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Language Learning: Part I

Native Spanish speakers who are learning English often have problems with the different pronunciations of these words. They can be confused in both listening and speaking. However, some are likely to cause a bigger problem than others. I've tried to reassure my friends that, as they already have a bit of an accent, we will understand what they mean to say.


A Short List:


-Kitchen and Chicken

-Sheet and Shit

-Beach and Bitch

-Wander and Wonder

-Bear, Bird, Beer, and Beard.
This one even has a game associated with it. Each word has a corresponding hand motion. The speaker has to match the name with his or her partner's hand motion. The one for Bear is as if you had a bear paw and were batting something. The one for Bird is as if you were flying. The one for Beer is as if you were drinking a beer. And the one for Beard is as if you are stroking your beard. Try it yourself!

- When -ed is at the end of words, it is sometimes pronounced as with the e as its own syllable when we would drop it and directly say the d.

-I've also noticed confusion in the meanings of the words earn and win. In Spanish, they are both ganar. Sometimes those learning English will say, "How much money do you win (at your job)?"

-Another common problem is using the word to make for situations that need to do or to have. In Spanish, the verb is often just hacer, which translates as to make. Some common sentences are, "Let's make a party!" or "Let's make yoga!"
(The correct version being, "Let's have a party!" and "Let's do yoga!")
The worst part about this one is that sometimes I catch myself saying it the wrong way too because I'm trying to match the speaker's level of English!

Some Differences Between Spain and the US: Part I

Communication/Media

In Spain:

-Facebook is used more often to communicate with friends

-This is probably due to the fact that unlimited texts plans are not common

-People use many more !!!! and ??? when texting or writing on Facebook walls

-Cell phone companies do not give upgrades every two years or with the signing of a new contact. Buying a new phone is a big deal

-I usually get news headlines through Facebook’s news feed and my friend's statuses. Such things as, finding out if the Chargers won, what celebrity has died recently, what the weather is like, etc.

-News about celebrities is much less prevalent. I usually have no idea what is happening, unlike the US where I am inundated with information

-The best time to talk to people at home is later in the evening, which can lead to very late nights

-There are many locutorios where you can use the Internet, or make cheap international phone calls

-Magazines are bought from newsstands, which are green and very easy to find

-Movies, unless they are a blockbuster like Harry Potter, come out a few months later

-There are many more films from other European countries

-Films can be VOS (original language) or dubbed in Spanish

-English books are not easily available and they are very expensive. They are bought from England (priced in the pound) then transferred to Europe and priced in the Euro, which increases the price. Then the Euro must be converted into dollars and the price is increased again. A Kindle comes in handy!

-In order to exchange money through banks, checks are not written. You give the person your complete bank account number and the money is taken out or transferred in

-It is necessary to carry change, as the 1 and 2 Euro coins are used often

Look for future editions on grocery shopping, my apartment, training and more.

A Mystery Solved

I was driving to practice a few weeks ago and heard this song. I found it intriguing, as the girl kept repeating, spoken-word style, 'What the Fuck.' Curiously, it was uncensored, which maybe isn't that unusual outside of the US. My interest was piqued when she started talking about being in Spain and partying, etc. This girl was explaining part of my life here! I didn't think to Shazam it (and likely my phone was in the trunk anyway). All I could remember is that she said, 'what the fuck,' and talked about Spain. So I tried to find it on google. But of all the lines of a song to remember when you don't know it's title, I think 'What the Fuck' might only be behind 'I Love You' as the worst lyric of all time.

I don't know how I finally accomplished it. (Well, I do. A youtube search of "what the fuck," Spain, song, party). Still, not an easy mystery to solve.

Check out why this song caught my attention:

Another Taste of Spanish Culture

The common perception of European music by Americans is that it is some sort of bad techno/house music. However, a lot of the songs are American imports, though not often the heavy-duty rap. The rest are from England or a variety of other European countries (i.e. David Guetta from France). In fact, I actually quite enjoy the "Euro" music when I am over here. It is danceable, but doesn't feel like it requires full-on dirty hip-hop dancing. The same songs are repeated here ad nauseum, just as in the United States, yet somehow it takes songs even longer here to be pulled from the rotation. For example: The Black Eyed Peas' I've Gotta a Feeling still draws cheers whenever it comes on in a club. (Why? I don't know). The radio station in Barcelona dedicated to this music is RadioFlaixbac (pronounced Radio Flash Back). Among the people I know, this is the most popular radio station. You can check the top 30 songs on the website (careful: it's in Catalan!).

