I'm sitting comfortably in my living room, flanked on either side by what can only be described as two very lazy felines, sipping a glass of crisp white wine on a cool evening in late June. Like so many summer nights before, I'm feeling purely and utterly content in my downtown Barcelona abode. The swallows are gracefully dive-bombing through the air catching their evening meal as the sun sets the sky ablaze with fabulous hues of pinks, oranges, and reds. The low hum of passersby, now mostly jovial tourists, wafts from the street below as their grumbling bellies and dog-eared guidebooks send them hurriedly on their quest of a dining experience not-to-be-missed while in this city by the sea. A plucky sound from an acoustic guitar is interrupted by the occasional explosion of a "petardo", or firework that is leftover from Monday's San Joan festival, sending myself and the cats into a moment of panic and dangerously high blood pressure. These are all the usual goings-on of a life in a bohemian barrio, one that I have embraced for four years in this very piso, but yet nothing about this night is usual.

Living life in limbo for the last eighteen months has been anything but easy. Having no answers to life's big questions pushed my patience to its limits. For me, lack of foresight, the inability to make any kind of long range plans, and the seemingly eternal wait left me feeling powerless and filled with hopeless optimism. I was reduced to asking questions there were no answers to, and questions were asked of me that I couldn't answer. Life was at a crossroads as Jeff's graduation date drew nearer and the future was just as uncertain as ever. And then Spring arrived, bringing with it opportunities in our next adopted city...

     

Simply put, the French countryside is a special place. I have visited many times, and no matter the season, there's something that resonates within me, reminding me that I don't have to travel far to find peace and balance outside of Barcelona. It's as easy as hopping in the car and driving north just a couple of hours, and before you know it you're driving through a rolling landscape blanketed with hundreds of mature vineyards and ancient hilltop castles for as far as the eye can see. I knew this would be the perfect escape for my Mom and sister, Jamie, two country mice visiting the big city in mid-February.

February 9, 2013 in a nutshell

"Do not throw me a party. I don't want a party!"

In the months leading up to Jeff's birthday, I had tossed around a handful of ideas to celebrate the big 3-0. It is, after all, a milestone year and a milestone birthday can't be treated like just any other day.

"Cant de Barça" sung before and after every game. Listen while you read!

Though I never played sports myself, I've always considered myself a sports fan. No, I was never addicted to ESPN or paid any attention to the ticker during the news. I don't care about stats or rankings or betting on odds. I don't lose sleep over a hard loss. But there's something about being part of a roaring crowd, a band of fanatics, that draws me in and sweeps me off my feet.

Anyone who has attempted to solve a Rubik's Cube is familiar with that feeling of rising excitement when you've aligned all nine squares of one color on one face. "I'm going to do it this time!" you think when the next colors fall into their fateful position. You're overwhelmed with confidence when nine greens, nine blues, nine reds all fall into place. You may even take a step back to admire your brilliant handiwork. Nine whites, nine...."Nooo!" Now you're at a crossroads.

Leaving Barcelona behind for the summer is a strange feeling. As I packed my bags to prepare for the first of many flights this summer, I couldn't help but feel as though I had to almost explain my departure to my city. Will she know how much I'm going to miss her?

My personal Happy Hour

It's on days like today that I need a great escape. While the end of the school year brings excitement and anticipation for that just out of reach vacation that we all crave, the last week of school is one of the most difficult of the entire year. Classes are over, grades are in, and emotions are running high.

One of the world's top chefs, Ferran Adrià, opened his tapas restaurant Tickets in Barcelona in 2011.

Once again, I stand firm in my position that 2012 is going to be a great year. Last night was a night of absolutely zero expectations, and it turned out to be nothing short of unforgettable. What started out as an early evening drink turned into a world class dining experience and a celebrity chef sighting. What makes it so much more amazing is that all of this simply fell into my lap only hours before. Lucky? I think so.

