all?), then a couple more weekend trips to Ibiza and Paris before finals and the end of my program. Since my parents are leaving tomorrow, I spent this afternoon fitting most of what I brought here back into my suitcase, which they will take back to Omaha-- I've decided that for my post-program backpacking adventure, I want to really do it right, which to me means spending the rest of the semester living with just the things that will fit in my backpack. Probably not very practical or hygienic, but an exciting and adventurous challenge, for sure.
Alright, well, keep it bueno.
Tara
terrifying
nauseating (ly cute)
nauseating (ly cute)
bahahahahaSunday, March 29, 2009
Week 11: In which I become the posterchild for the 'This Culture Sucks' phase of Tufts' culture shock diagram
It is Sunday, which means that a) everything in Barcelona closes down completely and b) the duplicitous assholes with which this strange city is teeming crawl back into their slimy Sunday lives as God-fearing, family-oriented men.
I don’t mean to diss the entire place; I am 95% in love with what I know of Spain, in particular with Barcelona and its frantic energy, hectic pace, and love for beauty/siestas/seafood. However, one thing that has really bothered me since I got here is the machismo. Actually, that word is a little vague in this case. I’m referring to the men who stand on street corners, sit on stairs in front of buildings, or kind of hover around on the beach and comment on my various body parts. My Spanish teacher is pretty young and cool (and thus more believable), and in her attempts to explain the somewhat infathomable Barcelonese culture to us she insists that these men are really just trying to compliment us, even if it is a bit sexist. It’s cultural.
I can understand where a simple ‘hola, guapa’ (the most common greeting) is a compliment. It’s when it’s followed with ‘your tits are like coconuts’ and an unwelcomed ass-grab that I think it becomes a bit more than a cultural annoyance. Really, I know I’m a guest in this country and am constantly reminded by the Arcadia staff that this culture is not ‘good or bad; just different’ from my own. However, I really think that if these leering idiots would get off the street corner and get a freaking job, maybe Spain’s unemployment rate (11.3%) and birth rate (1.37/woman) would get better—after all, nobody wants to hire or have babies with a cat-calling creep. I think that women get pretty good at ignoring this stuff quickly, but some of these guys will follow you for a few blocks, continuously calling out offensive things.
Anyway, so this is why yesterday on the subway, when a guy got uncomfortably close to me, I assumed he was just going to comment on the state of my tetas. I moved away a few inches (about as far as I could on the crowded train), but he kept leaning in closer. Suddenly, I realized looking down that he had opened my purse and had his hand in it. ComPLETEly pissed, I slapped him in the face and grabbed his wrist while I rummaged through, making sure that my camera and wallet were still in there. He hadn’t had time to take anything, so Kate and I jumped off the train at the next stop and ran out of the station. I guess I was pretty lucky, because so far nearly everyone I know has been mugged or pickpocketed in Barcelona.
Sigh. I don’t think I’ve ever been so homesick for the only slightly-immature men and knife- and gun-wielding (but polite) thieves of America. America.
Uhh… I am realizing that this is the worst possible post I could’ve come up with 4 days before you get here, Mom and Dad. Bienvenidos!
Tara
PS—I’m actually still having an incredible time. It just seemed like it was time to address this, since most of my other entries to date have consisted of oranges and smiles. Lit’rally.
PPS—
Jason. Amaze-on.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
how can you sleep at a time like this, unless the dreamer is the real you
It is one o'clock in the afternoon, and I got home a couple hours ago from one of the funnest nights I've had yet in Barcelona. My friends and I (along with every other American in the city) had tickets to see Girl Talk (an American DJ) at a Razzmatazz, a really huge, crazy club. The show, which started at 2:30am, was really fun; Girl Talk is such an intense and sweaty performer (not my mother's mash-up DJ, that's for sure). The last time I saw him, I ended up jumping on stage at the beginning and got myself a mildly embarrassing youtube video to prove it, so this time I made sure to avoid running up there with the other kids who did it... Anyway, fun show, fun people, crazy time. Basically about a billion people packed in this place, just dancing to themselves, having a nice time together. Beautiful.
After the show, I had lost all of my housemates but decided with my friends Ted, Colin, and Leighton to head to the beach for sunrise. Miraculously, we ran into Kate, Emily, and a few other people in the subway station... I have no idea why I'm name-dropping right now, what does this matter? So to get to the point, we went to the beach and along the way we found a couch in a dumpster, so we took it to the sand and watched the sun rise above the water, running in a little bit to cool off our hot-hot dancin' feet.
