I spent much of my last day in Barcelona at the mall. Yes I went to the mall. No, it was not one of those high fashion type malls either. It was the type of place locals go to to get new shoes and blenders and the latest Avril Levien CD. There were no obviouse extranjeros. It was just a mall.
At this point I am just tourist out. I am not here long enough to emerage myself in local life and how many really big churchs can one look at. It like when I drove from Vancouver to Price George to Casper. Over the course of three days of driving I saw amazing mountain view after amazing moutina view. At a certain point I got drunk on mountain views. Oh look, more mountains. After so many they start to loose thier taste. So instead of something amazing I went to the mall. I saw/encountered 4 very interesting things.
1) All you can each Chinees Buffet. The food was okay. I was the only one in the place who was using chop sticks. I am so worldly (roll of eyes). None of the locals put the meat on rice. They just ate it by it self. The whole staff was Chinees. It was nice break.
2) Gummy Bears. Okay, so that is not to exceptional. You can find gummy bears in any bus or train station, but has provided a nice travel treat.
3) Some news confernce. A radio station is sponsering some flamenco spectacular in Barcelona. So they had a full group in traditional gard. Looked like a normal news confence minus two things. One, the flemenco out fits. Two, the people giving the news confernce, in the mall court yard where flanked by men on hourse back in tranditional garb. The next time I do a news conference, I want Spanish men in traditional grad on horse back flanking me.
4) Pictures. I went in to a men´s store (My current search is for the perfect belt. Yes, a high calling I know.) The store was the equivilant of a Banna Republic in terms of style, quality, price, and look and feel. In side the was a four sided piller that had framed sports photos on it. For some reason I was drawn to the photos and inpsected them all closely. A number were of Carl Lewis in action. One was of Ben Johnson crossing the line in Soul to win the 100m. Just out of the photo to the right is Carl Lewis looking at him in disbeliefe, know full well the Ben was doped up. Two days latter the whole world knew. There was a photo of Micheal Johnson waving to fans with 50 photogs taking his picture. Some really cheesy piece of stock photo. It is of a running back hitting the line. All of the athleets are in single color uniforms, with no logo, or name. Trying to look like real action, but is not. There was shot for above of Hakim Alajuian (spelled way wrong) and Shaq (in a Magic uniform) going up for a tip. I can only assume it is a photo from the NBA chapionships from who knows when (92? 94? 96? I don´t know). The last picture on the top of the back of the piller was of an extra point being kicked. I looked at it. Looked away. Started walking out. Then for some reason came back to the picture. It was a real photo of a game. The two teams playing were the University of Wyoming Cowboys and Colorado St. Rams. UW was trying to defeind the kick. They were in thier all white unifor. The Rams in thier gold pants and blue tops. The feild was really mud. Because of the angle of the shot you can´t see the stands at all. On the chest of the one of the CU players blocking, you can plainly see a WAC patch. The picture was under glass with a glare. There is no way that the photo I took with my disposable camera will come out. But was just too weird. Wondering if anyone had ever walked into the store and noticed what I had just noticed. Even if an american saw it, would they know what it was. The only way I could tell who was in the picture was because I could reconize the ram helmet and Joe and Steamboat on UW´s. Where am I again.

I guess they are everywhere. Nerds that is. Yesterday I stumbled into a plaça that every Sunday there is a stamp and coin markert. It was just like the baseball card shows I went to in my youth. Lots of tables with all about the same thing. Lost of men (amost exclusivly men) standing around tables talk shop (or I can only assume that is what they were doing). A few tables of folks selling old postcards from around the world and of all things used phone cards with different designs on them. I felt as unforeign there as I would in one of Spains many McDonalads. Maybe less, because in McD´s I have to read the menu.