The view from our terrace

 It's February first which means we're officially in the dead of winter. The dazzling sunshine and brilliant blue skies have been chased from the city by rain and frosty temperatures. The truth is, we knew it would happen sooner or later. Not even a city as privileged as Barcelona can escape the wrath of winter. But let's face it - winter here can't really be considered "bad". It's barely even a spec on the yearly calendar - a time when the city continues to buzz with energy, just under umbrellas or inside the cafes. People continue to congregate in the plazas, meet friends for a coffee, and seize the remaining treasures in every possible retail establishment hoping to get the best bargains during "rebajas" season. It practically takes an act of God to bring this city to a halt, and there's talk of it coming this week. The white menace we call snow is looming on the horizon.

We didn't believe it would happen two years ago either. I went about my business as usual - got ready for work, took the metro to school, and brought my umbrella because of course it was raining. But one thing was noticeably different...it was COLD. The kids were consumed with excitement of an impending snow storm coming our way. They were the experts...they just KNEW it was going to happen. On the other hand, the adults know best and we knew there was no way it was going to happen. How wrong we were. The steady rain suddenly turned to a wintery white, and within minutes it was snowing with a fury! Before long it had consumed the whole of our campus and the surrounding area. It was gorgeous.

Reality set in after the magic of what was actually happening became all too real. How are we going to get home? Will school close early? I had grown accustomed to the protocol of the public school system when moments like this occur. But we have no district office to make district-wide decisions. Our official calls are made locally, and if we didn't act with the utmost precision, it could have turned into a crisis. The roads were slick and the school buses were going nowhere fast. It took just under an hour to get to the Diagonal, a major artery that usually takes five minutes to reach from school.

By this point the city began to buckle...people abandoned their cars and opted for the metro or tram. The metro became a massive mob of people desperately trying to get home, to get to safety. Eventually, even the metro was no longer an option and people were left to walk home, including Jeff! Fortunately for me I had arrived home hours before mayhem struck, which granted me the opportunity to soak in the silence that had squelched the buzzing energy of Barcelona. I have never known the city to be so peaceful since that March afternoon, and I can't help but wonder if history will repeat itself.

What's the big deal you ask? It hadn't snowed in Barcelona in over 40 years, and the "blizzard" made ASB history. The first ever Snow Day was made official on March 9, 2010!

Barcelona Blizzard 2010 by the Metropolitan

This month's issue of the Metropolitan, Barcelona's magazine for English speakers, featured an article that struck a chord with me. Entitled "Saying adéu for good", five former Barcelona residents talk openly about their reasons for leaving. For a moment I thought I'd find this article to be helpful seeing as though Jeff and I are struggling with making the same decision. However, the more I read the more I realized that none of the five people interviewed had lives that mirrored my own.

It's true that Spain is not well positioned economically, and in saying so this is potentially a good argument for relocating. The job market is grim, especially for young professionals, and the future is bleak for now. One family spoke of leaving because of the job market, but only because he had become redundant at his job. It's very difficult to "move up the ladder" based on merit as promotions tend to be based on experience and seniority. Nonetheless, Jeff is currently applying for internships, and he has submitted applications to companies far and wide, but in our heart of hearts we're hoping he'll secure something more local. Speaking Spanish fluently certainly works out to his advantage, as well as having a valid work permit, and landing an internship in Spain, or even Europe, will more than likely secure an international career path. Needless to say we are anxious to see how this will unfold.

Other complaints about living in Barcelona included a faltering education system, lack of community and a sense of belonging, and the ever present language barrier. Again I found it difficult to identify with any of these arguments. Education is certainly a real concern, and there's no doubt that the Catalan public schools leave much to be desired. But being connected to the network of international schools gives me a different perspective altogether. There are in fact many great schools in the city offering a top-notch education, and I happen to know some of the most fantastic teachers any child would be lucky to have. The reality is, however, that quality comes with a price making some of the best schools in Barcelona out of reach for many families. As for language and community, they go hand in hand in some regard. There are many internationals who simply do not make the effort to learn Spanish. As a result, interaction with the local community is greatly limited and the potential for building a meaningful life here is next to impossible. It came with a lot of work and effort, but Jeff and I both feel a sense of community and belonging which we are both grateful for.

