In Limbo

With the somewhat frivolous intensive language classes over and proper university classes not starting until Monday, many of my American compatriots wanted to "hacer punto" (take advantage of a holiday) and do some traveling within Spain (we're not allowed to leave the country just yet). But despite Zander, Ashley, and Evan, and I's attempts at throwing a last-minute plan together with our guidebooks, nothing materialized. Everybody else plans are made. As such, and as the title of this entry might suggest, my sense of stasis has continued. I'm starting to see that as not such a bad thing, though. Maybe it's because things are starting to come together in a way they didn't seem to be before. Ill explain.

I'm starting to get a feel for my housing situation, and it's far from as bleak as I once feared. At certain points the piso is quite lively, it's just that my roommates all work differing, bizarre schedules that have them clocking in during the evenings and on weekends, so rarely are they all hear at once. Slightly complicating the situation is the apparent rift between Ruth (Affable English girl, as referred to before) and her boyfriend Pablo, and Elena, the (seemingly) nice, older Italian women who co-owns the property. I'm not sure what started it, but they never talk to each other and the situation apparently put enough stress on Pablo that he got in a shouting match with Juliana (the cute, spunky Peruvian girl) when she yelled at Ruth for taking her clothes out of the dryer (did I mention said-fight occurred right outside my door at one in the morning?). Complicated, no?



Luckily, and despite these "Real World"-esque shenanigans, I'm having no problem getting along with anyone. Juliana, when she's here (which is practically never) is gregarious and flirty, while Elena is somewhat reserved but seems to enjoy talking to me about anything related to the US, which she has lots of interest in. Then there's Magalee, the luscious French girl who lives across my hall and just returned from a trip to her hometown. As soon as she arrived we were drinking bear on her balcony, listening to the deep bass grooves of her extensive reggae collection, sharing a spliff. Yeah know where this is headed: I think I'm in love.

But best to take things slow with roommates, I told myself, and though she's never anything less than surprisingly warm with me I'm not yet convinced that she's no more than a genuinely sweet, kind person. Either way I feel pretty lucky to be rooming with her. Her longtime friend Julie and Julie's boyfriend, Eric, were visiting her for a night, and the four of us went out to a cafe in the beautiful, bustling Plaza del Sol in the Gracia neighborhood. Gracia is like a classic village from the Europe of old, with narrow streets, high apartments everywhere, and plazas filled with outdoor cafes where people chat until past midnight. We drank wine, ate tapes, and smoked copious amounts of cigarettes (a true stereotype about the French, it would seem). We didn't finish until well past my normal bedtime, but true to Barcelona's reputation, it was only the beginning of the night.



We spent the rest of our time at a wonderful Cuban bar, which quickly became so packed that there were more people inside standing than sitting. The bar tenders irritably pushed us aside constantly because we were blocking the closet with all the glasses inside, but we didn't pay them any mind. I talked to Eric for a long time about why there's so much obesity in America (they're very curious about this in France, apparently), Eric talking in his extremely limited English and Magalee translating between us via Spanish when necessary. She also introduced me to several of her friends from work (she helps sell office supplies to large companies), most of whom were French as well, in fact. We all gabbed for hours, practically yelling over the chattery din of the bar, drinking the addictively-delicious Mojitos and smoking God knows how many cigarettes in the process. Everyone loves to talk about how much Europeans look down their noses at Americans, but the people I met that night were some of the friendliest I've encountered in any country and never batted an eye when I told them where I was from. To my eyes, it seems like everyone everywhere are more or less the same: as long as you don't dwell on whatever cultural differences you might have, it's easy to find common ground.