Blat and Bleu: A Spain Story

Spain Roundup!

The Good

-Spaniards have architectural inferiority issues, and I love it!
-everything is old (I love old stuff)
-jamón
-white nest hostel in Granada
-no one smokes in Barcelona
-cute bumble bee taxi’s in Barcelona
-Ave high speed train
-Mojito at Bar El 2 in Madrid was the best in Spain
-My love for Jews has been reaffirmed
-hop on hop off tours were so much fun!
-wee-fee (how they say wi-fi in Spain)
-Montjuic
-Australians are LOUD.
-Fanta Naranja
-Fabi!
- Bleu is a HOOT after a couple piña coladas
-Gardens
-Statues

The Bad & Somewhat Ugly

-kinda iffy on Canadians (ladies, you know who you are)
-jamón (they have ham every which way imaginable, but it’s impossible to find a turkey sandwich)
-caca en la calle (dog poo in the streets)
-Creepy hipster w dog at train station
-Coins! I sounded like a piggy bank half the time
-no such thing as free water
-no Guinness :( only Mahou
-Barcelona was rainy most of our stay
-everyone smokes in Madrid and Granada
-nothing is on time in Spain

Things I’ll never live down:

“La cuenta please”
“it’s like riding a bike…with your mouth” -about Blat remembering Spanish
“How do you spell “butt cheek?’”

Blat: “We should go and get a hookah.”
Loud Aussies: ” We should get a what?! A hookuh?”
Blat: “No a hookah. I pronounce my “r”s guys…”

Things I Will Never Live Down

“It’s like Batman, but with a ‘t’”.

“Boston! Can I have a red wine?”

“How do you spell butt cheek?”

“You’d be a Granadian. Not a Canadian.”

::facepalm::

-Bleu

Last day in Spain :(

*sad face*

Blat: Bleu, I’m sad. I know we’re in Spain and all, but I keep thinking about (blahblahblah).

Bleu: How do you spell “butt cheek?”

BlatBleu

Sean (hostel roomie): Why do you call her Bleu?

Words of Wisdom

“I think time just goes more quickly here because we’re in the future.” -Blat

Barcelona!

Good news: BARCELONA.

Bad news: It’s raining.

our last night in granada :(

Granada is my favorite place in Spain. It has everything. Picturesque views of old buildings, huge department stores, hippies with dogs, old people with dogs… lots of dogs!! I can be in one part of town with old buildings and pedestrian-only streets and five minutes later on foot be in the center of the city.

Bleu and I are staying in the Albaicin, one of the oldest parts of the city. Cobblestone streets, amazing views of the Alhambra from below and some of the most totes adorbs pubs and cafes. Long ago, it was the Moorish quarter of the town. Now, it’s where the hippies sell jewelry and art they make.

Since we’re in southern Spain now, there are more immigrants I’ve noticed from the north of Africa. There are lots of bazaar type shops near our hostel and up by the Alhambra run by people from Morocco. (The affectionately nicknamed Poo Purse came from one of these shops. It’s camel leather and needs to air out a bit so it smells less earthy.) They have cool tapestries, tea sets, hookahs… and hippie pants. Like the baggy harem pants hippies in Granada love. There are also some cool decorative mirrors i’d love to get if i were 100% sure they would not break.

We’ve taken it pretty easy the last few days, but today we have a semi-agenda. Eat chirimoyas (check), go to the catedral and royal chapel (tombs of Isabella and Ferdinand) and climb up to the Mirador of San Nicolas and watch the sun set over the Alhambra. Then, FLAMENCO SHOW!!

Also, Bleu bought a super sexy red dress.

-Blat

spanish

Time for one of those deep posts. I feel like people are always impressed that I speak another language. Correction: i like to impress people by being bilingual. Not that i’m all about the espanol 24/7 - i don’t shove it down anyone’s throat. But i am very proud that it is something i can do. Or was?

You know that phrase use it or lose it? Totes true. I haven’t practiced speaking much in Spanish at all since i graduated. Getting back here was such a trip… words did not roll off my tongue quite as easily as they did when i lived here. I feel like i’m getting the hang of it the more i am here. I’m just tired of being confused, of asking for clarification every time someone says something. Reading and writing is one thing, but speaking is something else.

I met up with my host family today and later on my best friend from when i lived in Spain. I had an amazing day with them. I loved introducing them to Bleu. But i had this nagging feeling the entire day that i let my language skills decline. I can still have a conversation, ask for directions - that sort of thing. But i miss that feeling of comfort, of fluidity. Of finding it easier to think in another language than your own.