What I ultimately took away from the article was a common thread among all five former residents: an unbeatable lifestyle. It turns out that almost all of them truly miss Barcelona and what it has to offer, and this is my greatest fear. I suppose it's a sacrifice either way, but where else are we going to find beautiful weather, proximity to the beach, mountains, and everything in between, a fascinating culture, and a high regard for embracing life to the fullest? The answer is, well, we don't really know! What we do know is that since living here we have been genuinely happy and that's not something easy to let go of.

Didn't we learn anything from Jack, Kate, Hurley and all the others? Once they left, all they wanted was to get back to the island.

*You can read more about Barcelona at the Metropolitan to keep informed about life and culture in the Catalan capitol.

Barcelona's Barri Gotíc is a labyrinth of narrow streets dotted with imposing cathedrals, shady plazas, and time forgotten mom-and-pop shops. It's the bustling epicenter of a modern, cosmopolitan city, but a stroll down some it's hidden alleyways will transport you to another time. One of my favorite streets happens to be in my own backyard: Calle de Petritxol.

While friends have jet-set all over Europe for recent holidays and long weekends, I've set out to rediscover my city. Setting to the streets with nothing but a camera allowed me to view Barcelona through a different lens...literally! I wasn't wandering the streets with a list of errands to run, or distracted by a phone call, or rushing off to work. Wandering...I was doing just that. I could have strolled to countless landmarks anywhere in the city, but without thinking I found myself in my absolute favorite plaza in all of Barcelona: Plaça Pi with Plaça Sant Josep Oriol. Tucked just behind the ever crowded and over commercialized Las Ramblas, Plaça Pi is a gem. No matter the season or time of day, there's a certain feeling of calm that consumes me every time I find myself here. I can sit here for hours with friends at a terrace cafe or simply browse the art collections and fresh foods market on the weekends. I am always at peace here with Santa Maria del Pi, the gothic cathedral standing proud over this little slice of heaven.

Just beyond Plaça Pi is a tiny gateway to another time: Calle de Petritxol. This is one of my favorite streets in all of Barcelona for a few reasons. For one, it's tiny! At the entrance from the plaza, I can almost touch both sides of the street with my arms outstretched. But don't be fooled for this street is a melting pot of old and new; vintage and modern; chic and bohemian. I can't get enough of it! While the store fronts have stolen my attention in the past, my camera encouraged me to look, well, up! I had never noticed that the street is illustrated with beautiful tile mosaics that essentially tell the story of this time-forgotten portal. Capes and top hats, horse-drawn carriages and lanterns of light - the street below may have evolved with the times, but the street above is of a bygone era. 

My walkabout didn't take me far, but I felt as though I had traveled to another time entirely. Returning home I felt relaxed, fulfilled, and awakened to the pulse of Barcelona once again.

 

 

 

           

As you well know by now, moving abroad has brought about many "firsts" and new experiences over the last three years. Though time has brought comfort and familiarity, at no other time is it more evident that "we're not in Kansas anymore" than during the holiday season. When a holiday like Thanksgiving simply doesn't exist, there's great deal of planning and improvising that has to happen. The one thing that doesn't change, however, is the anticipation of great food and great company to share these experiences with.

At some point during my carefully coordinated dance in the kitchen yesterday, I realized that it was, well, easy! The turkey had been brining all night, the cornbread was made, the side dishes and hors d'oeuvres were prepped, skype was my kitchen companion along with Michael Buble's Christmas serenade in the background. This was a turning point. Relatively speaking, preparing a Thanksgiving feast abroad had finally become a no-brainer! I stopped to reflect on our various turkey feasts over the years and I came to one conclusion...this year wasn't just seemingly easy. It WAS easy!

2008: Our first Thanksgiving was celebrated only about 6 weeks after moving to Spain. Being away from family for our first major holiday was yanking on our heart strings, so we planned to spend the holiday in Munich with Nathan, Shonda, and little Brianna-to-be. The universe had a special surprise for all of us, though, when baby Brianna decided to make her grand entrance a few weeks early! While Mommy and Daddy spent their first hours with their baby girl in the hospital, Uncle Jeff and Aunt Lauren prepared a Thanksgiving feast at the house. Reading labels in Spanish was challenging enough, but German?? Seriously?? In the end we pulled it off, packed everything to go, and brought Thanksgiving to the hospital. This takes the cake for the most chaotic yet memorable Turkey Day experience!

