And just like that -- I'm suddenly busy...

I've only been in this country three weeks, and I suddenly feel insanely busy. I've spent today running around, hoping I'll make it to the next place in time for my class/appointment/whatever... How does this happen to me?

Here's the lowdown on everything that's been going on...

The work situation:
I've had an amazing amount of luck with the job search -- getting positive responses on the first day I started handing out resumes.

I've managed to get classes at a couple schools. The first is a smaller institute, where I have one class with 3 students. I feel pretty good about the class (well, today I do -- I think they actually had fun in tonight's class), and the director has been really good about giving me personal attention and guidance. I think it's a good environment for a new teacher like me.

The other school is a larger academy. They've given me a couple of one-on-one classes, and it looks like they're lining up one or two more for me. The advantage of this place is that there will be more opportunities to pick up classes.

So all in all, I'm up to about 9 or 10 hours of class a week, which is way better than I had expected.

The living situation:
I'm finally starting to look for a room to rent, and hoping that I can stay in the same neighbourhood, as it's lovely, and within walking distance of both of the schools. I've seen a couple of places, but nothing that has amazed me just yet.

And who could forget the social life?
I've met two other Canadians (one is a fellow teacher), and I've been spending some time with them, but I'm still trying to figure out how to break through the Catalunyan coldness and make some honest-to-goodness Barcelona friends.

Last weekend, the teachers from the smaller institute went to an Indian restaurant on a street off of La Rambla. The area was pretty sketchy, and we all went for a beer first at a bar down the street. We'd been there about 5 minutes when the power went out all the way down the block. 5 minutes after that, 4 cop cars went screaming by the window. My favourite part was that no one batted an eyelash -- we all just kept drinking our beer and chatting in the dark.

There's a little bar in the plaza near Carmen's place, which I've chosen as my spot to go when I need to write or read with a beer. The second time I went there, the guy behind the bar (Mexican, incidentally) said, so, are you moving in here, or what?

I feigned shock, but it was nice to be recognized and remembered...

Park Guell (Gaudí, part II)

This weekend I walked up to the Park Guell, one of the most well-known Gaudí attractions (second only to Sagrada Familia, which I have been to twice, but am not ready to comment on just yet).

Guell, Gaudí’s most loyal patron, intended to create a community of 60 or so houses. But the project was a flop, and the city took the land over as a park. A fantastic place to waste a Saturday afternoon, I thought, so off I went.

The first thing you see when you go in are two bizarre stone-and-tile buildings that look like gingerbread houses on acid.



The main stairwell is guarded by a tile lizard (I won’t put a picture – I’m sure you’ve seen it), and opens into a hall of columns (originally intended to be a market). These columns support the main courtyard with its snaking mosaic bench (said to be patterned after the indents of a human body in plaster). Off to one side is a grotto-like passageway carved out beneath the main pathways:







The best thing about Gaudí is the details. He makes these wild fantastical structures, but it’s the little extra touches I like – a ceiling mosaic, a hidden detail or an unexplored corner:



After an hour or so of gawking, I left most of the crowds behind and headed up a series of meandering paths (both intentional and unintentional) that twist and turn through the rest of the park. I wandered for 3 hours, accompanied by a soundtrack of Elliott Smith and Sacha. I even momentarily conquered my fear of heights to shimmy up the narrow staircase of the torre de tres cruzes and look over the city, and I spied on a young musician who sat among the trees and sang in French and Italian.

There’s lots more to see in Park Guell (I didn’t go into the house or the museum), but that will be for another day…

In more me-related news

People have asked how things are going on the work front. It’s going well – much better than I expected – but I’m going to hold off on the details for now. Call me superstitious, but I’d rather not talk about the possibilities until they are confirmed.

But suffice to say there have been some pleasant surprises, which gives me some hope, and still more determination.

It's the little things....

When I don't know where to put my fare as I get on the bus, I feel like an idiot.
When I find my stop without having to ask the driver, I feel like a genius.

I feel like a newborn -- I have to relearn everything. What does a supermarket look like? Where can I get a bottle of wine? Do pedestrians have the right of way? Do people look each other in the eye on the street?

