A Family Affair

On My 20th, 2009 my Mom arrived to Spain for her second visit.

To start the trip off, we went to Barcelona. I had been there once before but it was for a conference so I didn't have much time to do any "touristy" things. So we went for two days and saw everything we could possibly squeeze in, beginning with the cathedral.



While we toured they were having mass so I stopped to listen. I must say, I was quite heart-broken by what I heard. The priest was talking about heaven (a topic about which we all like to hear) and how we will spend eternity in the presence of God. That sounds great to me! But then he began to say that the way to heaven is by living a good life, and that those parents who love their children will baptize them so that, should they not live good lives, they will still be allowed to enter heaven. It broke my heart to see the people in the pews listening, knowing that they trust this man to give them words of life, and instead he is leading them down a road that leads only to death, for we know that "it is by grace you have been saved, through faith - and this not from yourselves, it is the gift of God - not by works, so that no man can boast." (Eph 2:8-9)

But I shall continue with our visit.

Later we went to the Aquarium, which is supposed to be the largest in Europe. If you want to make me happy, take me to the zoo or the aquarium. I will then be your best friend for life. This aquarium had a really awesome shark tank (the kind with the moving sidewalk and the tunnel effect) and I finally figured out what one of my favorite fish (to eat) is! Here in Spain you see "sepia a la plancha" on menus all the time, and I must say that it's quite delicious, but I've always wondered what the fish actually is. Well, it's cuttlefish! These guys:



I'll be honest, I'm glad I ate the fish before I saw the live version of it. I'm not sure I would have had the bravery to eat him knowing what he really looks like.

Our second day was our "Day of Gaudí". We went to the Sagrada Familia, Casa Batlló (but only from the outside, they were both expensive and the Sagrada Familia had a LONG line), and toured La Pedrera, which means "the rock quarry."



The top of the building looks like ice cream cones, but the outside of the building looks like smooth boulders (sort of), which is where it got it's name from.

Then on the 26th my sister, brother-in-law, his mom, and my niece and nephew came! I can't tell you how awesome it was to finally see them, and show them this place that has captured my heart, and see Garrett and Vivian who are so much bigger than they were the last time I saw them!

The first day they were exhausted, so to keep them awake I took them to the park where the kids played on the playground and fed ducks and goldfish in the pond, and then we ate at a neat little café before letting them crash at the apartment they had rented. Little did we know that our first day would leave such an impression on the kids. All week long all they wanted to do was go back to the park.



Really, who needs more than a playground and some ducks? Apparently that's the key to happiness in life. While you can't see the water, they're feeding the ducks in this picture.

I ended up spending the night at their apartment a few nights. Even when I didn't, usually they were just having breakfast when I arrived at their place, meaning that every morning I got to wake up to this:



After calling my sister's house my home for so long and living with them during my transition period, it sure felt good to see those precious faces in the morning again.

We also toured the palace, went to the zoo, rode the cable car over the city, had some of my friends over for dinner, saw a flamenco show, and visited the majority of the playgrounds in the city.

Now most people who know me well know that I'm terrified of birds. I had a bad experience. So at the zoo, we went to the bird show. It wasn't my idea, I can assure you of that. But I didn't want to be a party pooper and since everybody else was interested, I wasn't going to say anything. Besides, they're all trained birds, right? At one point a hawk flew out and landed on somebody in the audience's head, way on the other side of the stage. I thought, "whew! I'm so glad that's over there." And then...it flew over and landed on...my sister's head. Right next to me.

I knew what came next. I squeezed my fists, closed my eyes, and prepared myself for the worst. It hopped onto my head. I could feel it's claws in my scalp. I could feel it's mighty weight, pressing down on me. And just as soon as it began, it was all over.

I realize that my fear of birds is slightly irrational, therefore I don't jump and scream every time a pigeon crosses my path. But a hawk? On my head? Talk about immersion therapy. When I opened my eyes again I was laughing and crying, rational enough to recognize the humor in the situation but still unable to control the tears. My wonderful brother-in-law was astute enough to get a few seconds of the moment on video. I'm sure my red face will be posted all over the internet very soon.

On their next-to-last day we took a day trip to Segovia. We saw the Roman aqueduct (how can you miss it?) the cathedral, and the Cinderella Castle, as Vivian called it.




