Can't Forget Sitges!

9-20-15
From One Beach Town to Another!
written : 11-20-15
   Soooo, somehow, I didn't have time (shocker!) with all the traveling I've been doing - to write about my day trip to Sitges with my program. Sitges, a tourist trap about 30 minutes to the north of  Barcelona, is known for its white, sandy beaches, colorful buildings, and beautiful old-fashioned architecture.
   And, before we got to Sitges, we got to tour the wine cellars of the famous Catalan cavas creators, Codorniu. "Cavas" is a Spanish wine which originated in Catalunya which is made from a process that mimics their French neighbor's process for champagne. (It can't be called champagne technically unless it is made in that specific region in France.) Codorniu began in 1551, but the family company really took off when one of the heirs of the company focused on publicity and planned ahead for the mass distribution of their cavas.
   On the tour, we enjoyed a tasting of two different types of the bubbly wine: a rose and a white cavas. (I liked the rose better.) After snagging some quick pics in the vineyard with a beautiful backdrop of the Spanish mountains, we hopped back on the bus and headed for Sitges!
   When we got to Sitges, we mosied on down towards the waterfront, where we winded through the cobbled streets with the multi-colored buildings surrounding us. Jess, Josh, and I had a lunch of bocodillos at a cafe and we weren't confident in our Spanish, so I remember looking at the contents of each sandwich and trying to decide which looked most appetizing. That way, we could each simply point and say, "Este, por favor. Y un cafe con leche." Done. Phew. Ordered in Spanish = check. And then you feel accomplished for getting through it, and now, after two months, it seems so funny. That was only the second time I had had cafe con leche, too. Ha! Both bocodillos and cafe con leche are old news now - still very delicious, but old news. I think that was when we really became friends with Josh, too, and started hanging around with him. It seems like soo long ago. He is someone who I feel I have known for ages. Josh is also one of those people who I feel like I could know for years and always be finding out more things about him. He is never boring; he seems to be multi-faceted, and he "knows a little bit about a lot of things." I love people like that! Probably because I want to be someone like that.
   We walked up to the fortress-like church over-looking the gorgeous turquoise water. Jess and I were making comments about how in awe we were, and Josh said dryly, "What? It's just your typical beach cathedral? Haven't you guys seen one before?"
  Jess and I cracked up!
  "Oh, NBD: just your everyday 'beach cathedral,'" Jess joked sarcastically.
   I added, "Yeah, they're all over the U.S., Jess. How have you not seen them?"
   The beach cathedral was simply - and I mean that literally because the architecture was very plain, simple, and beautiful. It was a stunning view: the greyish-white stone in the foreground and the pallet of bright buildings behind it.

* * *

   We went down to the beach and met up with Lynn, Liza, and Katie. We laid out our towels, pulled out our iPods or reading, and I put on sunscreen. And, I still find it funny because I was one of the ones in the group that needed it least, yet I was one to put it on. Some of them (cough, cough, Jess) thought they would "be fine" for two hours, which was all we had. Stupid white girl. Just kidding. No, but really. . .
   The next morning, Jess came into the kitchen as I was making my breakfast. I looked at her, and just said, "Wow."
   "I don't wanna talk about it," she replied monotonously.
   I laughed in response and went back to my toast, which was still not as burnt as her even though I left it in too long.
   So, back to Sitges.
   Sitges is the most beautiful beach I have ever seen. It was a scene from a World Traveler's calendar (which actually is a thing because I have one): the sun shining, warming my skin, a bright blue sky hanging above me, white sailboats floating lazily on the clear water, the beach cathedral standing tall in the background. I never wanted to leave.

That Night

To be continued . . .

6-15-16
   Now, I'll continue. (I hope you weren't holding your breath.)

   That night - i think - was the first night of the week of celebration dedicated to the patron saint of Barcelona, maybe of Catalonia. . . Eulalia. She was a thirteen-year-old virgin girl, who died a martyr and is celebrated because of it. A king attempted to kill her by burning, but she did not die. There is a street in the Old Town named after her because legend tells of her rolling to her death down the inclined street in a barrel stuck with sharp nails.
   Anyway, now there are fireworks on the Barceloneta on the first day of celebration. Jess and i ate dinner with Cristina and headed to the school (a meeting point we all knew how to get to) to meet up with Josh, Lynn, and Liza, three friends we had made from our program. (Sidenote: this is when i had asked Josh if he knew where the "big-ass fountain" was in the park. He said no. No worries, he does know where it is now.) We met them all at the school to head to the fireworks (a short walk), which were to start at ten. The beach was packed! We sat down on the beach as the first fireworks were starting. The fireworks were big and colorful (nothing compared to Lea's Firework Spectacular, of course, but still very good.)