It's all these unwritten subtexts and cultural codes that we take for granted when we are at home... All this relearning makes everything feel like a super-human effort (oh my god! I actually managed to buy a quart of milk! I'm the king!), but it's fun, too. And it makes you evaluate the semiotics of everything -- how many of our cultural symbols we internalize and understand without even noticing.

I'm curious to see how long it takes me to internalize the Barcelona way of life (well, of course it's closed between 2:00 and 4:00pm! I mean, who in their right mind would be *open* at that hour?). It's all about learning the rhythm of a city -- culturally, temporally and emotionally...

In other news... some statistics from my first day of job-hunting:

Total schools visited: 7
Resumes delivered: 4
Snooty brits who told me "only EU citizens" and hung up: 1
Times I was asked "where are you from?" (including the corner store guy): 5
Schools that were closed (between 2:00 and 4:00pm): 2
Schools that were on my list, but didn't actually exist: 1
Blisters on my feet: 1
Directors who introduced themselves: 2
Times someone couldn't pronounce my name: all of them
Schools that asked me to come in and teach a test class: 1 (woohoo!)
Kilometres walked: no idea -- a lot

All in all, a pretty successful first day, I think...

Tourist Days

I will have lots to say about Gaudí during my stay here, but yesterday I went up to the Casa Milà, affectionately known as La Pedrera (the Stone Quarry), so I thought I’d share some initial thoughts.
The building is part corral reef, part medieval grotto, with its snaking hallways and arched brick attic. There isn’t a straight wall in the place -- legend has it that when asked by a resident where to put a grand piano, Gaudí responded simply, “Get a violin”.

The pièce de résistance is the rooftop terrace, with its undulating waves of stone and anthropomorphized chimneys (see photos above). Here, stone is made light by giving it human form and an abundance of personality. The forms are at once oppressive and amusing, and one has the strange impression of being among friends.

Of course, when the building was completed in 1912, the Milà family who had commissioned it was aghast, and denounced it as unlivable. But then, what could they have expected when they commissioned Gaudí??

Down the street from Casa Milà is the Casa Batllo, another Gaudí creation and decidedly my favourite building in Barcelona. When I was initially considering coming here, I found a picture of it online and put it on my desktop to serve as motivation. Yesterday, I took my own version of the very same picture (and in fact, it’s now on my desktop). The building is said to represent St. George slaying the dragon, but it has always seemed to me like an underwater seascape – I’ve always referred to it as “The Fish house”.

I stood in front of Casa Batllo for a good long while, resting against a tree that perfectly fit the curve of my back. I think when I have moments of feeling frustrated or lost (which I’m sure I will), this will be the spot that I come to for inspiration.

Today is a strange day – I’m feeling a bit lost. There’s a saying in German that the soul of the traveller arrives at a destination 10 days after the body… I think it’s starting to sink in that this isn’t just a vacation.

Monday, I hit the streets. I am armed with a list of 28 language schools, copied from the phone book, and I intend to hit them one by one, and see what happens.

Keep your fingers crossed for me.

Spain – Day 2

So I’m here, and still can’t believe it. It feels a bit like a dream, or a stopover on my way to something else…

The trip over was fine. Alex and Laura took me to the airport, and I avoided bursting into tears by being mostly nervous… I’m going to miss both of those ladies so so much.

The flight to Munich was long and uncomfortable, and I didn’t sleep at all – partly from nerves and partly because I rarely sleep on planes. At customs in Munich, they barely asked me anything (except to see my return ticket), and I was on my way. After some confusion at the Barcelona airport (I went to the wrong baggage claim, so I had to go back in through security and walk down to the other terminal), I made it out to find Carmen there to greet me.

The weather here is fantastic – I had lunch sitting in the sun on Carmen’s terrace (pictured above). It seems I’ve also arrived during a full moon, though I don’t know if that’s good luck or bad luck.

Today, I’m getting started for real – wandering the city, getting my bearings, and starting to figure things out…

I wonder when I will start feeling like this is truly a reality?

Here I go...

My bags are (mostly) packed and I'm nervous as hell...
I'm on a plane this evening, and by mid-day tomorrow, I'll be sitting in Barcelona, fretting about whether I packed the right stuff and wondering what the hell I'm doing!

I can't wait.