Nobody is watching
Yesterday there was some event sponsored by Nokia in the city. Everyone who was particitpating was given a baseball cap (with a Nokia logo) and a number, like they were running a five k. About one o´clock I managed to find (or it found me) the one of the events for the day. There were close to 2000 people in a plaça, all with camera, all wearing there caps. A few welcoming remarks were made. Three kids shot of confety cannons and then the show began. It was one of those women who perfroms on the long hanging piece of silk. I know I should know the name of the art form. So in this plaça there is 2000 photogs, two piece of silk, a crane holding the silk up, and a the performer.
It was really the oddest thing. Once she started, there was 2000 camera pointing at her, from all directions (she was hanging in the center of the plaça), but no one seemed to be watching. They were all looking through view finders at minimized versions of the performance. Not the perfomace itself. I felt as if I was the only person really watching her do her thing. Everyone esle was not watching the show, but insted looking for some great shot.
Mass I understand
I discovered that in Barcelona (as in most of Wester Europe) on Sunday you do nothing. Mostly because nothing is open (not even grocery stores). So I spent most of the day watching people come and go and reading. It was a very pleasent day. One of the goals was to find mass in language that I knew or at least sort of know.
[Side note] Five point question (and you will get 5 points for each correct answer): What are the official languages of Spain? There are five. I could only give you three of the top of my head and none of them are called Spanish (or Español). The spanish would call the language they speak castellano.
So one of my goals for yesterday was to find Mass. The problem was I kept finding mass in casilla. Not that I really understand the mass in castellano, but at this point I have been to enough masses in it, that I know many of the responses. I can remember visiting my friend in West Africa years ago. She was so happy to get mass in French, insted of the local diolect. I now understnad.
When I speak Spanish
When I speak Spanish one of three things happen. 1) They look at me as if I have three heads (or are simply admiring my cowboy hat and didn´t hear me). 2) Respond in a way thay I am not prepaired. Pro ejemplo: I say, “¿Tienes un boli?” (Do you have a pen). My hope is to get either a yes or no. Inested they shart giving me all these opptions (or for all I know expain the meaning of life). 3) They act as they understand me. I am in a resturant. I order a pealla and a coffee. The waiter smiles knowingly. Writes a few notes on his order pad and walks off. I feel happy and confident I am at least pronoucing the language in a way that sort of understandable. Ten minutes latter the waiter brings me a rollerskate and a fishing pole.
What ever you do, don´t turn left
I have now found myself in 5 major cities. (To a kid from Wyoming, since they have all had more than 300,000 they have been major to me.) So much of the time I only have vauge sense of where I am and where I am going. So I have to ask directions. Many times I have recieved good hearted directions from some local who I didn´t understand a word they said. I thank them and head in the direction they pointed, only to try again.
I am still not able to hear Spanish in real time. There are some words that I don´t have to translate, I just know. But many others I have to think what they mean (and still even more I just don´t know). I class it was okay, because the teachers spoke slower (think the way a second gread teacher talks to the class). More time to process. So when listening to directions, I try and find the few words that I know. Left. Right. Numbers. Street names. (And watch the hand gestures). The problems is when they give the directions, “What ever you do, when you get to Gran Vía, don´t turn left.” All I hear is “Wa wa wa waa wa wan Grand Vía wa wa wwaaw left.” So naturally I trun left at Grand Vía

(Where am I) You will also note that after 4 weeks I have finally figgured out the European keyboard and now can make accent marks. Very exciting! (Okay so it is early and just being awake is exciting at this point.)
Last night I did one of my favorate activities. I sat in a bar and read a book. I really enjoy being around the energy of people, but not having to talk to any of them. So for about two hours I was lost in my book, Generation X by Douglas Coupland. [Note: This is one of my favorite books of all times and is really worth a read. At this point it is 12 years old. The only thing that is really dated in the book is the consitant nucluar fear. Which makes some sence for the characters to have being they are of my generation. I haven´t read the book in 11 years, but I have been meaning to. I had picked up a few times, only to put it down. Once again, I find myself reading the right book at the right time.] So for two hours I was lost in English reading for the first time in 4 weeks, the music and conversation of the bar were nothing more than back ground noise. I payed for my beverage and started walking back to the hostel when all of a sudden it hit me: I am in Barcelona. I mean, I knew that, but few a few hours I had forgotten.