For your listening/viewing pleasure, here are two more recent Euro songs that are popular right now:

Mr. Saxobeat by Alexandra Stan

 Hello by Martin Solveig and Dragonette

Halloween, for the Rest of the World

One of the many Sitges costumes

            On Sunday, I travelled by train to Sitges, a small beach town just south of Barcelona. This weekend was Carnaval and for that Sitges is the place to be. The best thing I can liken it to is Halloween in West Hollywood.

Carnaval is a much bigger holiday in Spain than Halloween. Although people know what Halloween is, most people don’t celebrate it. When I went out for Halloween, I’d say only one in ten people were dressed in costume. Carnaval, on the other hand, feels much more like Halloween in elementary school, where everyone is dressed as something, including the adults. It was fun to walk around this weekend, as I saw a great variety of costumes.

A Sampling of Spanish Culture

Here is an advertisement that I often see when watching TV in Spain. Imagine not knowing ahead of time that this is an IKEA ad. Enjoy.

And If You Read Italian,

I present to you the Italian version of Il Videogioco. (Special thanks to Andrea for her wonderful editing!)

            Quando la scuola iniziava, tutto è stato normale. Mi sono trasferita in una camera nuova e ho incontrato la mia coinquilina nuova. La mia coinquilina era carina e ci siamo aiutate muovere gli effetti. Ci siamo diventate amiche perché avevamo in comune che non ci sono piaciuti dove vivevamo prima. È stato lontano dal centro e da la università. Tutti degli nostri amici vivevano dall’altra parte. Se non vivessimo insieme, non ci conosceremmo. Siamo state persone differenti. Mi piaciono ascoltando la musica rock e guardando i film. Alla mia compagna piaciono ‘Anime’ e i videogiochi. Studiavo psicologia e lei studiava ingegneria.

            Siamo state insieme durante la prima parte del semestre. È stato più facile stare insieme che stare con altre persone. In settembre, ho trovato un lavoro. Vedevo Bianca di meno perche lavoravo fino alle dieci. Bianca giocava un videogioco chiamato il mondo di Warcraft. Lo giocava costantemente. Ogni volta che venivo alla nostra stanza, lei lo stava giocando. Ho imparato che lei giocava verso un personaggio nel gioco, che era uno gnomo con capelli rosa.

Man It Was Cold!

            As I was checking my email on my yahoo account on Monday, a news headline popped up, like this one, that said there had been a bombing Moscow’s Domodedevo airport. Of course, all bombings have a chilling effect, but for me this one was more personal. I have been fortunate enough to have never been near a bombing, but this particular one caught my attention as I had flown through Moscow twice last year. What were the chances that I had been there?

        Our second quarterfinal game for the LEN cup was being played in Khanty-Mansiysk. The first round was at home, so for the second game we travelled to the home of our competition: Siberia, Russia. This is crazy enough in itself. How many people go to Siberia willingly? And more importantly, how many Americans go to Siberia? Not only was I getting the chance to travel to a such a foreign and inhospitable place, one that few American ever have the chance to experience, it was going to be in the dead of winter. To play water polo. In a pool.

Warcraft or Il Videogioco

In the Fall of 2008, I took an Italian class in which I had to write a short story (in Italian) in some sort of surrealist manner. This is the story that I wrote in English before I revised/translated it into Italian.

            The school year started out normal enough. I moved into my dorm room and met my new roommate, who seemed friendly in an average sort of way. You know, not too nice that she seemed fake, but at least willing to start on good terms. We exchanged pleasantries, helped each other unpack our too-much junk for our too-small dorm room, compared DVD choices, admired each other’s posters, and lamented about the fact that we got stuck with the least desirable building. “At least we are closer to the supermarket than all the other people on campus,” she said.

            “Yeah,” I replied, “but that’s only better since we are the farthest away from the dining hall.”

            “Don’t remind me. I’m already sick of that food and we just got back to campus!”

For Maestro

The problem with having two homes is that you are always leaving something behind. The worst is close to the time of departure, when all that fills your head is what you are losing. Even when you know you are going to a good place and even when you know you are coming back.

