The Adventures of Harold and Harold and Their Tribe of 17

Last week went by in sort of a blur.  I'm not even sure what I did Monday to Thursday afternoon and I feel like that's a glimpse of what my life is to become with a 9-5 job.  Realistically, I will probably have a 9-5 job in my first years of full-time employment but let's hope it doesn't last.

All I have to remember the days before Thursday are some photos of a delicious dinner I cooked with my fellow Diana.  We're now known as D², the 2-woman, Korean-American, Jersey-native team of rising juniors that feeds the six hungry girls in our two apartments that share a tiny antechamber.  We ourselves affectionately call each other Harold and Harold.

Bowtie pasta and meatballs in a tomato-garlic sauce

Salad with cherry tomatoes, green apple, artichoke,

queso calabrales (Spanish blue cheese), onion, and balsamic vinaigrette

Green beans blanched and sauteed with garlic, onion, cracked pepper, salt and lime

The next thing I remember is the summer solstice, aka St. John's Eve in English, Noche de San Juan in Spanish, or Nit de San Joan in Catalán.  On the longest day of the year, nightfall is greeted with drinking, debauchery, and a whole lot of amateur firecrackers.  The celebrations are especially festive down on the beach in Barcelona where throngs of natives and tourists share the special occasion in a common space.

A less than impressive shot of a less than impressive firecracker

So fearing that I might miss out on something special, I went down to the beach with a crowd of very inebriated individuals while I myself remained painfully sober.  But thank goodness I was.  It really wasn't anything special, just an excuse for 5 year-olds to finally convince their wary parents to let them set off a potentially very dangerous mini-explosive; I finally understood why so many of the Barcelona natives I spoke to grimaced at the sound of Sant Joan...

In spite of the firecrackers that continued past 1 AM, I managed to fall asleep so I could get up by 7, pack, and buy a train ticket to join the 17-person expedition to Valencia.  In spite of the night prior, all of us except one made it onto the train.  The last of us failed to buy a ticket in advance and didn't wake up early enough to buy one Friday morning and missed our train by just a few minutes.  With luck however, he got another ride down with a different rail company and joined us a few hours later.

Leaving from the cosmopolitan hub of Barcelona means elbowing through the crowd to get into a car as soon as the train pulls up to the platform to get a seat; it's as bad as Penn or Grand Central.  I used my life experience squeezing under arms and angling myself to get through busy NYC streets, subways, what have you to snag myself one of the last remaining seats.  The rest of us were not so lucky.

Sleeping on the floor hugging a pillow in upright fetal position.

He's from Indiana, clearly

 Valencia is a Mediterranean city 5 hours south of Barcelona.  Second only to the views from the train winding through the Sacred Valley along the Urubamba River in Peru, the views on this ride were a perfect union between mountains and greenery to one side and the endless sea to the other.

I don't mind long rides as long as I get a chance to stretch my legs and it's air-conditioned when need-be.  Not all of us are so patient, especially if you're a chain-smoker.

Known lovingly as "Frankie Fuma", (fuma meaning smokes) our resident cigarette addict 

 just minutes before arriving in Valencia

Swathed in his towel and itching to get off the train for a smoke

Frankie actually got a chance to smoke midway when the train stopped at an outdoor station.  He stood outside the doors and was just at the filter when the doors began to close and he had the cat-like reflexes to jump back in sideways.  

We got into beautiful Valencia at just past 2.  We took a 1.30 euro bus-ride to the beach to find the beach-front villa we would be inhabiting for the weekend.

Pupster chilling on a window sill...

...a full story up

Dogs don't have as many lives as cats and yet this little one has the cojones to chill up there

Although we were 5 people over the dozen-person limit on the rental, we hid the boys (they ate kebab around the corner while we signed some final papers) and told the proprieter we were a bachelorette party.  It was a credible story since bachelorette parties are so popular here in Spain and yet unbelievable considering we're just in our early 20's (oh, whaaat?!) while I look fresh out of junior high with my braces.  But we managed and entered through the cheap, white, tin gate/fence.

Through the gate stands our house

The courtyard and extra bedroom across the way

View of the beach across the street from the second floor

In spite of the poor first impression, I was pleasantly surprised upon entering.  It was luxurious: spacious, well-furnished with new kitchen appliances and showers equipped with massaging showerheads.  All this for just 56 euros a person for the whole weekend.  Albeit, there was only enough bed space to accommodate a dozen people but I do love me some couch.  I was elated. 