Finally it was time for them to go home, and I could hardly believe that it was over so quickly. Those eight days flew by and I think we only accomplished half of the activities planned, but that was okay, because the number one activity - just enjoying each other's presence - was completed. Saying goodbye at the airport I was able to laugh and have fun knowing that I'll be seeing them soon - in August, to be exact - when I move back to Texas. But until then, I've got a plethora of good memories to dwell on. :)

Family!!

I've been AWOL lately because

1) I've been busy

and

2) My family is here visiting.

So far it's been a pretty crazy adventure. There have been quite a few "blog worthy" moments (trip to the theatre, trying to make it to church, buying the wrong train tickets...) but the madness of our days seems to blur my memory so that I'm not quite sure just what I've done these past twelve days since my mom arrived, and I've even less an idea of what has happened since my sister, brother-in-law, his mom, and my niece and nephew arrived last Tuesday.

But I hope to regain my mental capacities in a short while and when I do, I'll be sure to fill you in on all the quirky details.

Art and Ice Cream

One of the things I love about Europe is the art.

It's accessible to the public.

It's often free (or at least there are certain times when it's free).

It's everywhere - in museums, in parks, on buildings, in the streets.

Art is a daily part of life.

Classic.

Modern.

Historical.

Paintings.

Sculptures.

Video.

Music.

Crazy modern things that have no names.

It's everywhere and in everything.

You just can't help but appreciate it:

But sometimes you find it in the most unlikely places.

Like in a bathroom.

On the towel dispenser.

It doesn't surprise me to find a sticker like that in a bathroom. Given that it's a kid having a poo while reading a book, I can't think of a more appropriate place to put it than a bathroom, except maybe a library bathroom.

But what I wonder is, who thought it would be a good idea to make a sticker with a silhouette pooper?

Who decided to print those up?

What purpose was it meant to serve, if any?

What did the man at the sticker factory think of them?

Where did they sell the stickers? Are they still for sale? Can I buy some?

What kind of label did they put on them?

"Stinker Sticker?"


In other news, last week was FREE ICE CREAM DAY at Ben & Jerry's, which is only the most delicious ice cream that ever existed. If it weren't for the price, I would prefer it even to Blue Bell ("GASP!" go all the Texans).

My friend Kaotar and I met up to go get some free scoops, but before we could go she had to give something to Aisha, who was taking care of sweet little Ayu for the afternoon. As Aisha had nothing to do, and Ayu is 5, we decided to all go together. Who can't resist free ice cream?

We started out at the Ben & Jerry's at Sol and ate our scoop as we walked to Plaza Mayor where the other Ben & Jerrry's is located. On the way we saw musicians, clowns, a crazy llama dude, a magician, a man covered in plastic fruit, and various other street statue/performer people.

Ayu was in heaven. He got TWO WHOLE SCOOPS of ice cream AND saw all kinds of fun things in shop windows AND got his picture taken with the man covered in plastic fruit. What 5 year old wouldn't love that?

Aisha and Ayu left us and then Katoar and I continued on to meet my friend Paola for a third scoop of the deliciously sweet frozen calories. And it was worth each and every one of them. :)

María

The first time I saw María I was waiting for my drink at the end of the bar in Starbucks. Suddenly her little head ran across the store at table height as she accosted Roberto, who was making my tall mocha (two pumps, no whip cream), and demanded, "Give me a chocolate!"

Roberto was caught off-guard by her boldness. He hesitated.

"Um, go ask your parents."

And off she went, running back to the register where her father was ordering a frappaccino.

A few weeks later I sat by myself in a nook of four comfy armchairs and her parents approached and asked, "do you mind if we sit here?"

I recognized the tiny-tot immediately.

They sat and the madness began. All the energy of an atomic bomb, the cuteness of a toddler, the sass of a teenager, and an ability of speech far beyond my own wrapped up in a tiny little three year old adult with marker all over her face. Her parents are both actors, and it doesn't take long to realize that María has inheirited the drama-gene, particularly of the comedic variety.

Tonight I saw her family sitting by the door and waved from across the café. Not five minutes later while I sat on my comfy sofa chair María, accompanied by her mom, dad, two of their friends and her baby brother joined me and a poor, slightly overwhelmed stranger in my nook, bringing with them all the noise and energy they could offer. Apparently María wanted to say hi to me, and since they were sitting by the door in a cold draft and saw that I was by myself in a warm corner, they decided to relocate all together so that I would have some company and they could have some warmth. :)

Tonight María had a butterfly, heart, and a flower drawn on her face. She wore a brightly striped dress over a purple long-sleeved shirt and kelly-green aladdin pants. She looked just like a little hippy, without a care in the world.