All things Gaudí Yesterday I did two of the Gaudí sites here. I visited his still unfinished church Sagrada Familia (Holy Family) and his park Palua Güell (which was supose to be a gated comunity for the rich). Image if Dr. Suese took all of his buildings (and trees for that matter) and covered them with brightly colored mozaics. Really amazing stuff. I walked to both location, which is a real hike. Probaly walked more than 8 miles yesterday. If it is not too hot today, I will walk up to the park again.
To see some of Gaudí’s work check out:
Park site 1
Park site 2
Offical site for Sagrada Familia (flash version)
Offical site for Sagrada Familia (html version, not as cool, but loads faster and has same info)

Last night I was laying in my hostel bed reading about 9:45. One of the guys who was staying in my room walked in. Hostel are so weird. You share the same space and many times you don´t say a word to any one. Always looking with suspition. Hoping your stuff doesn´t leave when the other guests do.
So this guy enters the room. I late find out his name is Kevin. He is from Tiawan, so I am quite certain his real name isn´t Kevin, but what ever. I go by Genio here. He asks me If I went to the beach today. I say no. Maybe he see my beach towle hanging up? He asks how many nights I have sayed in this hostel. I tell him it was my first night. He then appologizes, saying that he was thinking I was the guy who had stayed there the night before.
You know us white guys, we all look the same. You would think this is a joke, but it really happened.
Need for prayer As I was in bed this morning planning my day, I was thinking about what I was going to write about. The title of this section was supose to be “My new psycological crisis”. It was going to be thoughtful and funny (as always (rolling eyes)). Then I recieved an e-mail from a friend anncouncing the funural arrangement of her mother. Makes my concerns seem a little (read a lot) trite.
When I met my friend Donna over 4 years ago here mother had been diagnosed with cancer in the previous six months. At that time was given six months to live. Over the next 4 years she had ups and downs, but as far as I could tell fought very noblely and with a smile.
The wake is Monday and the funeral is Tuesday in Rhode Island.
Please take a moment today to lift Donna´s mother, Donna, and her whole family in prayer.

(And now for something complete different).
Greetings from Barcelona. One of the problems of putting off writting something is as days pass they loose thier energy. I will try and get to more of what got me here, if I have time.
Montey Python Last night I was poking around Valencia and I came accross signs for Monty Python (for the first time ever) in Spanish. Then as luck would have it, right after I had stumbled into daily mass at the Cathedral, I stumbled in to the theater where the show was. For about $10 I was able to get a ticket up top. The show was called “Los Majores Sketches” (the best scetches). It was an hour and a half long, and it was translated stuff. Some of the sketches were re-written a little, to make sense to the local audiance. For example “The Lumberjack Song” was about a police officer (i think?). Tune was the same. Punch line was the same, but no flannel. I wonder if the spanish would know hwat lumberjack is? I can only assume that the song “Sit on My Face” was re-written to fit the tune. I don´t speak spanish, much less understand when sexual inuendo is being used. So I just sang the english words I knew in my head. The dead periot was a norewgen red, not a norwegen blue. I had this had much more to do with the fact they could only find a stuffed red paroit and not because there is so special cultreal significance to blue paroits.
I reconized about half of the scetches that they did, and understood ahout 30% of what was said. My abbiltiy to comprehend what was going on when down as time passed and my brain tired. To call the show the best sketchs might be an over sell. There was no “arguement sketch”, “ministry of funny walks”, or “how to defend yourself against fresh fruit”. It might have been more accurent to call it, “A bunch of really good sketches” but i have a feeling that wouldn´t have been as catchy in spanish.