It was already 6:30 by the time I reached the beach but when the sun sets at 9:30, that's plenty of time.  I didn't get in the water but I got to "enjoy" my new book lounging on the fine beige sand that made Barcelona's beaches seem rocky.  (I used quotes around "enjoy" because I'm currently reading Adam Hoschchild's King Leopold's Ghost, a historical chronicle of the mass murder and mutilation--genocide--of millions of Congolese for the scramble to harvest rubber under the reign of the 19th century Belgium king.  I'm not sure you can enjoy that).

As night fell, I took a stroll down the boardwalk with some of my fellow beach bums to buy a cheap towel because I wasn't smart enough to pack mine.  I stopped by an elderly woman selling charcoal-grilled corn on the cob on the street and bought a pair of salted sweet corncobs to share with my friends.

Nothing says summer like multicultural friendships and corn

The husks act as natural holders to keep us from burning our hands!

Upon our return, I made a dinner costing just 20 euros in groceries with the help of my sous chef, Diana #2. For 17 people, that means just over 1 euro a person.  Maybe I could raise a small tribe of a family after all...

Two heaping plates of fusilli with cheesy vodka sauce, one heaping plate with cheesy cream sauce, and the last with a creamy cheese sauce with tomato later, I was getting hugs and kisses left and right and feeling triumphant.  The rest of the night would be spent washing down dinner with cups of wine and rum & cokes.

"Oh dear no!  You can't eat all of that!"

He didn't.

Half of us turned in by around 1 AM after a long day of traveling while a small group of us stayed up and got a little discussion seminar going on the difference between acceptance and understanding when it comes to race and the LGBT community in particular.  The discussion was led by our resident homosexy man.  I knew that I had made THS and Wesleyan proud at this moment, my liberal education compelling me to sit in on one of the only somewhat intellectual conversations I've had access to since coming to Barcelona.  Finally, a night when I wouldn't have to listen to someone speak without hearing the words "tan" or "blackout" every four breaths.

A while after 2 AM had come and gone, I made my couch with a cushion and a bed sheet draped over the whole thing.  When a cockroach was spotted just five feet from my "bed", I called for my favorite means of tackling a bug problem: the cup.  After trapping that prehistoric monster of an insect, we all settled into sleep.

In the morning, I woke up to Diana #2 staring over me.  "Are we going?" she whispered loudly in a weak effort to not wake the rest of our sleeping family, silent but for the light snoring coming from unidentifiable corners of the house.  I checked my phone and it was 7:50, still 10 minutes before my alarm would go off to get me to the beach.  So conceding to the pleadings of my vivacious and chipper alter ego, I rolled off the couch to get my morning routine started.

Horror.

Ants.  Armies, no an entire diaspora of the ant species was marching through our house.  They were on the toilet, on the counters, on the bed, in our bags, and worst of all, in the kitchen.  I wanted to faint.  Yes, I did see a couple on some beds the night before which is why I chose the black leather couch which seemed not to be attracting any at all but I didn't realize the extent of the infestation.  A cockroach last night and now this?  Ants make my skin crawl, they make me feel like I'm being eaten alive as the little critters crawl through my pores and into the deepest recess of my soul where they can drive me clinically insane.  After a few minutes of deep breathing though, I managed to collect myself and stand on a clean tile in the kitchen and drink my pineapple-coconut yogurt beverage.  I was so glad I didn't offer to make eggs and bacon for breakfast; it would take a lot to get me back to cooking in that kitchen.

I quickly escaped outside where there were no insects.  Not surprising because they were all in our house.  I stepped onto the sand, still cool from the night before, the sun warming the air and a cool breeze sweeping over the sea and onto my freckled face.  Bliss.

D² took a short nap before taking a walk down the shore and jogging back to create enough heat to want to plunge into the still cold waters.  Don't get me wrong, it's still warmer than Barcelona's waters and infinitely warmer than the Atlantic this time of year.  We happily bobbed in the water like little ducklings before rinsing off and getting ready to tour the town.

People cleaning the beach

Of course, this is the day I forget to pack my iPhone and I don't have any of my own photos.  I also didn't take any pictures of the house either out of laziness or forgetfulness but either way, I've had to learn how to take screen shots on my Mac and crop and re-save photos from other people's albums on facebook to get some important images to you, all during the last four hours.  It's making this blog post the most labor-intensive yet.  Anyway...Valencia.

We spent the afternoon in the Citutat de les Arts i les Ciencies, the emblematic cultural center of the city consisting of a futuristic complex of various modern architectural feats of genius.  The first half of the afternoon was spent running around the famous aquarium, a giant water park for imprisoned sea-creatures.  I didn't realize that there would be mammals (i.e. dolphins) in this aquarium and I regret not being dedicated enough to the message of "The Cove" to resist visiting.  Forgive me Ric O'Barry!