2009: This year we had just moved into our new apartment and we had only just begun to unpack. No big deal! Not even a partially furnished apartment could keep us from sharing one of our favorite holidays with friends. This would be our first Spanish Thanksgiving, so there was a lot of kitchen and cooking vocabulary building while searching the city far and wide for the right ingredients.This holiday was spent with Raúl and Marta, our Scottish friends Rob and Cat, their newborn Aurora, and even their parents who were in town to help with the wee one. I was stressed this time around, not being familiar with my kitchen and lacking essential gadgets, but in the end it was another success.

Thanksgiving 2010 and what's left of the turkey

2010: This year Thanksgiving was BIG. Enormous turkey (I couldn't lift it by myself), side dishes in massive quantities, and a crowd of 16...whoa! Prep started early in the morning, but luckily we had our dear friends Alex and Kelly in town to help us get organized for the impending feast. Our friends came from all over: Spain, Italy, Scotland, Venezuela, France, and the US. We asked our guests to contribute something to the dinner, and the dishes that were brought were very interesting! Even a typical Spanish tortilla found its place on the table. There was still a lot to be learned over the course of preparing this meal, but with the company of great friends and delicious food, the clean-up could wait until morning.

2011: A very successful Turkey Day! We had a much more manageable guest list this year which I think helped in easing my anxiety of entertaining a bit. In fact, not a single doubt crossed my mind this year that everything would turn out perfectly...not even when the water was turned off in our neighborhood for most of the day! We spent this year's Thanksgiving with our good friends Deby and Armando, Dawn and Francesc with their little boy Zach, and our new friend Dave. But the best part of this year's feast? Everyone helped with the clean-up and we woke up to a spotless apartment this morning. We've finally figured this thing out!

Our Thanksgiving family 2011

*A special thank-you to my Mom and Kirk. Thanksgiving wouldn't have been the same without your enormous care packages!

The title says it all...almost. What the title does imply is that we have been anxiously awaiting the arrival of the Costa Brava Historic Rally. This is an annual multi-day rally race of only antique/classic cars that takes place in Lloret de Mar, a small coastal town approximately 60km north of Barcelona. Furthermore, it promises the rare opportunity to catch a glimpse of the Lancia that I built a model of as a child! What more could a guy ask for? Maybe the opportunity to actually see a race???

Our voyage began late as usual as we made our way to the train station. We weren't worried though as the rally wasn't due to begin until 5pm. The train wound its way along the coast, passing many dark, dank, graffitti-ridden industrial towns. I could sense the uncertainty in Lauren's face as she gazed out to see the beautiful, torquoise Med on the right side, and the gray, hazy, run-down shops and villages on the left side; however, about an hour into our trip, the depressing grays gave way to bright, white-washed dwellings and neatly trimmed parks that dotted the beaches along the Med. I could feel my heartrate increasing as we drew nearer to the race! Nearly two hours after we boarded the train, we pulled into Blanes Estacio. It was a quaint little train station in the middle of nowhere. We disembarked the train, walked the twenty feet through the station, and caught the bus just as it was leaving. What timing! And for only 1.50Euro, it would be money well spent to see the race!

As we pulled into Lloret de Mar, the police were clearly visible in their neon green vests directing traffic around the roads that were closed for the race. My blood was racing and excitement mounting. I saw my first rally car...then the second! I stopped to ask the police officer what time the race would begin. The reply: "Ya ha acabado." ("It's already over.") What?!? Turns out that the race finished at 2pm and it was already 4pm. But she assured me that if we wanted to make the 2.5 hr journey (each way) tomorrow, we would be able to see the final leg of the race. I don't think so!