After THAT, I started home with Kate and Emily, but by the time I got there I realized that I was too awake and excited to go into a dark apartment, so I wandered around my neighborhood a little bit (don't worry, safe neighborhood and it was already like 9 am Sunday morning). I happened by the local bakery, where the owner was already up and setting out the day's loaves, so I stopped in and talked to him for awhile. Intercambio, SCORE. Anyway, I went back home after awhile, kind of sad because I knew no one else would be up to share in my joy, but alas! Dear, sweet Suki was up doing the same thing! What a great gal. We are up now eating oranges and smiling a lot and planning the next couple of days...
We've been calling this the Trifecta Weekend (later changed to the Quadfecta, followed by Cincfecta because we realized there was a lot of good stuff going on) because following last night's show is today's Barcelona futbol game, and JASON MRAZ tomorrow. I am leaping. a;sdlkfja;dsiguads. My vocabulary is small but my heart is big.
THENNNNN Mom and Dad, a week from Friday! Followed by the Amalfi Coast of Italy with Lucy for spring break, followed by everything else here, then Omaha! Then Boston! Then whatever follows!
Love,
Tara
PS- I haven't taken any pictures in the last two weeks or so, but since it is now officially spring, I'll celebrate with this one from last spring in Omaha. It is still charming.
After the show, I had lost all of my housemates but decided with my friends Ted, Colin, and Leighton to head to the beach for sunrise. Miraculously, we ran into Kate, Emily, and a few other people in the subway station... I have no idea why I'm name-dropping right now, what does this matter? So to get to the point, we went to the beach and along the way we found a couch in a dumpster, so we took it to the sand and watched the sun rise above the water, running in a little bit to cool off our hot-hot dancin' feet.
After THAT, I started home with Kate and Emily, but by the time I got there I realized that I was too awake and excited to go into a dark apartment, so I wandered around my neighborhood a little bit (don't worry, safe neighborhood and it was already like 9 am Sunday morning). I happened by the local bakery, where the owner was already up and setting out the day's loaves, so I stopped in and talked to him for awhile. Intercambio, SCORE. Anyway, I went back home after awhile, kind of sad because I knew no one else would be up to share in my joy, but alas! Dear, sweet Suki was up doing the same thing! What a great gal. We are up now eating oranges and smiling a lot and planning the next couple of days...
We've been calling this the Trifecta Weekend (later changed to the Quadfecta, followed by Cincfecta because we realized there was a lot of good stuff going on) because following last night's show is today's Barcelona futbol game, and JASON MRAZ tomorrow. I am leaping. a;sdlkfja;dsiguads. My vocabulary is small but my heart is big.
THENNNNN Mom and Dad, a week from Friday! Followed by the Amalfi Coast of Italy with Lucy for spring break, followed by everything else here, then Omaha! Then Boston! Then whatever follows!
Love,
Tara
PS- I haven't taken any pictures in the last two weeks or so, but since it is now officially spring, I'll celebrate with this one from last spring in Omaha. It is still charming.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
they say that love is all you need to heal your wounds
Erin Go Bragh-less today, but it's because I was wandering around the city debuting my hot orange bikini top (under a grey sundress, the blandest and thus most European-looking beach coverup I could find), a style which got me quite a few strange looks from the non-beachy Spaniards, the most conservative of whom are still wearing modified peacoats. It is a bit, 'ow do yoo say, que friki, because it is hot enough to skin a goat here (you know what they say, when you can't think of an aphorism, make up your own). At any rate, today I celebrated my Irish ancestors' conversion from whatever to Catholicism the way that St. Paddy himself probably intended, with a trip to the beach and a little Gossip Girl. Actually I'm still downloading Gossip Girl (only 4 hours left until this blessed machine delivers!), so don't tell me what happens... I only hope it's extra-juicy.
So, it has been a week. A bunch of stuff has happened, but it's so hard to remember, because it all just keeps going so fast! There is actually so much going on that when I try to go to sleep, I can't do it without help because my mind is racing so fast. Yikes. I guess in keeping with that quick-paced, fragmented theme, here are some thoughts on the last week:
- My photography midterm is due next week and I am having a buuunnnch of trouble deciding what to shoot. Ideas? Compliments? Thank you.
- Sunshine folk are happier folk. I love Boston, but being here has reminded me that as soon as I can, I'm getting out of that frozen, historical wasteland and migrating south.
- Topless sunbathing is legal here, and is not only for old women in Arizona anymore.
- Everyone in Spain thinks my name is weird. People have a hard time saying it as it is, so I've been going by 'Tah-ra,' which people still get tripped up on, because it has a couple meanings in the language already (one of them is a clothing defect...odd). My Catalan professor makes sure to stop and read my name 5 or 6 times every time she takes roll.
- My Catalan professor looks like the witch doctor in The Princess Bride's wife.
- She even has matching warts.
- Two of my good friends from the summer I spent at Berklee are becoming hot shit. I've kept in touch with Grace pretty well, and she just released a new EP that is a little too urban-folk for me, but still pretty good-- I especially like 'Baby Ain't My Name.' Listen to it here.