Right now As far as I could tell right now I could be in London. I am sitting in an easyInternet.com shop. It is a company started by the guy who ownes easyJet (the english equivilant to SouthWest Airlines) and easyCars. All the signage is in English and music is in English. I arrived in Bacelona today after a nice bus ride up from Valencia. The trip took 5 hours. Only one stop. I got to the bus station at 9:55, asked for a ticket to Barcelona and was able to get on the 10am bus. Wasn´t good planning, just luck. I got a room in a hostel for the next three nights her and will take the night train to Madrid on Monday night. Spend Tuesday in Madrid doing the two things I want to do there. Fly home Wednesday.
There is lots to see here in Barcelona, but it is a bit of an expensive town (much more so than Granada) so I have a feeling the next few days are going to be spent plaçes (that would be Catalone for plaza, because they don´t speak spanish here, but that is another story) reading to books that i just bought in English (well the conversation to buy the books was in Spanish, but the books are written in English), and drinking Cafe Bombon.
Cafe Bombon (the recipe) Two parts expresso, one part condensed milk. You can feel you whole system start to jump with just the frist drink.
The ride to Valincia By the time I get around to writting about the ride to Valincia, you are going to be expecting some great story, which is it not, so here is the summery.
When I went to the bus station on Wed with this plan: If there was a bus to Valincia I would take it, if not I would take a bus to Madrid and then the night train to Barcelona. I got to the bus station at 10:40, but to Valencia left at 10:20, the next was at 3:45, so I bought a ticket. Not the best choice. So I sat tin the bus station for the next 5 hours. Good time had by all I am sure.
Then the bus ride begins. We stop in every podunk town. We spend more time trying to navigae small city streets in a bus than we do n the freeway. At one point as we are pulling into a town, the driver is for some reason driving crazy. Quick starts and stops (not very graceful on a bus), we end up rearending a car (no danage luckly). At this point the passangers are starting to heckle to bus driver. He pulls in to the station (hitting the curb) to a sarcastic appaluse. He then makes the anouncment that we will be stopped for one minute. There is a mad dash out the door to comsume as much of a cigeret that is posible in one minute (the Spanish smoke alot). Back on the rode for 10 minutes (not an overstatement) the bus stops with the annoucment that we will be stopped for 30 mins (to a coruse of boos).
By this point 30 people have gotten on and off the bus. No one is in the right seat, so that everytime someone gets on they try and find first thier seat, than any open seat. The same sence over and over again. Confused looks and trying to get help. One guy, who spoke much less Spanish than me (which I think is negitive Spanish) ended up sitting in the extra drivers seat up front.
As time passed, I would look at my map and the sign and realize how little progress we were making. I came to realize that we were going to get to Valencia at 2am. So at 2am I drop my big back pack into a locker, grab a cab, and head down town to find a hotel to stay in. After four tries I find one (I can say “Do you have a free single room?” like a champ in Spanish), lucky for me it was the cheapest hotel I had tried to that point. IN the morning retrived my bags and hung out in the city.
Valencia itself is nice enough. It doesn´t even make Rick Steves book, and Lonly Planet points out everything in the city with no energy or luster. After walking the city for a day I know why. It is a very beautiful, uneventful city (at least to a tourist just passing through). I don´t know if I would remember anything about in the future if it were for “Always look on the birght side of life” in Spanish.

Yes I am in Valencia, which was not the plan. Valencia is on the East coast of Spain, and about a 4 1/2 hour drive from Granada (which took me many more hours, but we will get to everything in due time).
The last three days have been some of the wackiest of my life. Very odd. Good! but very odd.
When I last left you I had visited the Alahambra with a few fiends. Then SUnday night I hung out with a friend, when to bed and then…
Monday I woke up Monday morning at 7am, like most mornings here in Spain. The difference was that I had this stong feeling (in my soul) that I needed to leave Granada, right now! So I spent most of the day letting this bouce around in my head. I was very quiet all day. I had a number of friends ask if I was okay because I was so quiet. By the time mass was over at 7pm I knew that I needed to leave Granada very soon, and I had a great sense of peace with this thought.
