In Preparation

Well, it's that time again. Observed is headed to Barcelona for a couple of months. This time I'm going with a group of students and will be serving as their den mother (I think my official title is "graduate assistant") as well as teaching a couple of classes. It will be interesting to experience a city I know so well through the eyes of students who are seeing it for the first time. Plus, there will be far fewer tourists than in August so the locals will be on display for all to observe. So much more interesting than pink British tourists. Look for more updates here once I arrive in Barcelona in a couple of days. Happy New Year!

Last Tangle in Paris

So, my last day in Paris. It was a strange day. I went to Montmartre (yes, the neighborhood where the movie Amelie takes place) against the very good advice of a friend who knows Paris well. Over some gelato before I left, he said "Don't bother going to Montmartre." I said, "But what about Sacre Coeur (the church there)?" and he said, "Eh, it's not worth it." Needless to say, I should have taken this friend's advice. I went, I saw, I left as soon as I could. Now, other friends told me that it was plagued by tourists but that if I wandered out of the tourist area, that it was a really cool neighborhood. However, I was accosted several times while trying to climb the stairs to the uninteresting cathedral by men who I guess wanted to sell me a friendship bracelet or some such thing. I don't know. Before I could say no, one had some colored string around my finger and was beginning to make the bracelet. He spoke to me in English asking me to be friendly, not like the Chinese. Apparently, Chinese people aren't friendly when a stranger comes up to them and wraps a string around their finger. I'm with the Chinese on this one. I said "NO" firmly and he said, "Come on, aren't you friendly" and I said, "Not today I'm not". I got away and on the way back down I thought I would take a detour so as to avoid these guys. I descended the steps that led directly to the side street only to come across two more guys, asking to take me for coffee, offering me his arm to walk me down the steps. I got out of there quickly.

Normally I am not so skiddish, but I was alone in a city whose language I do not speak. I decided wandering around Montmartre might be a bad idea, and annoying. Perhaps it's the American in me who expects violence and crime around every corner, but I didn't want to waste my time up there.

Before I made it to Montmartre, I was stopped by a French man as I tried to transfer from one train to another. He spoke some Spanish and wanted to tell me how attractive he thought I was, "like in a movie" he told me. He asked to buy me a coffee, asked for my address, my phone number. I'll admit I was flattered by the compliment, but also a little creeped out. Do people actually meet each other this way? I left thinking, I'm too closed. I should be more open. But then I thought, no way, this is how Jeffrey Dahmer probably lured his victims. I do not want to end up in a freezer somewhere waiting to be munched on by some guy. So, of course I was nice and smiled and said I was leaving soon and didn't really have an address. I was in between places. I thanked him for the compliment and headed off to Montmartre. Oy, what a day!

The afternoon was lovely, though. After a quick whirl around the Pere Lachaise Cemetery (Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde, Edith Piaf and others are buried there), I followed the advice of my gelato-eating friend and spent the afternoon reading at Luxembourg Gardens. What a beautiful place, and an excellent way to spend my last afternoon in Paris.

Romantic Notions

I went to Paris with this grand, romantic idea of writing in my journal along the banks of the Seine. I know, it's so original. For some reason, I had this very bucolic image of the river banks. I imagined painters and jugglers, maybe even a mime or two. I'm kidding about the mime and jugglers, but I did expect green grass and lots of wistful academic/artist people. Apparently I've seen An American in Paris too many times. What I got was concrete and grime, and some street people. Oh, and there were also some lovers who couldn't help themselves despite the polluted river below and the polluted boardwalk where they declared themselves to each other. Alas, no writing occurred there. Still, Paris was enchanting.

I spent an entire morning on my third day there at the Pompidou Center, checking out the modern and contemporary art. There were some interesting and thought-provoking pieces. Plus, it was sort of raining on and off so I figured why not hole up in a museum. Have you seen the Pompidou Center? It's this weird building with it's guts on the outside, at least that's what it looks like to me, in the middle of one of the oldest areas in Paris. Lots of pipes of varying colors and a strange but cool escalator encased in a clear tube so you can see the plaza as you go up. That evening I had a wonderful time with a friend from Chicago who is in Paris for a few weeks before school starts again. After dinner we wandered a bit around the St. Michel area (I believe it's part of the Latin Quarter), and stumbled upon this ordinary-seeming bar. We sat down. Ordered a couple of beers (a Maredsous for me! - delicious belgian beer for those of you who aren't beer snobs). And then, suddenly, this excellent jazz band began to play. We were thrilled, and a bit proud I think for having accidentally fallen into a wildly cool experience. So, while I didn't get to write in my journal about my deep thoughts on the banks of the Seine, I did get to listen to some very talented French jazz musicians who played with as much verve as any Chicago cats I've heard.

I heart Paris

Paris is amazing! I can't imagine how much more amazing it would be if I could speak French. Spanish works and so does English, but French would be better. I could actually hold entire conversations with people since they seem pretty friendly, at least the ones I've come across. In any case, I've been here a whole 9 hours now and I already know I want to come back.