San Diego has always been my home and always will be. I don’t think a move to any other place can be called ‘permanent.’ I don’t expect to live any one place in particular for the rest of my life. Because I don’t want things to always be the same. I want to grow and have new experiences. For now there is no one place that will keep its hold on me.

However, I keep my link to San Diego because I have so few constants in my life. But in San Diego I have some semblance of a family and a place I am always welcome and safe. I can go out into the world knowing I have a haven to return to. Its like what your mom is supposed to be when you are a toddler. The house that can store my stuff and my dad will be there and I can always go to water polo because I am always welcome there to be and to play.

There is one link that has been lost however, and that is my link to Maestro. He was a most unusual and extraordinary cat mostly because he didn’t act as a cat would. He wasn’t interested in playing, or in being cuddled, and his favorite place to hang out was right in the thick of things.

Columbus Day

Columbus Day was celebrated last month in both Spain and the United States, so it seemed like a good time to talk about some of the similarities and differences between these two different cultures that I am currently a part of.

I was surprised that both Spain and the US celebrate the same holiday. This possibility had never occurred to me. Well, of course, holidays like Christmas and Easter are shared across borders as Christianity is found around the world. But how strange it is that two other countries share a national holiday and that it’s even celebrated at the same time!? And what are the odds that I’m a part of both? I’ve gotten used to celebrating country specific holidays, such as Italy’s end of fascism, Spain’s day of the constitution, and the US’s day of independence – holidays that wouldn’t make sense to celebrate in any other country. It wasn’t until I remembered who sent Columbus on his fateful voyage that I connected the dots. It is clear why the US would honor the person who ‘found’ the country, but it never occurred to me that Spain would also honor Columbus. Spain doesn’t even hold any territories in the Americas anymore! Of course, once I thought about it, it is only right that Spain would venerate the person who started the movement that led Spain to have the largest empire at that time.

There are differences between how holidays are celebrated. In Spain, Columbus Day includes events that celebrate the glory of Spain. There is a parade of the army after which the King greets them. From what I have been told by my Catalan roommate, however, is that most people actually dislike this practice. Only the most patriotic citizens are in favor of it. She says that patriotic displays remind most people of the dictatorship of Franco. Since the Catalans were particularly oppressed, they are especially against this patriotism. A second complaint is typical to all citizens everywhere: the parade costs too much money for little return!

In the US, we always observe Columbus Day on a Monday and often now the holiday is not even observed. Instead everyone works as usual. In Spain, Columbus Day is always celebrated on October 12^th. Since it falls on a Tuesday this year, Monday is also a de-facto holiday. On Tuesday, almost everything is closed, very similar to Sundays. Monday, because it only links the holiday to the weekend and is not a holiday itself, is not observed in the same manner. Most people don't have work or school. However, some people work and more stores will be open. The same phenomenon is found when Columbus Day falls on a Thursday; Friday will become a de-facto holiday. Unfortunately, as the holiday falls on a Wednesday next year, the only day off the Spaniards will get is Wednesday.

This is a very different mentality than the US. Since I have been here, we have already celebrated three holidays. The first was La Mercé, which is the major festival of Barcelona. There were so many activities I couldn’t attend them all. There were the procession of the giants (Gigantes), the fire run (Correfoc), the human towers (Castellers), live music, performances, etc. Columbus Day (Hispanidad) was the second holiday, and All Saints Day was the third. To me it seems that the Spanish take any excuse to have a holiday that they can!

Postscript:

A roommate in Barcelona from last May shared this newspaper article with me. Basically, it says that Columbus had stayed in the same apartment as we lived in! I’m sure many people have claimed this, but this story has the added benefit of being written by a historian.

Sunday Funday

Today was supposed to be an exciting day in Girona at the All-Saints Festival, but instead this happened:

I broke the glass on the door to our laundry/balcony-like room!

Last night, I had planned to catch the 8:45 train this morning to Girona, where I was going to meet my roommate to see the Castellers at 11. The castellers are human towers built from groups of men standing on each other's shoulders. You've likely seen a picture of them. After the castellers, we were going to spend the rest of the day going to whichever other events of the festival we desired. Then I was going to return to Barcelona in time for Halloween.

However, that was the first plan of the day that failed. It had started storming at about 3AM this morning, and consequently, when I was planning to leave for Girona, the storm had moved north. I received a text from my roommate that it wouldn't be worth it to go because of the rain and wind in Girona. I was partially relieved, because it meant that I got to sleep longer (which is never a bad thing).