In no way did I feel that I was in danger, or that someone else was in danger. The feeling was just that I needed to leave. There was no reason why, just that I had spent enough time in Granada. Granada is a very odd place (which I have written about a few times before). I really believe it is a city that sucks you will. Not that is sucks your life, but you will. You just stop being productive. Time just seems to pass and nothing gets done. Not that I think that is bad and that productivity is the end all be all to everything. I enjoy a good few days on the beach as much as the next person. For me 25 days was becoming too much. It was is if my spirit was in molases. It wasn´t a phisical exhaustion, but a spiritual one. It was odd.
While at mass when I decided that it was time to go, there was an imedate sense of peace.
Getting ready to leave If I would have had my way, I would have packed my bags and left Monday night. I decided that it wouldn´t be fair to all of those I had spent time with to leave with out a big good bye. I had good bye´s. Too much drama for me. Mostly because I don´t think they are good bye. Life is way to long for there ever to be good bye. We can´t say good bye to something we are connected to.
So at about lunch time I started telling people that I was going to leave Wednesday morning. It was an amazing process. Most of my good friends in Granada were leaving this week anyway, but it was a unexpected for one of us to have such a radical chagne of plans. Each listen to what I was doing and why, asked lots of question about my reasoning. The questions, weren´t “have you lost your mind?¨but insted “I am trying to understand you and what you are feeling, because I care about you and know that we have so much to teach each other.” Not that I didn´t expect suport or understanding, but I didn´t expext one more chance to get to know these wonderful people in another, deeper way (I am going to write about the crew tomorrow).
When I told my buddy for Seattle that I was told that I needed to leave. Asked, “Who told you?” and pointed to the sky. All I needed to do to explains was say, “Yeah” and point to the sky.
Genio´s last night in town Since it was my last night in town, the crew decided that they needed to take me out, and keep me out past my bed time of 11:30. I was always the first to bed. Every time I gave my hugs and kisses in my exit I was always given way too much grief for going to bed so soon. “Stay with us. Life is too short to go to bed now. ” I am an old man and I can´t sleep in. The one night was was out till 4:30 I was still up at 9:15.
So we went out. Hung out in a plaza. Watched the sunset. Watched the street performers. Took lots of pictures. Then we wondered of for some tapas. At 12:15 I headed off to bed. I gave many hugs good bye. Kisses on the cheek, and they continued on in my honor until 4am. A fitting send of for me. Others going out for me till 4am on a school night.
Brakefast Wednesday I had breakfast Wednesday with the chicas from my building. Packed my things and headed to the bus staition, with out a plan.
I am just about to run out to time at the net cafe, so more on how I ended up in Valincia (and the amazing bus ride here) and where I am off to next tommorow.
Right now I am happy, safe, at peace, and already antisipating when my path is going to cross again with all these very cool people who have maked my life and soul. I came to Spain to work on Spanish and hang out with dancers. I did both of those things (though much more of the second than the first), but I never expected to transformed in the way that I have (which I still don´t know in what ways).
Off to get lunch and a nap.

Spent the weekend doing the tourist thing. Went to Cordoba to see a Catholic Church that became a mosque that became a Catholic chruch as the verious rulers changed. The really amazing thing, was the fact that they ´just kept adding stuff to the old structure. In the middle is a typical 15th centrury Catholic church. As you move your gaze from the auter to the right all of a sudden you are stareing at the inside of a mosque. It is stunning. Unfortually it was here that I realized my digital camera was broken. I am in the one of the most beautiful buildings I have ever been in in my life with out a working camera. I was able to borrow a friends camera, so I will tell much more about this when I post pictures.
Also went to the Alahambra on Sunday. It was the last strong hold and castle of the Moores before they were driven back to Africa. It is also the palace in which Christopher Columbus was given the Queens blessings (and money) to sail to India. Lots of pictures taken here as well. More details when I get home and can post photos.
Family Alert!!! I might not have time to post tomorow. If I don´t, know that I am still alive and safe. More details to come.