Joshua Zamrycki’s Weblog

I thought I’d leave you with a little story about one of my classes that I’m teaching. My youngest group of students consists of five little seven year old girls. They are so cute and yet so devilish. Two of them are named Ana and they are trying their hardest to teach me Catalan while I’m trying to teach them English. Anyway, we were learning the names of family members the other day (mother, father, sister, brother…) when Ana Somalo (the shorter of the two) got up from her chair and walked over to me. In a sad little voice she said something in Spanish that I didn’t quite make out. I asked her to repeat what she said and she looked directly into my eyes and told me that her grandmother had died just a few days ago. Then she bowed her head. I wasn’t quite sure what to do. I put my hand on her shoulder and told her that I was very sorry. I asked her if she was alright or if she wanted to step outside for a minute. She then looked up again with a huge smile on her face and told me she was just kidding! She skipped back to her chair laughing and explained that if she had really died she would be crying and not just sad. I should know better. Ugh. I scraped my heart up off the floor and then taught them aunt, uncle, cousin, etc.

So there you have it. Still alive (me and Señora Somalo). Still enjoying myself. Imagining how long it took me to write this epic saga of an email, take a few seconds and let me know what’s new and exciting in your life. I can’t wait to hear.

Life or bust,
Josh

I was denied the World Series because of lack of Spanish interest, but the Super Bowl was a bit more attractive and so it was broadcast at this Sports bar I know of near Plaça Catalunya (10 minute walk from my new flat). Even though the Vikings didn’t make it, I didn’t want to miss it. I showed up a little early to make sure I got a seat at the bar and was greeted by the overwhelming sound of English being spoken. I think every American in the Barcelona area was at the Sports bar that night. I know I’m a bit turned off to many things about America, but I cringed when I bumped into the Long Island Jew (accent and all), the egocentric Californian, the overly-macho guy from Florida, and the loud southerner. Spain probably has these people too (except maybe the Jews) but I guess it’s just subtler because I haven’t noticed it as much as I did back in the US. Even thought the game wasn’t very exciting I did manage to meet some very cool people who I think I’m going to keep in touch with. That was that.

I think I told you about a play that I auditioned for and got into. Well, about a week ago my director called me and said that, because of my complicated work schedule in the evenings, he was going to have to recast my part. ¡Que mala suerte! I was very upset. He said he was very sorry because he thought I had a lot of energy and could offer a lot to the show so he asked me if I would like to stay on as an understudy (just in case). I reluctantly said OK and said I’d meet him in a few days to pick up a script. During those few days I thought about it and realized that I didn’t really want to hang on as an understudy if I wasn’t in the show so I was going to call him and say, “Thanks but no thanks”. Right before I was about to call him he calls me! He tells me that he’s having a lot of problems with the actors he’d cast and is thinking of recasting the entire show and wanted to know if I was still interested. ¡Que suerte! I’m meeting him tomorrow to talk. I’ll let you know what happens.

Even though I was hurt pretty bad the first time I went, I decided to give snowboarding another go. This time we went to France! A mountain called Les Angles just on the other side of the Pyrenees was our destination. Not to toot my own horn, but I really think I’m getting the hang of this! Only one real horror story from this adventure. Since we were all on different levels of snowboarding ability, we decided to all split up and meet for lunch at around noon. Sounds easy enough. Well, I was at the top of the mountain at 11:30 and figured 30 minutes was more than enough time for me to make it to the bottom for some pre-made pb&j still allowing for falling and standing time. I started my run on a green slope and took it surprisingly well so at the next fork I veered off to a blue slope. Again no problem. I cut back and forth all the way to the middle of the mountain when I thought, “Oh look, a red slope! I didn’t see that one on the map. I think I’ll check it out.” So I did and I managed to speed my way all the way to the bottom with 10 minutes to spare. I looked around for the lockers to meet my friends and realized that nothing looked familiar. I checked the huge map at the lift I was next to and realized I was on the other side of the mountain! At this point I was very hungry and very much looking forward to a little breather and some sandwiches. But if I wanted to eat, I had to go back up the mountain and surf down another slope. OK, shouldn’t be a problem. Then I looked at the lift and noticed that it wasn’t a chair lift – it was one of those tow lifts (a nightmare for a beginner snowboarder). I had tried and fallen off of these things about a dozen times. But I had no choice so I got on line, grabbed the pole, and to my amazement, rode up the mountain. Well, actually about 5/6 of the mountain. And then I hit a bump and fell off. So there I was, 5/6 of the way up the mountain sitting on my butt. Now in retrospect, I see that the smartest thing would have been to surf down and try again. But I knew I was very close to the top so I stepped out of my board and attempted to walk up the remaining 1/6. What a mistake! The mountain was so steep that I had to stop and rest every 12 steps and the sun wasn’t making it much easier. I had another one of those reflection moments sitting there and staring over the French Pyrenees. Very beautiful. A little over a half an hour later I finally arrived at the top again – completely exhausted and too late to catch the others for lunch. I strapped on my board and hit the correct slope to take me to the bottom. I guess I was a little too tired from the climb because I wasn’t able to turn as easily as I’d remembered. After not falling nearly as many times as my first excursion, I made up for it all with one huge wipe-out that sent my tumbling for what seemed like an eternity and, two weeks later, I can still feel in my butt. I’m going again in two weeks.