When I woke up, I was in a pensive mood, and it seemed like a perfect day to write. Sundays in Spain are pretty relaxed. Most things are closed and people spend time with their families. You can feel the mood even in my apartment, which is technically on the 11th floor (but it's called the 9th). There are less cars, less people, and the trains and metros run less often. Today, there was even the calm that comes after a storm. Clearer skies, cleaner streets, and fresher air. Even the sun was serene. However, this plan to write failed as well.

I was just about to sit down and focus. I had finished cleaning a bit, and although I wanted some chips to snack on, I decided I would go downstairs to get them later. So I went into the kitchen to make a coffee to increase my relaxed and cozy mood. I had opened the sliding glass door to the balcony for some fresh air. Now, often, if the door so the balcony is open, a breeze will sweep through the apartment and cause doors to slam. I knew this, and knew that it wasn't a very breezy day. I was careful, but not worried, when I left the kitchen to return to the living room. As I was closing the door to the kitchen to prevent the draft, the door to the laundry room slammed shut. I'm sure you see where this is headed...

The door slammed shut so hard that the glass in the door shattered and spread all across the floor of the kitchen. I cursed loudly, put my coffee down, and went back into the kitchen to survey the damage. UGH. It wasn't just cracked or missing a few pieces of glass. There was a huge jagged hole in the door with the pieces of glass making it look like someone had roundhouse kicked it. With my plans ruined, or at least postponed, I sighed and started to clean up the mess. I swept up the glass and loaded it into a paper bag. Then I had to figure out what to do with the gaping whole in the door. It's not like it matters to prevent thieves or weather issues, but I couldn't leave it like it was.

The laundry room is called a rentador in Catalan, or a lavadero in Spanish. It is a common element to apartments in Spain. They are usually partially open to the air and are where the laundry is done and other cleaning supplies are kept. We often leave the door to the rentador open, as it is nice to have fresh air in the apartment. There is no need to worry about rain because the type of wall we have prevents most rain from entering, and it isn't like we have anything in the rentador that matters if it gets a little wet. I realized that it was important to patch up the hole just to prevent any further accidents or more pieces of glass falling. Thus, my trip to get chips was expedited.

Still cursing, I went to the OpenCor market, which is one of the few grocery-type stores open on Sundays. There I found some plastic sheeting, but no masking tape. I wasn't sure how I was going to attach anything to the door without something stronger than scotch tape. Hoping for some luck, I stopped by the Pakis on the way back home. This one of the many stores in Spain that are mostly run by people from Pakistan. They have longer hours than the regular stores, but only stock essentials like cold sodas and beer, boxed milk, candies, etc. You could compare them to a 7/11. As I stop by this Paki often, I have made friends with the owners. So when OpenCor and the Pakis didn't have any tape for sale that was stronger than scotch tape, the Pakis lent me their personal packing tape.

I spent the time I had planned to spend writing fixing the door with plastic on one side and paper bags on the other. This was an adventure in and of itself, as the tape kept sticking to everything but what I wanted it to. Then I had to wipe down all the surfaces that might have had small pieces of glass on them. I had to throw away the open box of salt, as who knows if there was glass that got mixed in. And I had to wash all of the dishes that were left, just in case glass got on them too. Then I swept again for good measure. What an unnecessary chore! And the kitchen was just cleaned yesterday!

Here is the final result of my clean-up:

A patched up door

And a bag full of shards of glass.

At least I got this blog-post written...

A Visual Representation of Things I Do in My Free Time

#1: What takes up most of my time:

The books I brought from home

I've already made it through 5 books in the two weeks I've been here, and I still have 6 months worth of newspaper comics. I hope to finish most of the books before Christmas.

#2: Due to my roommate's insistance:

I'm knitting a tri-color blanket. It will unintentionally match my ikea comforter.