I went wandering around le Marais today. That's the neighborhood I'm staying in. And then crossed a bridge and ended up on one of the two islands here - l'Il St. Louis. There is a proliferation of shops, restaurants, and cafes. I could have bought something in every shop, but I resisted (well, my pocketbook resisted). From the Ile St. Louis I crossed another bridge to the other island - l'Ile de la Cité. The Cathedral of Notre Dame is there. Beautiful, grandiose, gothic splendour. In a word: stunning. The light was perfect as it was late afternoon at this point. Pictures can be seen on my facebook page (which you'll know how to get to if you know me). I happened to be there right at the time of the Vespers mass. These women were singing and the incense was burning. It put me into a wonderful meditative state of relaxation. I wandered a bit more, and then found some dinner at an Italian trattoria/deli. I can easily imagine my brother opening a place like this someday. It's a little place, no more than 16 chairs, owned by a very friendly couple (French born, I think, but from Italian families). There was a deli case of various italian cold cuts and cheeses. They offered an antipasti plate, a few hot entrees, and an excellent wine collection. I had this wonderful roasted eggplant with sausage and roasted tomatoes, I think there was also some cheese on top (al forno), and a small green salad. Delicious! A glass of wine and some tea capped off the meal. It was so simple, but perfectly done. Exactly how food should be. So far, the first day (half day, really) in Paris has been excellent. Now, I just need to learn the language!

Tancat el mes d'agost

Everyone knows that Europeans take their vacations seriously, and if Americans could get past that puritan work ethic we've inherited we might also take our vacations more seriously. Don't get me wrong, Americans like to go on vacation. The great family road trip is a story shared by almost everyone I know. Funny, annoying, grating at times, the road trip is something we've all done at some point or another in our big, gas-guzzling American cars. However, I know very few people working and living in the U.S. who have more than two or three weeks vacation each year. These are cherished days off, but they are also days that people use on a piece meal basis. One day here for a long weekend at the nearest lake, another day to stay home and catch up on chores or your favorite TV shows. You get the idea. This, I believe, is the norm for most middle class and maybe even upper-middle class Americans. We don't abandon our normal routine for three whole weeks at a time (if we even get that much time). Europeans, however, disappear from their home towns for a whole month at a time (not ALL Europeans, I know, but very many of them). Barcelona in August is a ghost town, as far as locals go. There is an abundance (over abundance, I would say) of tourists, but very few actual residents of Barcelona. Most amazing to me is that stores and restaurants are closed, sometimes for the entire month and definitely for two or three weeks of the month. I've seen signs all over the city that read "Tancat des de l'1 fins al 31 d'agost" (closed from August 1-31). So serious are these store owners about taking their vacation that they are willing to sacrifice whatever money they might have earned in one of the busier months for tourism in order to get out of town. This would never happen in the U.S. Don't get me wrong, this is not a criticism. I applaud this point of view. Imagine the effect it might have if people in the U.S. would appreciate the benefits of an entire month of relaxation. We might be more neighborly, happier at work the rest of the year, more well-traveled and perhaps even more open to other cultures (that's a stretch, I know), and certainly we wouldn't be so damn tired all the time. We might even be able to relax our shoulders for a second and unclench our teeth. How wonderful, and unusual!

Feast of the Assumption

Today is the Catholic Feast of the Assumption, the day the Virgin Mary's body and soul was taken to heaven. This means that just about everything is closed in Barcelona except for the cafes, restaurants and gelaterias in the more touristy areas. After missing breakfast this morning for some much-needed sleep, I spent most of the afternoon wandering my way down to the port. On the way back, there was a small procession coming down the Ramblas in celebration of the Assumption with musicians and gigantes representing different characters. I left my camera in the room so I don't have any photos. I'll have to start carrying it with me everyday.

Barcelona is a glorious place when the sun is out, as it was today. I've never known a city that changes its personality so significantly without the sun. I mean, Chicago is a dreary, cold city for many months of the year, but it's still Chicago. The weather doesn't seem to change the beauty of the city so radically. It may change the mood of its people but not the city itself. Yesterday in Barcelona it was just dreadful. Ugly, muggy, dirty, grey like the color of soot. All the people seemed strange. Perhaps it was just the jet lag putting a negative filter on everything. Happily, that filter is gone now and the sun is shining brightly.

The Festa Major de Gracia (a cool neighborhood here) is this weekend so I think I'll take a walk up there tonight to see the decorated streets and such.

madrugada delirium

Perhaps starting a blog in the wee hours of the night after insomnia has taken hold (call it jet lag) isn't the best idea, but it seemed like the thing to do. Plus, watching olympic gymnastics just wasn't cutting it.

I'm hoping that these posts will help me keep track of my research experience here in Barcelona as well as serve as a place to report on what I hope will be interesting people watching, one of my favorite pastimes.

Last time I was here, one afternoon spent on a bench in the Plaça Catalunya resulted in two sort of entertaining encounters with strangers. The first was a very passionate cubano who fancied himself the second coming of Julio Iglesias. He was nice and not unattractive, but I could tell that he might get a little grabby if I had accepted his offer to go out dancing, or even worse if I had accepted his invitation to watch the sunset from the cable cars on Montjuic. Muy romántico! Grabby might be fine if you're interested in someone (maybe), but otherwise it's just annoying.

The second visitor was more hilarious. While Oscar, the cubano, seemed sincere and was probably a nice enough guy, Michel (a Catalan who grew up in France) was awkward and seemed a bit cold. He had sort of an engineer guy quality about him. He wanted to know if I would have coffee with him, and by that time I really just wanted to be left alone to read my book so I said I couldn't just then. Then he asked me what my sign was and when I told him Scorpio he got up and left. He didn't say "well, I should go" or "Scorpio? I hate Scorpios" or even "oh", he just sprinted off as if I had just insulted his mother or something. I found it totally funny.

Well, with any luck, there will be more Michels and Oscars in the Plaça Catalunya. I guess I should try to at least rest my eyes for an hour or so more before I get myself ready for day two of the time adjustment game.