Sooo...being the optimists we are, we decided to make the best of the situation and proceeded to the Rally podium for some photo ops with some of the cars and then to the tourism office to see what else we could see in Lloret de Mar. We grabbed some maps (and the official Rally schedule (which wasn't posted anywhere on the web)) and headed out to explore.
We saw a cathedral built in 1608 and then headed back to the coast to see the "dancing lady" statue that overlooked the Med from the cliffs above. We're not really sure why she was dancing, but we just think she was happy to see us. From there, we hiked along the jagged rocks/cliffs to a castle even higher up the coast. The castle was built around 1000AD and was unfortunately partially destroyed in the 1800's by the British Canoneers and later in the 1960's when they built a road through part of it. Today, the only part left completely intact is the tower. Regardless, the tower still sits promininently on the cliff as a reminder of the power of royalty of years past. A true sight to behold far above the crystal-clear waters of the Med.

We finally made the move, and our feet are firmly planted on foreign soil. For better or for worse, we have left all things familiar behind. Only one question remains...now what??

We're living in a beautiful country filled with rich history and a flavorful culture, and our curiosity got the best of us. Having 10 days before work begins for me, we decided to set out on the first of many aimless adventures around the city. First order of business...where's the Metro? Fortunately for us, the Metro station for our neighborhood is only a 5 minute walk along railroad tracks, a dark alley, graffiti ridden walls, and up a shabby flight of steps. At first glance the pathway seems a bit "dodgey", but really the footpath is quite safe and people are always around.

Note: Graffiti is nothing out of the ordinary in Barcelona. You'll find it on every store gate when it is closed. There is an unwritten street "artist code" whereby once a property has been "tagged", it is unacceptable for other graffiti artists to paint over it. Naturally, merchants are dismayed to find graffiti on their property, but have learned to use it to their advantage. In fact, merchants will often pay a graffiti artist to paint an advertisement for the store while tagging the property with their signature at the same time. It's a win-win situation.
We made it to the metro station, and again...now what? After staring at ticket kiosks and metro maps long enough to be tagged as foreigners and non-native speakers, we decided push a random button, insert some money, receive a card, choose a train line, and GO. Where? Who knows! We can hardly pronounce the signs let alone understand them or place a destination on a map. Our only option was to hop on a train and see where we end up.

Note: EVERYTHING is written in Catalan...at least in the metro stations. And no, it's nowhere close to resembling Spanish! Who knew we would be trilingual?

Note: Maps are impossible to understand. Some are oriented north, while others are oriented around the major avenues. VERY frustrating when it's cold, raining, and your feet hurt.
In all fairness, I did have a destination in mind. I thought it would be nice to walk along the Avinguda de Diagonal which is a main avenue that bisects the city on, well, a diagonal. I did research Barcelona before arriving, and knew this would be a good place to begin looking for apartments as well. We soon arrived and were pleasantly greeted with charming old world-style buildings boasting ornate wrought iron terrace railings and decorative window moldings. As we walked along the bustling streets, we began to get a true sense of the laid-back Spanish lifestyle. Countless sidewalk cafes, small boutiques, bakeries, markets, schools, and churches peppered the avenues around every corner. We stopped in at a cafe for a "cafe con leche" to take in the sights, to experience the culture for ourselves, to people watch. Who were we not to!

Note: Mullets are amazingly popular. It's quite scary really...each successive mullet outdoes the last. We've learned that if you spot a mullet, most likely he or she is a true Catalunian. The mullet knows no boundaries.

Note: Fashion is quite interesting. People wear boots, scarves, and winter coats if the temp dips below 65 degrees.

Wondering around uncharted territory is quite exhausting, so we decided to find our way back. By the time we returned to "Placa de Sants", we had more or less mastered the integrated transit system. Hooray for our achievement!!

The following days were consumed with more aimless wondering, but we stumbled across some amazing places. Placa Catalunia, Las Ramblas, Parc Guell (Gaudi's take on Hansel and Gretel), Mercat de Santa Caterina (a HUGE market), Passeig de Gracia (think Rodeo Drive in LA...only much older and more charming), cathedrals hundreds of years old, aww-inspiring plazas, and the waterfront harbor filled with docked sailboats patiently waiting for their next sea adventure.

We have only begun to unlock the secrets of the city, and already we are overwhelmed by it's beauty and awe. What will tomorrow's adventure entail?