#3: Spanish class and intercambios

#4: Writing - for the blog but mostly for myself

#5: Playing the guitar and listening to music

My guitar skills are very rudimentary

#6: Sightseeing in Barcelona and nearby

My recent trip to Platja d'Aro

#7: Photographing polo

One of the best

#8: Eating good food and hanging out with friends

This includes shopping, going to the movies and the beach, and watching Barça

#9: Making fiestas

Apolo

#10: Doing anything else fun or interesting I come across

Book Review: The Shadow of the Wind

A few nights ago I stayed up until 5 in the morning trying to finish a book that held me enchanted. This book, part mystery, part a book of wisdom, and part a story of growing up, kept me unable to go to sleep without getting to the last page and reaching its satisfying conclusion. The book drew me into its pages in a number of ways, starting in a flash, and then building up steadily until the final burst at the end of the novel. This book, called The Shadow of the Wind, was recommended to me both because of its outstanding story and because it is set in Barcelona. There is no better time to read a book set in Barcelona than when one is actually living here. I read the novel with Google Maps open so that I could see exactly which streets the characters were traversing, but it would be just as thrilling with no knowledge of Barcelona. Though it was originally written in Spanish by Carlos Ruiz Zafon, I read it in English so that I could understand every word.

I was enthralled with the book in its first chapter. It included many things that I love in a novel, a strong beginning, mysterious places, and a love of books. It is only a few pages into the novel when I knew that I would thoroughly enjoy it. Daniel’s father takes him to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books, and describes it thus:

“Welcome to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books, Daniel” … “This is a place of mystery, Daniel, a sanctuary. Every book, every volume you see here, has a soul. The soul of a person who wrote it and of those who read it and lived and dreamed with it. Every time a book changes hands, every time someone runs his eyes down its pages, its spirit grows and strengthens. This place was already ancient when my father brought me here for the first time, many years ago. Perhaps as old as the city itself. Nobody knows for certain how long it has existed, or who created it. I will tell you what my father told me, though. When a library disappears, or a bookshop closes down, when a book is consigned to oblivion, those of us who know this place, its guardians, make sure that it gets here. In this place, books no longer remembered by anyone, books that are lost in time, live forever, waiting for the day when they will reach a new reader’s hands. In the shop we buy and sell them, but in truth books have no owner. Every book you see here has been somebody’s best friend. Now they have only us, Daniel. Do you think you’ll be able to keep such a secret?”

I love to read stories about people who share my passion for books, as they can understand the wonder that a good story brings. How time can disappear, and how even holding a book in your hand can bring a sense of contentment. They are people who love words for their own sake, who know the knowledge, wisdom, understanding one can glean from a well-written story. This sentence describes accurately the feeling I have when looking for a new book to read:

“I leafed through the pages, inhaling the enchanted scent of promise that comes with all new books, and stopped to read the start of a sentence that caught my eye.”

The instigating factor in the plot of The Shadow of the Wind is a book of the same name, which has a story that draws the protagonist (Daniel) in as I was drawn into the real novel. The description of the fictional novel gives a sense of Ruiz Zafon’s mastery of language and understanding of the power of words:

“My voice, rather stiff at first, slowly became more relaxed, and soon I forgot myself and was submerged once more in the narrative, discovering cadences and turns of phrase that flowed like musical motifs, riddles made of timbre and pauses I had not noticed during my first reading. New details, strands of images, and fantasy appeared between the lines and new shapes revealed themselves, as in the structure of a building looked at from different angles.” P. 41

I was disappointed that no more time was spent describing the plot of fictional novel, written by a secondary protagonist, Julian Carax. It is the mystery of Julian and his novels that drives Daniel throughout the entire book. The pacing of The Shadow of the Wind was perfect. The intense moments were spaced out with more pleasant ones. Fermin Romero de Torres, the older, wiser side-kick of Daniel, provides much wisdom and comedic relief. And about three-fourths of the way through the book, there is a revelation given about the outcome of the novel. Normally, this sort of knowledge would ruin the ending of a book, but this one was so perfectly timed that it only added more suspense and caused me to choose to stay up even later instead of going to bed. The mystery that Daniel uncovers becomes deeper and clearer with each retelling. The truth of what happened and each character’s impact on events is fully understood by the end of the novel. There are no loose ends to drive the reader crazy and no motivations that are left unexplored.

One of my favorite aspects of the novel are the pearls of wisdom that are dropped throughout the book. Fermin tells Daniel some of them and others Daniel discovers for himself. These truths are often ones that require age and a certain amount of perspective to gain, and it pleases me immensely to see them written here. I hope many people will take this advice to heart. Here are a few samples:

“I tried to concentrate on picking up the thread of the story. The hero, a cynical but good-hearted detective, was telling a secondary character why women like Veronica Lake were the ruin of all sensible males and why all one could do was love them desperately and perish, betrayed by their double dealings. Fermin Romero de Torres, who was becoming an adept film scholar, called this genre ‘the praying mantis paradigm.’ According to him, its permutations were nothing but misogynist fantasies for constipated office clerks, for pious women shriveled with boredom who dreamed about turning to a life of vice and unbridled lechery.”

