Joshua Zamrycki's Weblog

So how’s that for an update? I have no idea how long I’ve been here in this computer room, but I’m getting hungry. I think I’m gonna go and look for a space heater, buy some groceries, eat dinner at home, and then play volleyball at the gym with the team I play with. Like I said: if you wrote to me in the past few weeks and are wondering why I haven’t gotten back to you, worry no more. I promise I will. Soon. I hope you’re happy and healthy wherever you are. I miss you all.

Ahora por favor saque esas maracas de mi cara,
Josh

I now have a choice. I had resigned myself to staying in Spain for Christmas and spending the holidays with my other loser friends who couldn’t afford to fly home. But when I called my dad the other day and told him of my decision, he was very surprised. I guess he just assumed that I’d be coming home for the holidays. So I began to think. Do I want to go home for a week or so? Yes. So why don’t I? OK, I will. And the next day I called the travel agent to book a flight home. Now, I have to work up until Dec 23rd so I asked if I could possibly get a flight on the 24th. Christine, the travel agent, told me I was very brave for making such a request (being the day before Christmas and all). But when she checked the computer, it turned out that I was just about the only one who wanted to fly on that day so it wouldn’t be a problem. I booked the flight right then and there. The next day I told my friends what I’d done and they asked me how long I’d been here in Spain. I said that when I go home for Christmas it’ll be about 100 days. It then occurred to me that “officially” you’re only allowed to stay in Spain for 90 days and then you must return to your country of origin for 90 more before returning. So, if they choose to uphold the law (which they rarely do), I’ll be allowed to fly home no problem and then not be able to fly back when they see my passport. I’m working on some things now and asking as many people as I can what I could do. If it’s safe, I’ll be home for Christmas. If not, I’m going back up to Xavi’s cabin. I’ll keep you posted.

Here’s a little something I’d like to share. I helped my friend Osse move flats the other day (in the bitter cold). And since it was cold, I borrowed my flat mate Anna’s bright blue puffy winter vest. Now, to get to Osse’s house, I have to take the metro. As I was walking to the metro station I heard the train coming so I ran as fast as I could. I flew up the stairs just as the train was pulling in but all of the doors to the platform were closed (because of the cold). I tried them all: locked, locked, locked, open! I saw the train on the platform but I still had to find my metro ticket in my pocket. As I was fumbling around with my wallet I heard the train doors going, “beep beep beep beep” just as they do right before they close. I found my ticket, punched it at the turnstile, and made a mad dash for the door of the train. I felt as if the doors were going to close right in front of me so I leaned forward as I ran like a runner finishing a race. I made it into the car but then slipped on the smooth floor and busted my butt in front of about 50 Spaniards. I landed face-first on the floor. I quickly turned over onto my back and instinctively yelled, “Safe!” totally forgetting the fact that not only did no one on the train speak English, but I’m sure none of them could appreciate the baseball metaphor. As I was getting up, a man from behind me lifted me to my feet and asked if I was alright. I said, “Yes, fine, thank you” (all in Spanish now) and then stood in the corner of the car as all of the seats were taken. The worst part was that about 10 seconds after I got up the doors decided to close (finally). I couldn’t do anything except stand there with my scraped knee and hang my head in shame for five more stops as I heard everyone’s thoughts saying, “Look at that clumsy American with the bright blue puffy vest.”

It’s so cold here! I have no idea where it came from. Last week was beautiful and next week is supposed to be, as well. But this week is just about as cold as New York! It’s like 40 or 50 degrees! I think 12 people in Europe have died due to the temperature. The only difference between the temperature here and that in NY is that in NY, they have heat in their houses! I still played volleyball on the beach on Saturday

I was really having a tough time about a month ago. I had a great group of friends and was playing a lot of volleyball and was reading a lot, but I felt like I was sinking into something. A rut. I realized that it was because I was creatively stifled. I wasn’t drawing or creating or acting. So… Gaudi has got me drawing again, I bought a set of watercolors that I’m playing with, I made a cool table for my room, my long term project is to whittle a chess set that I’ve already begun, and I have an audition for a play here next week. I feel a lot better now.

“So” you may say. “Where do you get the money to do all of this stuff you say your doing? Do you have a trust fund you’re not telling us about?” Well, to tell you the truth, I finally buckled down and found myself a job teaching at a real language school that doesn’t seem to mind that I don’t have the proper papers. But if anyone asks, I’ve never heard of them. Not a bad set up. I get paid in cash and they don’t take out taxes. Right now I’m teaching four different classes.

1) Las niñas – seven little 7-year-old girls who are so cute but such a pain in the ass when they want to be. Very short attention spans so I have to stray from the book a lot and play games or sing songs.

2) Los jóvenes – twelve 11-year-olds who really make an effort, but are spoiled by a couple rotten apples. One word: Ignasi. I believe he’s in the running for the 6th grade antichrist this year. I’d vote for him. I’ve had to send him out of the class twice already and I have a meeting with his mother this week. That should be fun and productive. She only speaks Catalan. Not Castilian. Actually, I really like this class.

3) Los ‘adultos’ – four 18-year-olds who aren’t picking up English very easily. They’re only second year students, like many of my other classes, but because they’re older the books are geared to a higher level that they don’t seem ready for. I have to come up with worksheets to catch them up to where they should be.