At one point her mother told her that I'm studying their language. I said, "that's right, so I'm still learning how to speak like you" and she told me that her brother only knows how to say, "AAAAHHH." Well, I suppose that makes sense, seeing as how he's not yet a year old.

Then she pulled up her sleeve, bent her arm and stuck her elbow out, pointed at it and said, "look at this!"

Thinking there must be a boo-boo or a freckle of some sort, I asked, "what is it?"

She responded with, "my elbow, of course!" and looked at me as if I were the most dense person she had ever met. How could I not know what an elbow was?

We all had a good laugh and then I said, "Yes, but what's on it?" (Keep in mind that the word of "on" is the same as the word for "in").

"Bone," with a sweet smile.

Of course. Common sense.

She then extended her arm so that her elbow disappeared and declared, "and now it's gone! It's magic!"

She then took an umbrella, dropped it behind her and held up her empty hands while saying, "ta da!"

We asked, "where did it go?"

"It flew away."

Simple as that. The umbrella flew away.

Can we all go back to being three again? How much fun would that be? We can jump in puddles, make our lap disappear, and drink caramel cream frappaccinos without worrying about how many calories we're consuming.

Life is so beautiful when you're three. :)

Paris, City of Light

Last week, another childhood dream became a reality:

I went to Paris!!


The week before Easter is "Spring Break" not only for all the students here, but also for the majority of work force. Last year, I was uninformed of the mass exodus of the general populace and was left alone with no friends and nothing to do. It was lame, to say the least.

I decided that this year would be different. No lonely Laura in 2009. No sir-ee.

So I took part in the coordinated, overpriced group exit of the country and went to Paris with a few friends, along with a third of the rest of the country.

Now, some people rave about how absolutely faaa-bulous Paris is, while others shrug and say, "it's alright."

And of course, we all hear stories about how rude the French are.

And let's face it: I've come across some of those French who have left such a "memorable" impression on the rest of the world and thus marred the French reputation for all eternity.

But I must say: everybody was so polite, helpful, even friendly. I was very pleasantly surprised. Not that they all wanted to best friend, but I had already accepted that not everybody says "Howdy" a few months after leaving Aggieland (otherwise known as Utopia).

We saw just about everything there is to see in Paris, at least as much as our budgets would allow. We saw (and went to the top of) the Eiffel Tower:

We took a day trip to the palace in Versailles:

We went to the Louvre:


And we picnic-ed and ate pastries in the park, surrounded by tulips:


In general we had great weather. It rained a few times, but mostly while we were inside museums, and when we did have to face the elements, we chose to enjoy the moment rather than run for cover:


I am now one of those who will rave about how faaaaa-bulous Paris is. Yes, it is overpriced, but that's the reason why I ate homemade salad and leftover lasagna every night for the past month, and it was worth every bite of frostbitten veggie lasagna.

Speaking of being a thrifty spender, my dad would be very proud of me.

At the airport while trying to decide which overpriced meal we were going to purchase, I noticed a tray of trash, just waiting for the food court employees to throw to the trash can, with a sad, lonely, unopened yogurt.

That yogurt called to me.

It cried out for help.

"Laura! Save me! They're going to throw me away! Don't let them throw me away! I haven't expired yet! I'm still cold! I must be eaten!"

I looked around.

Nobody was coming to claim that tray of trash.

I waited a minute.

Still nobody.

So I saved the yogurt from a sad, lonely fate in the trash can, where he didn't belong.



And it was tasty, too.

After 5 full days of fun, from 4:30am Monday morning to 2am Friday night (Saturday morning), we were pooped!

Paris may have been expensive, and our hostel may have been creepy, but it was worth every penny spent and parasite we might have contracted. I look forward to the day I go back.

Dreaming About Doughnuts

They say that what you eat influences what you dream.

Lately I've been eating a lot of salad (spinach salad, to be exact), and having a lot of tasty (and guilty) dreams.