“’A good father?’

‘Yes. Like yours. A man with a head, a heart, and a soul. A man capable of listening, of leading and respecting a child, and not of drowning his own defects in him. Someone whom a child will not only love because he’s his father but will also admire for the person he is. Someone he would want to grow up to resemble.’”

“Nothing feeds forgetfulness better than war, Daniel. We all keep quiet and they try to convince us what we’ve seen, what we’ve done, what we’ve learned about ourselves and about others, is an illusion, a passing nightmare. Wars have no memory, and nobody has the courage to understand them until there are no voices left to tell what happened, until the moment comes when we no longer recognize them and they return, with another face and another name, to devour what they have left behind.”

“But the years went by in peace. Time goes faster the more hollow it is. Lives with no meaning go straight past you, like trains that don’t stop at your station.”

“Look, Daniel. Women, with remarkable exceptions like your neighbor Merceditas, are more intelligent than we are, or at least more honest with themselves about what they want or don’t want. Another question is whether they tell you or the world. You’re facing the enigma of nature, Daniel. Womankind is an indecipherable maze. If you give her time to think, you’re lost. Remember: warm heart, cold mind. The seducer’s code.”

The Best Gelato?

In my travels through Italy, I have tasted many different types of Gelato. I usually go for similar flavors at each gelateria. I often order cioccolata, strachiatella, canella, or nutella. It is because of my penchant for the same tastes that I can compare and contrast different producers of gelato. There are your basic gelaterias that are commonly found in touristy locations. These gelatos are often decorated with something related to the flavor they represent. The kinder gelato has pieces of kinder, the lemon has lemon rinds, etc. These shops even sell fancy sundaes and may offer more flavors than a Baskin Robbins. All of the flair is used to draw in tourists who are just excited at the prospect of eating any gelato. If you read tourist books closely, they will often point you to the ‘best’ gelaterias in any city. Here, the gelato is made in house, with better ingredients. It is not the mass-produced gelato you would find in the other shops. Each time that I read about a fantastic gelateria, I make it my mission to find it and taste it for myself.

In Florence, I was told that both Grom and Vivoli sold the best gelato. Grom is on a tiny street in the center of the city. Its flavors change on a regular basis and they often sell different types of chocolate depending on the percentage and where the chocolate came from. Vivoli is also on a small street, but in an area that is much less travelled. It was very close to where I lived and studied when I stayed in Florence for a month, so I had more chances to try it. I found Grom to be good, but nothing spectacular. Vivoli’s gelato wasn’t any better, but I did find their granitas to be particularly good. A friend of mine was also told about a gelateria right in the heart of the city. To me, this one looked just the same as all the others, and its flavors weren’t any better. In Rome, I heard over and over again about a mythical gelateria by the Trevi fountain. I heard about it from my first visit to Italy, during my most recent visit to Italy, and in various guidebooks. Every time I was near the Trevi, I kept an eye out for this supposed ‘best’ gelateria. Fed up with my inability to find this place, I went on to google maps and found out exactly where it was. Four years after first hearing about this place, I got my first taste. And, surprise, surprise, it was not any better than Grom or Vivoli. San Crispino, as the gelateria was called, was not as good as it was said to be.

Being quite disenchanted with the phrase ‘the best gelato,’ I was in doubtful when I was told that Nervi had the best gelato and that I had to try it. Always up for anything chocolate-y, I accepted my friends’ invitation. My ride parked her mini cooper illegally because there was no parking (this is Italy). We sat down to order. I was told that I should have canella and nutella, a combination I approved of heartily. I might have chosen it without being told to. This time, the gelato really was the best gelato ever. All of the others had very similar tastes, and I couldn’t distinguish a better one from a worse one. The taste of this gelato left me with no doubt that was superior. I wasn’t able to try any other flavors, but for me it didn’t matter. I would order these two flavors every time. I was tempted to order a second helping, but restrained myself. So, if you ever find yourself in the north of Italy near Genoa, make sure to visit Gelateria Priaruggia at Via Quarto, 1.