4) Rafael – no, not the town fool from Arroz. This Rafael is a 40-year-old businessman who actually speaks English fairly well, but wants to increase his confidence because he has to give presentations to his German bosses in English. I’d say he is Upper-Intermediate and definitely conversational. He’s a really nice guy who needs some verb-tense help and more vocabulary.

So that’s my job. I only work Tues-Fri from 5:30-8 and I’m making more than twice my rent. Pretty sweet.

There’s Something About Mary finally opened here last week so Bob and I brought all of our friends to go see it. We saw it in English. The Germans and Spanish seemed to like it but the British didn’t. I loved it. Again. It takes anywhere from two to six months for American movies to get over here because of translation and dubbing and stuff. Antz just opened this week so that’s next on my hit list as well as a couple Spanish flicks. But the best movie I’ve seen here has been Los Amantes del Círculo Polar. It’s a Spanish film that’s just great! If you ever get the chance…

Last month I took my first trip out of town. Seven of my new friends and I spent the weekend at a cabin in the Spanish Pyrenees that belongs to Xavi’s family. It was Petra, Birgit (BEER.git), Ann Kristine, Antje (ANT.yuh), Bob, Jordi, Xavi (CHA.bi), and myself. We packed into two cars and headed north for four hours to this little town called Arroz which I swear couldn’t have more than 35 people living there. They actually had a town fool. A real town fool. His name’s Rafael. Scary guy. With a scary little dog. Anyway… the cabin was great! There was a fireplace and we had plenty of mattresses to go around. The best part of the trip was hiking. We split up for a while and explored on our own. Xavi and I crossed this river in front of a waterfall using only a stick, small stepping stones (quite far apart), and our wits. Then I climbed what seemed like straight up the mountain (next to the waterfall) with Bob, Antje, and Jordi. When we got to the top we rested and talked for a while, but on the way down, Bob has this crazy idea that we should try and make it without using any of the paths that we’d found. We told him he was crazy. After a few minutes the craziness spread to Jordi and me, as well. Antje was apparently the only one with common sense and said, “Bye bye”. I don’t know how we got into the situation, but I distinctly remember holding on to fistfuls of grass next to Jordi so I wouldn’t slide down the hill. Bob had somehow made it to the bottom by climbing trees. I still don’t know how. Then I remember watching as Jordi let go and proceeded to slide for about 50 feet until he stopped himself by hitting a tree. Feet first. He was fine. We eventually made it down to the bottom and met up with the rest of the gang just in time for a nice siesta in the sun. My second favorite part of the weekend was that night back in the cabin. We had brought way too much alcohol but were damned if we were going to bring any of it back. Then I remember a rousing game of Truth or Dare. Did I say rousing? I meant interesting. In any case, we’re all going back to Xavi’s cabin in two weeks to go skiing. I’m going to learn how to snowboard.

I would like to thank everyone for their overwhelming response to my plight for peanut butter. Granted, I only received two containers and a very thoughtful bottle of grape jelly (thanks Meg), but your concern warmed my heart. Luckily, the crisis is now over. Just last week I found a store here in BCN that carries peanut butter. It’s no Skippy, but it’s local!

I had my very first visitor from home stay with me this month! Shannon, a good friend from Binghamton, is studying in Sevilla this semester and decided to come to Barcelona for a few days. It was great. Not only did I get to hang out with Shannon for a few days, it gave me an excuse to do all of the touristy things here in town that I’d been putting off. I knew exactly where to go first: Parc Güell. This is a park here in BCN designed by Antoni Gaudi and it’s incredible! Fantastic is more of an appropriate word. What he did with this park reminds me very much of Alice in Wonderland. The buildings and fountains and columns and ceilings and mosaics and landscapes are inspiring. Whenever I have a guest here, this’ll be our first stop. I love Gaudi. Lucky for me I can see his stuff everywhere. He really does own this town. After Parc Güell, we went to la Sagrada Familia; a church designed by, guess who, Gaudi. I’d seen it before, but never took the time to go up close and appreciate it. The towers are so tall and thin that I get dizzy thinking about the people who had to work on it. Or are working on it. 70 years after Gaudi’s death, it’s still not finished. When it’s completed (who knows when), la Sagrada Familia, with all of it’s carvings, engravings, towers, and paintings, is supposed to symbolize every aspect of the Catholic Church and stand 50% taller than it is now! Honestly, if it were considered, I’d vote for it for eight wonder of the world. And after the architecture and artistry I showed Shannon what Barcelona’s really about. At night, we met up with my friends and flat mates and hit a few of our favorite bars and discos – Spanish style. I don’t think we came home before 6am any of the nights she was here. We also decided to go to a symphony at Palau de Musica Catalana, but because of the long night before, I fell asleep and missed part of the second half. We were exhausted. Who holds concerts at 11am?! Anyway, I had a great time and I think Shannon did too. She even said she was a little jealous of me because she liked Barcelona so much. I told this to some of my Catalan friends and they said they were just as jealous of her for living in Sevilla. I guess it’s all relative. You know the one about the grass on one side of a barrier appearing to have more chlorophyll than the grass on the other. So… when are you gonna visit?