For example, the other night I dreamed that I went to Dunkin' Donuts and ate a glazed chocolate cake doughnut (the same kind in the picture above), but then I saw that they had cinnamon rolls and I really, really wanted one because they looked just like the ones they sold at the doughnut shop down the street when I was a kid (do you remember those, Mom? They were soooo good). I struggled with the decision: eat a cinnamon roll, even though you've already had a doughnut? Or do the right thing and walk on by? I'm pretty sure I ate the cinnamon roll, since I woke up feeling guilty.

Then I went to Starbucks, but instead of being a customer, I worked there. People kept on ordering a "café cortado" but the espresso machine gave me a different amount each time, so I couldn't get the coffee to milk ratio right. How frustrating! Not to mention that you can't actually get a "café cortado" at Starbucks. But hey - anything can happen when it's a dream!

Hm. So I ate salad, and I dreamed about doughnuts, cinnamon rolls, and coffee. Interesting.

Then last night (after eating salad again) I dreamed that I was walking through the Hipercor grocery store looking for some kind of pink yummy deliciousness (it was a made up pastry that surely doesn't exist in the non-dream world). While walking through the aisles I saw all kinds of ham, chorizo, and sausages, peanut butter, and various other tasty eats while in search of my mysterious pink baked good. My alarm clock woke me up before I was able to find it, so at least I was saved from the stress of having to decide if one moment of heaven for my taste buds was worth the miles I would have to run to undue such catastrophic caloric havoc.

After eating salad for dinner two nights in a row, I've dreamed about sugary-sweet, baked confections two nights in a row.

So I'm wondering: if tonight I eat doughnuts for dinner, will I dream about salad?

Friends! Bowling! Food! Fire!

Last Thursday night while facebook stalking, I realized that somebody was passing through my town. And that somebody was...

Amber!!

Amber and I were in Phi Lamb together at A&M (and IMPACT, too) and I hadn't seen her in a year and a half. She didn't even realize I was living here, so she had already been here 2 or 3 days when I found out she was in town. Luckily, she had a phone so we were able to coordinate and get together for a few hours Friday afternoon. What a happy surprise!

Then on Saturday night, my home group from church went bowling.


I started the night off with a strike! I was hoping that was a good sign, but alas, my luck slowly ran out from there. I LOVE bowling, but I'm really hard on myself because I took a class at A&M and therefore should theoretically be a super bowler. Sadly, however, I am not. I'm pretty good at knocking down 9 pins but I can just never seem to get all 10! Despite my sad score I still had a great time.

Then my friend Damaris invited me to her parent's house for Sunday lunch.


We had a dish called "Cocido" which basically means "cooked." It's a traditional dish all over the country, but each region has it's own special way of doing it. At her parents house, we started with a soup with a thick broth and noodles. Here I am with my soup:


Then you have a selection of other ingredients, that you can either add to the soup to make a stew, or eat separately. Like this cabbage:



I chose to eat mine all together, like a stew on steroids:



My plate included cabbage with fried garlic, garbanzo beans, chicken, a pig's ear, some other kind of meat (it was good, whatever it was), and chorizo.

Chorizo is one of my favorite things ever. Too bad it makes you fat (everything good does).


The pig's ear, however, was not my favorite. It didn't taste bad, but in general I don't like eating stuff that has skin on it. Even chicken, unless that fatty chicken skin is super crispy, I don't care for it. And well, pigskin is no better. The meat was fine, but the skin...was kinda like a chewy, tasty football. But hey, at least now I know!

Then on the way home from church that night I hopped on the metro only to smell something like burning rubber. At first it was just a smell, but soon the car began to fill up with smoke. We all got off and saw that the smoke was coming from underneath where we had been sitting. The driver ordered everybody off and soon somebody had a fire extinguisher and put out the flames. I walked a little ways off from the scene and took a picture after the fact:


It may look like any normal metro station, but what you can't see in this picture is the smoke. There was a lot of it, but because it was a few cars down the platform (I didn't want to take a picture right where it happened - what if it blew up or something?) and a bit had cleared by the time I got my camera out, you can't see just how dramatic the scene was. But use your imagination. There was a lot of smoke.

In case you're wondering (and I'm sure my mom is), I did NOT get back on the metro that night. I walked the 25ish minutes home from there in the cold, dark night. :)

In other news, I ate a pomegranate today and got juice all over my shirt. I have a feeling this shirt will never be the same colo(u)r again.