Gin is also doing really well for herself, I kind of lost contact with her in the last couple years, but I just found a couple of her music videos on youtube. They are strange to watch, because the girl she portrays in her videos is completely different from Gin in days of old. Veird. Anyway, I'm really excited for both of their successes-- check them out if you have time.
- If you're reading this, you know me and that means you probably know that even though I'm excited for my friends I am a little jealous and getting a little antsy to get done with school so I can do cool stuff too.
I feel bad for saying the Boston thing (although I'm not deleting it), because I LOVE Boston and all its cold-as-a-witch's-tit nuances. Although I feel cheesy and cliched for doing the whole 'I went abroad and re-discovered myself' bit, I think that giving myself a little space from everything going on back home has helped me to re-center a little bit. I've really fallen for a lot of what I've seen here, but it's also a good reminder that I really want to be in a place that has a big body of water, a big sky, a lot of sunshine and a bunch of trees in the good old U.S. of A. to spend my life.
AhhhI have to go DO THINGS now, like shower and get the sand out of my crevices, and study for midterms (oh, those are another thing this week), and go drink a beer (Happy Day!) and get ready for my girl-crush, Sara DeFo, to come tomorrow. No time for fancy, fancy blogs.
Love and kisses and a hug as big as a big, big tree,
Tara
PS- Because on St. Patrick's Day, you're supposed to say what you're thankful for:
In case you didn't know, the title of this post is from a G. Love song. Since I have my bro Ryan to thank for introducing me to a lot of the music I love, I'll...thank him. Thanks, Ryguy.
PPS- I already know what I'm going to be for Halloween next year, and you are going to be jealous. xoxo
PPPS- This is what three months without practice does.
So, it has been a week. A bunch of stuff has happened, but it's so hard to remember, because it all just keeps going so fast! There is actually so much going on that when I try to go to sleep, I can't do it without help because my mind is racing so fast. Yikes. I guess in keeping with that quick-paced, fragmented theme, here are some thoughts on the last week:
- My photography midterm is due next week and I am having a buuunnnch of trouble deciding what to shoot. Ideas? Compliments? Thank you.
- Sunshine folk are happier folk. I love Boston, but being here has reminded me that as soon as I can, I'm getting out of that frozen, historical wasteland and migrating south.
- Topless sunbathing is legal here, and is not only for old women in Arizona anymore.
- Everyone in Spain thinks my name is weird. People have a hard time saying it as it is, so I've been going by 'Tah-ra,' which people still get tripped up on, because it has a couple meanings in the language already (one of them is a clothing defect...odd). My Catalan professor makes sure to stop and read my name 5 or 6 times every time she takes roll.
- My Catalan professor looks like the witch doctor in The Princess Bride's wife.
- She even has matching warts.
- Two of my good friends from the summer I spent at Berklee are becoming hot shit. I've kept in touch with Grace pretty well, and she just released a new EP that is a little too urban-folk for me, but still pretty good-- I especially like 'Baby Ain't My Name.' Listen to it here.
Gin is also doing really well for herself, I kind of lost contact with her in the last couple years, but I just found a couple of her music videos on youtube. They are strange to watch, because the girl she portrays in her videos is completely different from Gin in days of old. Veird. Anyway, I'm really excited for both of their successes-- check them out if you have time.
- If you're reading this, you know me and that means you probably know that even though I'm excited for my friends I am a little jealous and getting a little antsy to get done with school so I can do cool stuff too.
I feel bad for saying the Boston thing (although I'm not deleting it), because I LOVE Boston and all its cold-as-a-witch's-tit nuances. Although I feel cheesy and cliched for doing the whole 'I went abroad and re-discovered myself' bit, I think that giving myself a little space from everything going on back home has helped me to re-center a little bit. I've really fallen for a lot of what I've seen here, but it's also a good reminder that I really want to be in a place that has a big body of water, a big sky, a lot of sunshine and a bunch of trees in the good old U.S. of A. to spend my life.
AhhhI have to go DO THINGS now, like shower and get the sand out of my crevices, and study for midterms (oh, those are another thing this week), and go drink a beer (Happy Day!) and get ready for my girl-crush, Sara DeFo, to come tomorrow. No time for fancy, fancy blogs.
Love and kisses and a hug as big as a big, big tree,
Tara
PS- Because on St. Patrick's Day, you're supposed to say what you're thankful for:
In case you didn't know, the title of this post is from a G. Love song. Since I have my bro Ryan to thank for introducing me to a lot of the music I love, I'll...thank him. Thanks, Ryguy.
PPS- I already know what I'm going to be for Halloween next year, and you are going to be jealous. xoxo
PPPS- This is what three months without practice does.
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