L'Oceanográfic aka aquarium

more aquarium

The aquarium really was impressive though.  Most of it is underground so you can see seals and beluga whales swimming in depressingly repetitive circular patterns over and over and over again.  Nevertheless, it's an impressive testament to the ability of mankind to build things that look cool and imprison/house water-dwelling creatures.  On the upside, I did read a sign that said that the sea turtles kept at this institute (which serves also as a research facility) are temporary patients being rehabilitated before being shipped back into the wild.  If only they would do that for the rest of the animals so it would be less of a prison and more of a vacation spot, albeit a strange one.

A seal taking it easy

Like the other state-of-the-art giant fishtanks I've been to (Georgia and Coex-Seoul), there are tunnels in the tanks so you can feel like you're walking on the sea floor with rays swimming above you and luminous little jellyfish bobbing about in a tank all their own so they seem like pink space fairies in a space pod.  While using the bathroom, I learned this fun-fact: jellyfish consist of 90% water.  Dear God, I can't tell if you got lazy with the jellyfish design or if its your minimalist masterpiece.  Anyway, while the shark exhibit was probably my favorite (I like sharks but don't mind them being kept in tanks because they're big fish and not highly intelligent mammals), they didn't have my favorite type of shark which is the whale shark, the B.F.G. of the great big blue.  Atlanta 1 - 0 Valencia.  Oh well.

With just a few hours of sleep and tons of walking in the flattest of flat sandals, I was ready to turn in but with only one night left and none of Sunday to sightsee, I sucked it up Jihae-style and trooped on.  I was not sorry I did.

Recessed so that you can look down into it from street level is the base of the "city" of arts and sciences. there are vast shallow pools of water you can cool your feet down in which is exactly what I did before embarking on a walking tour of the tiny city.

A mobile brontosaurus sculpture

Pool under what I'm guessing is a bridge

A view

And another

And another!

So many photo ops

Postcard-worthy photos above (c) Frankie Fuma

Hungry, hot, and sweaty, we went to a mall across the street to snack and browse the shops. I split an amazing döner kebab with a friend before walking around the air-conditioned centro comercial to stumble upon a magical little shoe store where I bought...

Ta-da!

My go-to Fall 2011 shoes.  For 50 euros, I considered this a deal considering it's made in Spain with Spanish leather and constructed with such precision that if it were a piece of writing, I would comment on how nicely all the i's were dotted and t's were crossed.  Enough about the shoes.

I was desperate to get back for just a little bit of sun.  Unfortunately, the sun had already set by the time we got back so I settled for a yoga session with my eager disciples.  I tailored my old Vinyasa routine from second semester freshman year for the boys.

Finding our balance

Found it

And extend into reverse dancers

I then made them hop back to our beach towels Korean army style, something I learned Thanksgiving 2010 from my brother-in-law. 

They didn't actually make it all the way.

By the time I was back and showered, I discovered that the mosquitos had gotten to me and that I was swelling up everywhere.  I took a shower, was gifted a benedryl, and passed out in the midst of epic partying.  When I woke up in the morning, the ants were still marching and there were remains of someone's puke in the bathroom that was attracting ants up onto the bathroom counter.  Just a few more hours is all I could think.

I bolted out early in the A.M. to get a head start on my beach day and stayed there all day, spending most of my time swimming and lying on the rolling (nonviolent unlike the Jersey shore) waves.  The saltwater soothed my 20-something mosquito bites and I relaxed until we had to move out.  

The 5 hour train ride back to Barcelona quickly became 6 hours with extended stops at different stations and felt even longer when we realized we were sitting in the only un-air-conditioned car on the train.  I fanned myself for the last 2 hours straight, resting only a few times to prevent carpal tunnel syndrome.  It was 11 PM by the time we were back and it was the last night of a very festive Gay Pride weekend (Barcelona has a very large and vibrant gay community with Sitges surpassing San Francisco as the gay capital of the world, just right next door).  In spite of the pain and the itching, the sweat and sand stuck in my hair and pores as I didn't have the chance to shower before leaving Valencia, I happily stood in the midst of the celebration before making the last leg of my journey home.  

After taking a cold shower punctuated with hot sprays of water to kill the nerves in my mosquito bites, I sat down at my computer and opened up my gmail to find some long-awaited good news:  Marriage Equality in New York.  So yeah, I had to encounter a cockroach in my own habitat for the first time in something like 13 years, I got up to thirty mosquito bites everywhere on my body, I was tired, dirty, smelly, hungry, and burdened with a whole lot of dirty laundry, but that was okay because the world was becoming a better place and the universal jubilation was drowning out my complaints until even I couldn't hear them anymore.