Having lived here in Barcelona for almost half a year now, I’ve noticed some definite differences in daily life. Some are more than welcome and others I’m still getting used to. Here’s my top 10 list.
1) Everything is more relaxed here. It’s true. There’s just a laid-back attitude that makes you sit back and realize: “Why hurry? It’ll get done. Eventually.” And then it does.
2) Meals. Breakfast is usually nothing more than a cup of coffee and a pastry. Lunch is a full five course meal. And dinner isn’t eaten until around 10 or 11 at night. I like it.
3) Fashion. Spain is home to some of the most beautiful women in the world and all of them know how to dress well. The men, on the other hand, seem a bit feminine and wear pants that are too tight and aren’t always long enough. Plus when you get dressed up, the universal rule appears to be: wear black.
4) Metro doors. The doors on the metro will not open unless you push a little button on the door when the train stops. I learned this my very first day (the hard way).
5) That @#!* scarf. Everyone in Spain wears the same scarf! It’s so weird. It’s beige with a blue and white design. I pass so many on the street each day that a few of my friends and I have taken to yelling “Scarf!” every time we pass one. It’s fun and they don’t know what we’re saying.
6) Smokers. Everyone smokes! I thought a lot of people in the US smoked, but we pale in comparison to the black lungs of this country!! In fact, Americans have a reputation for not smoking very much at all. When my friends offer me a cigarette and I decline they say, “Oh yeah. You’re American. I forgot.”
7) Siesta. People don’t really take a nap at this time like I thought. They do in Andalucia, in the south, but not as much where I am. But all of the little stores close everyday from 2 until about 5. It’s so people can go home and eat that big lunch with their families. Zippers. The zippers are on the other side of the jackets here. I still can’t do it fluidly.
9) Adios. When I see someone I know in the US while walking on the street I say “Hello”. Here, they say “Goodbye”. I’m not used to that yet, either.
10) Mopeds and pigeons. I read that Spain has more mopeds than any other city in the world (second is Rome). And we also have the highest pigeon population density in the world. That was hard to believe after being in New York.

I think I had mentioned to you that I was planning on changing apartments when I got back to Spain. Well, the transfer is complete. After about two weeks and 20 flats visited, I found my new home! It’s a great flat right near the Arc de Triomf (actually it’s two flats connected by an outside terrace) and I’m sharing my half with two Italian architects named Paulo and Barbara. The other half homes Johannas (a German architect), Sabina (a German graphic designer), and some new guy who is a French graphic designer (he’s going to move in in a few days so I haven’t met him yet). One of the things that I love so much about the flat is that over the last few years, it has been home to a few artists who have left their mark on almost every wall and piece of furniture in the place. I felt inspired the moment I walked in. Plus everyone speaks Spanish 24/7 and learning the language is one of the main reasons I chose Spain in the first place. If you have sent any mail to my old address, don’t worry – I’ll still get it. And I don’t know why, but the telephone company changed my mobile phone number. All they really did was replace the first 9 with a 6. Weird. Sorry for any inconvenience. So, when are you coming to visit?

Yes, they actually allowed me to come back into the country after a wonderful little American vacation. I only wish I had more time to see more people while I was Stateside. I wasn’t very worried at all about coming back until everyone kept asking me if I was worried. I have to admit, I did fret a little on the plane ride back. But the nice customs agent in Barcelona took my passport and added another stamp without even bothering to look at the ones before. *whew* So everything’s good now, right? I’m in the clear? Well, I go to get my bags to complete my little Spanish invasion and after about 15 minutes of waiting for my suitcase I realize that everyone has picked up their bags and I was waiting by the carousel all alone and I knew that that broken down cardboard box wrapped in twine that kept passing me wasn’t mine. I saw a woman with a clipboard standing a few meters away so I figured (woman) + (clipboard) = (airport employee) and I approached her with my dilemma. She asked me my name and when I told her, she pointed to my bag that was right beside her. I know I hadn’t seen it circle with the others, but I wasn’t about to ask any questions. I thanked her kindly, picked up my bag, and made a dash for the door. Home free.

Sometimes I take life for granted and I don’t like that. The other day was a very laid-back day (typical Spain) and so, without any pressing engagements, I went to work a little earlier than usual. I take the train about half an hour outside Barcelona and the entire trip is along the coast. I remember the first two months I worked at this school, I spent almost the entire trip staring at the Mediterranean Sea in awe and admiring the way the sunset colored the horizon and I realized: I’m in Spain! I’m in Spain and I’m sitting on a beach on the Mediterranean Sea! I felt embarrassed that I had to wake up from wherever I was sleeping to realize exactly where I was. I guess that amount of awe is difficult to carry around with you all the time. I smile and am happy when I walk through the streets and notice what is actually going on around me (the people, the buildings, the animals, the trees, the weather) and am not preoccupied with what I have to do that night or who I have to call or what I need to buy at the grocery store. I guess it’s the old “Take time to smell the flowers” thing. I believe that more and more each day.