(written Fall 2009)

Preamble to the Re-Awakened Blog

When writing this blog previously, I struggled with disclosure. What is appropriate to share in a personal blog? There are those who believe that no personal or identifying information should be shared on the internet. One could even go so far as to say that an opinion written on a blog could be sharing too much information. But what would be the entertainment and the fun in keeping all of the interesting material to oneself? I think a good rule to live by is to only share the things that you would be willing to share with a stranger. Something that you would share with a best friend might be something to be kept private. Would you care if your enemy had their hands on this information? No, then you are probably ok. Due to the rights and feelings of others, one’s personal life should not be shared on the internet when it relates to other people. It can be very difficult to tell what they would agree to share in a public arena. So, rule of thumb: only share things you are comfortable with having everyone know about you.

Now that I know what information to share or not to share, it is still difficult to decide what topics to write about and how to write them. It is one thing to write a journal to oneself, a letter to a single person, or even a blog that you know only a few close friends and family will be reading. And it seems pretty apparent the kinds of topics one should write for a very public blog, say a newspaper or other source for important information. But what about blog whose focus is on friends and family but might be read by complete strangers? How do you write to an unknown audience when sharing information about yourself? Normally, when telling stories or sharing personal information, one is able to know the audience beforehand and to gauge their reaction during the course of the telling. But how does one weave a story or address audiences that are unknown? I guess this is the struggle that a very private writer would have to make when moving into the public sphere. So, who knows, maybe this will be good for me. 

Barcelona vs. Madrid

Weekends in the fall mean Charger football games. In the last few years, the San Diego Chargers have actually put together a decent team. I say ‘decent,’ since the Chargers should have won the Super Bowl at least once, but always lose in the playoffs. Everyone has high expectations for them, but the Chargers never do as well as their hype. Most people in San Diego are apathetic about our sports teams at best. They only seem to care when one of the teams is doing well. Then people will root enthusiastically and proudly sport team jerseys. There seems to be quite a large portion of Charger fans these days; however, I think there are few die-hard fans. Many San Diegans are oblivious to the teams even when they are doing well. The Padres, unlike the Chargers, have been terrible for way too long. Very few people nowadays are proclaiming their support for the Padres. Probably most people go to games just for the fun of attending a baseball game, not because of their love for the team. I am not calling San Diegans fair-weather fans, just unconcerned.

However, things are very different in Barcelona. While there are some ‘haters’, most citizens of Barcelona root enthusiastically for their soccer team, F.C. Barcelona. I don’t think that the fans would be much less supportive of a losing team. However, Barça did very well last year. They won La Liga, the Copa del Rey, and the Champions League. The city went crazy when they beat Manchester United for the Champions League title, which cemented their treble. Everyone rushed the fountains in Plaça Catalunya. There was cheering and banner waving for hours and cars honked their horns in the time with team cheers. Even in less important games, everyone finds a place to watch the game. They go to the stadium, attend away games, watch in their house, or join friends at a local bar. The newspapers report detailed descriptions and explanations before and after each game and the players are revered. F.C. Barcelona also has the biggest stadium in Europe and can pack in almost 100,000 screaming Barça fans.

I had the pleasure of watching Barcelona play their main rival, Real Madrid, last Sunday. I am not quite sure which rivalry is more heated, F.C. Barcelona vs. Real Madrid or USC vs. UCLA. Both rivalries extend far beyond the field of play, so wins and losses have a deeper significance than just pride. Barcelona’s rivalry with Madrid extends even to economics and politics. I joined members of my club at our restaurant to cheer on Barça. The room was packed full of people who cheered and booed whenever something significant happened. We witnessed one goal and many fantastic defensive stops, as Barcelona ruled over Real Madrid 1-0. Because the club is near Camp Nou, Barça’s stadium, we were able to witness the massive number of people going to and from the game. Normally on Sundays, the streets of my neighborhood are quiet. Most people are just out for an evening stroll with their dogs. Every store is closed, so the streets are used for relaxation before the workweek begins anew. With the number of people out for the game, you would not know it was Sunday. It parallels what happens every Sunday in the United States, but with much more vibrancy. I guess I’ve just traded one type of football team for another.

