Television

Every Wednesday evening, 6-7, I had a phonetics class with other Americans from our program. The class was in centre ville, so we had a 25 minute walk back to Cuques, our dorm.
Wednesday also happens to be garbage night in centre ville.

One evening, as we were walking back from class, we found a television on the side of the road by the trash. It had about a 25 in screen, and there appeared to be nothing wrong with it. So we decided, what the heck, lets pick it up and carry it the 2.5 miles home and see if it works.

I was with Frank, who is about 6ft4, and several girls who are closer to my height. It took 2 girls on one side, and Frank just about bent double on the other, to carry this thing. We managed for a few blocks, but it was bulky and there was just too much of a height difference. So we decided to try taking it on the small public Cuques bus.
The bus pulled up, and we loaded this thing onto it. Come to think of it, I'm not even sure any of us paid the bus fair. We made for quite a sight- all obviously foreign and toting a large television. The TV didn't fit past the front aisle section, so we left it on the ground there, creating a bottleneck. People had to climb over it in order to get off the bus. It was also blocking people from going down the aisle to the seats in the back, so pretty soon the front end of the bus got crowded. We rode in awkward silence... just standing around staring at this television, when finally another passenger asked "est-ce qu'il marche?"..."does it work?"
"on ne sais pas" -we have no idea
We started laughing.
When we got to our stop, we lifted the TV up and slowly hoisted it off of the bus (a bunch of people had to get off then get back on before we could get it down the stairs...)
We then balanced the TV on top of a rolling trashcan, and rolled it from the bus stop to the front of the dorm.
Then we had to carry it up 4 flights of stairs. I took turns rotating with the three other girls, going up backwards, while frank pushed from beneath. We had to stop and rest on each landing. There was lots of swearing, sweating, and grunting, and we almost dropped the damn thing about a dozen times.
we finally got it to Franks floor (only then did someone come out and offer to help us), and into his room.
The next day he hooked it up, went to FNAC and bought a cable, and sure enough- it worked! We celebrated by gathering to watch a soccer game. The color was off, so the turf looked orange, but we got a decent selection of channels. SCORE!

Spain: the untold saga

I did not go straight home from Morocco. My friends left late in the evening, I stayed on alone. I went on a group tour the next day, spent the night alone, then flew to Barcelona early the next morning. I only spent 3 days in Spain, but they were 3 of the most eventful days of the entire year! (and given how much i packed in, that's saying something!)
so here it goes:

Spain, the untold saga


I arrived in Barcelona mid-afternoon, and took a train from Girona airport into the city. I walked out of the train station, stopped to get my bearings, and was approached by an elderly English couple. They were just leaving town, had an extra subway pass, and thought that I looked foreign and confused enough to need it. They were right! I used it the following day on the next leg of my trip.

I started walking, feeling optimistic, and stopping along the way to snap a few photos of Placa Catalunya and do some window shopping. I checked into my hostel (you had to pay extra for sheets... I am still bitter) and set out for a (different) train station, to buy a ticket to go to San Sebastian the next morning. I took a number, and saw that there would be a long wait. I was hungry, though I didn't want to leave the station to look for food. So- i'm not proud of this, but it happened- I bought McDonalds. ick.
Finally got my ticket (luckily the salesperson spoke french!) and set out to explore the city.
Of all of the cities I have visited, Barcelona may have the most beautiful architecture. (disclaimer: Gaudi is my hero. I am biased). With only one day in the city, I decided to make architecture my priority, and walked over to Gaudi's Casa Batllo, where I coughed up 7 euro admission. It was worth every centime. Gaudi's fluid lines and whimsical details had me all in a tizzy. The organic forms and textures turned the entire house into a seussical creature, and there we were exploring its innards. Smooth creamy walls, dark twisting wood, swirling blue glass and tiles. The highlight was the rooftop- a maze of chimneys and mozaics, with a wonderful view of the city skyline.
By the time i emerged, it was close to dinner time. I stopped and ate a rather disappointing meal at a dive cafe (never trust a picture menu... still not sure what I ate). I walked through Barri Gotic, the medieval city center, and stopped to listen to several street musicians. My favorite was a man on a very tinny piano, outside of a cathedral. Next to him was an elderly gentleman with a cane, who had to have been at least 75. As the pianist started playing a ragtime tune, the old man started tapping his feet. Then he started doing a small shuffle step, side to side. Then he lifted his cane, holding it before him with both hands, and started doing a (shuffling) tap dance! I am not sure whether he was part of the show or just an enthusiastic by-stander, but I'd prefer to think he was the later, and that I witnessed something spontaneous.
Then I walked along Las Ramblas, a lively (but touristy) tree lined boulevard which leads to the waterfront. I saw the Columbus Column (oh, right, he was Spanish and not American.) I walked along Port Olympia until it got dark. On my way home, I passed an Irish pub with a sign in the window announcing that they'd be showing a rugby game between Wales and France on the tele that evening. I looked at my watch, realized it was about to start, and ducked in. There were surprising number of Welsh fans in the pub, and they all stood as their national anthem was sung at the start of the game.
They were not at all what I would have expected- mostly middle aged women in red turtlenecks and sweaters who swore like sailors and cheered like hooligans. After seeing how aggressive they were, I wasn't surprised when France lost. I walked back to the hostel and fell instantly asleep.
I got up early the next morning and took the subway (thank you elderly british couple!) back to the train station.
As I was getting on the subway with my bags, I checked the time on my cellphone. I didn't want to miss my train! Then I put my phone back in my jacket pocket. As I was getting off of the subway, I put my hand back in my jacket pocket... and my phone was gone!! I had heard of Barcelona's problems with pick pockets, so I had stowed everything else of value deep in the heart of my overstuffed backpack. And I had made sure to stand apart from the other passengers on the train. To this day, I have no idea how anyone could have managed to sneak that sucker out of my pocket. But the sad truth was- it was gone. I was alone in a country where I did not speak the language, traveling to meet a friend, with absolutely no means of contacting her.
shit.
there was nothing else for it- I got on my train and crossed my fingers.

Le retour

Two weeks ago I found out that I will be going back to France to teach English. I leave at the end September, and will return home the following spring. This time I will be in Reims (pronounced raaahns), which is in the northeast, in the middle of Champagne region.

Allons-y!