The same weekend I also had my own personal Barcelona vs. Madrid experience. My team travelled to Madrid to play C.N. Moscardo. We took about an hour long flight to Madrid in the morning and were bused to the club. We had a long and relaxing lunch there and played our game at 4:30. We knew going into the game that the referees would not be unbiased. It is similar to a Los Angeles team travelling to San Diego or vice versa, but with a greater dislike. We found the referees were as we expected. I swear that I saw one of the referees smirking at some of the calls he made. I don’t believe that they were purposefully trying to hamper the game, but they did not make our lives easy. Luckily we won 22-12, but we should have let fewer goals in. I was glad to leave and head back to Barcelona after the game. The pool was indoors, with a warm air temperature and a much too warm pool temperature. I felt like I was burning up during the game. The outside was colder than Barcelona, so I was glad to head back home. A few of my teammates and I sampled the Barcelona nightlife afterwards to celebrate our win. All-in-all, it was a fun and victorious weekend for Barcelona.

Força Barça!

My First Thanksgiving as an Expat…

…was just like another day in Barcelona. Of course, I waited until the last minute to decide how to celebrate. I couldn’t make it to the Thanksgiving dinner held by the Hotel Arts, as it was during practice. Since the only way I commemorated Thanksgiving was by wearing new clothes for dinner, I will relate my day as an example of a typical day in Spain.

10:00 (or maybe 9): My alarm goes off and I hit snooze.

11:00: I actually wake up, get ready and eat breakfast.

12:00 I meet the other girls at the store across the street. We hang out for 5-10 minutes, before going to the locker rooms to change.

12:15 or 12:20, sometimes 12:30 (this is Spain): We actually start practice, usually in the gym. Today we lifted at 80%.

Between 1 and 1:30: We get into the pool and swim some before doing water polo drills.

2:30: Practice ends, we change, and my roommate and I go to lunch. Spanish tortilla was on the menu today. It is the best meal at the restaurant.

4:30: I am home from lunch. Today I went and bought shampoo during my free time. Wooo!

7:30: I head to the gym for extra cardio, if I feel like it. Today I used the stationary bike for a half an hour.

8:30: Again we meet at the store. This time we are usually quicker to get to practice.

8:40: We do more water polo drills or scrimmage. We played terribly against the younger boys’ team this evening.

10:00: Practice ends. My roommate and I go to dinner. New shirt, new pants, new shoes for tonight! I had to acknowledge Thanksgiving, somehow, since I am missing my favorites: turkey and mashed potatoes. And cheesecake. But, most importantly, monkey bread! At least there is Christmas.

1 AM or maybe 2: I am hopefully asleep.

Such an exciting life! The trick will be to use my free time for more interesting purposes than buying shampoo. Some examples so far: the Aquarium, shopping, dealing with my broken computer. But those are for another time.

Resonating in the Shape of Things to Come

This is my first blog post ever and yet I have more questions than I do solutions. What is a first blog post supposed to be, anyway? Does anyone actually read them? I imagine that unless a friend of yours sends you a link to a blog he or she has just started, you probably start reading long after the first post was written. If you are like me, you find new blogs through other blogs. Someone has to be reading that blog before you find it, it seems impossible that you would catch it while the first post is still on the homepage. After the blog has been running for a while, is there anyone that is dedicated enough to read that far back?

I can’t imagine that first blog posts are all that interesting anyway. Do most people give a short biography of information that seems relevant? Or do they outline what their blog may be about? Or do they just write something so they can say they have taken that clichéd first step? Or do they write that they hope they can find enough interesting material to write daily? Three-times weekly? Weekly? Monthly? Just occasionally? Or whatever their goal may be? There must be millions of bloggers out there. How many of those only ever put up a first post? Did it end before it began like a new years resolution to lose weight? Or is it like the xkcd comic where every post is an apology for not having anything to say?

And say someone does make it. He or she writes consistently for years. Writing skills have been honed and a ‘voice’ has been found. I can only imagine how uninteresting and undeveloped this first blog post must be in comparison and how many rules and conventions of blogging were unknowingly broken. So is a first blog post just a throw-away post? Just something to get out of the way before the real work can be done? Is losing your blog virginity always destined to be bad just like real life?

I know the answers to none of these things. But I can say, I will write about myself. I will write when I feel like it. I may write about the past and I may write about the present. And I may never have more readers than just my close friends. So, if you are reading this first blog post after the fact, how does it look from the future?

A special thanks goes to my friend Professor Chaos for inventing the blog name.