   Afterward, Lynn, Liza, and Jess talked about going out somewhere to a bar. We didn't have class the next day, so i was down. Josh said he was gonna head home, so he headed to the Metro with us but said goodbye there then headed toward the Arc de Triomf, not Urquinaona like us. At this point, having been there only a week, we knew about three Metro stops in total: the one near where we lived, the one near school (Arc de Triomf), and the one near the ISA office (Urquinaona). The bar that Lynn and Liza knew about - they had gone earlier in the week - was an Irish bar called George Payne. And, in-coincidentally, it happened to be located right near the Metro stop Urquinaona.
   I hate to stereotype, but Lynn and Liza, being sorority girls, seemed like the right people to show me the ins and outs of going out. It turned out that i was right.
   It turned out to be a tourist bar where there was sometimes live music and always a Party Platter of drinks for a good deal. We got a Party Platter. For four euros each, we got a carafe of some possibly-vodka and juice of questionable fruit origin, eight shots, two Sex on the Beaches, and two Cosmos (or some fruity drink like that). Somehow, Lynn, Liza, and Jess ended up talking with a group of three guys, which seemed perfect: there were four of us, but Liza had a boyfriend - to the dismay of many European guys, i'm sure. Liza could easily have been plucked from an H&M catalogue, seamlessly blending into the backdrop of Barcelona with her very fashionable European style. She was a wavy-haired, dark brunette with pale Irish skin and freckles. Her blue eyes were usually bright with confidence. Lynn matched her friend in confidence, but that's where their similarities ended. Secretly a math nerd, Lynn was outgoing and funny. With straight and shiny, chestnut-colored hair and bronze skin, Lynn was curvier than Liza, but no less stunning. Lacking confidence, i looked up to them at the beginning of my trip. They were, well, cool.
   There was no live band, but that didn't stop some people from dancing - including me! One guy was dancing me and twirling me (a little tipsily) on the small space of floor between our high-top and the bar. I didn't care that he probably had drank one too many because, simply, it was fun! My friends teased me minimally when i rejoined them. Jess was at the high-top next to ours with one of the guys, speaking stuff i could not hear over the music and chatter. Lynn and Liza filled me in while the other two guys talked to each other for a minute.
   “Jess is speaking Catalan with that guy. She speaks Catalan! Did you know that?”

“Yeah,” i said. “She majors in it at her school.”

Their faces showed how impressed they were. I looked over at Jess, leaning toward the guy she was talking to while saying something animatedly.

i found out later that Jess gets a lot more confident in her Catalan after a drink or two. That night, when we were walking from where the taxi dropped us off to Cristina’s apartment, she spoke Spanish to me, saying it was important for us to practice. i just said “Si” when i thought appropriate because between the drinks she and i had, i knew our Spanish was not exactly top-notch. But that night was, so it didn’t matter.

We ended up talking to the guys who had gotten a table close to ours. They were hanging at our table with us, still sipping on our Party Platter, while Jess still talked with the Catalan guy at the next table. At least one of the other two was from another part of Spain, and just moved here to go to school. They had all met at their university, the Universitat Autonoma de Barcelona. We were all talking, exchanging histories, bios, and whatnot. (Sidenote: i quickly found out in Europe that – because a good amount of them learn English in school – it doesn’t make much sense to them for me to say i study “English” in college. I got the response from a guy one time, “But you already speak English!” Yeah, thanks, Einstein.)

An older guy (well, older for us – like 40 or something) came over with a Party Platter for us. Now, i’m not stupid, so i knew not to drink it. However, i was impressed with how Lynn and Liza approached the situation. Lynn had balls. But she was polite, too. He wanted to see us drink it. (We still weren’t done with the other one, and I wasn’t looking to get wasted, so I was buzzed and perfectly content.)

She told him right off the bat, “Okay, drink some.”

He said something about not putting anything in it, so why did he have to drink it?

“Oh, no, no, no, no,” she said when he tried to walk away, trying to hand the Platter back to him.

It was a weird situation, where he wouldn’t drink it, and we certainly weren’t about to. I don’t remember the other guys really jumping to our aid. . . Although, they might not have understood all of the English. . . Liza jumped in for backup for Lynn, just as insistent and immovable as she was, despite being smaller. i just sat there watching, not really sure what to do honestly; i mean, they were taking care of it.

Anyway, somehow the guys tried some of the drinks once the 40-year-old creep walked away, and they were not as suspicious as us. So, they got a free round of drinks. As far as we know, nothing bad came from drinking them.

After some more drinks and small talk, the guys said they wanted to take us somewhere. They told Jess’ guy about it, but they all told us it was a surprise. We were not too keen on that idea.

Lynn spoke for us when she said, “No, no, no. We’re not going to go with you for a surprise. You could rape us or something.”

They were insistent, of course. While Liza chatted with the guys, i asked Lynn if her and Liza were okay. They had been talking pretty loudly in the bar and being . . . umm silly, if you catch my drift. She made sure that the guys didn’t hear her tell me that her and Liza were fine in her normal voice. I breathed a sigh of relief. Jess wanted to go with her Spanish hottie. And we couldn’t let her go alone.  

As we walked on the sidewalk away from The George Payne, telling the guys that they better not try anything, i did the calculations in my head: 4 of us, only 3 of them, and i had sandals on so i knew i could run. Plus, even though they didn’t seem like the fighting sort, i thought we could take them. i felt somehow safer with Lynn and Liza – as if they had done this before or something! I know, it sounds stupid. But they had two things i didn’t: experience with guys and street smarts.

So, without knowing where we were going, we followed them. They told us that it was a great surprise. My brain was on high alert, the alcohol wearing off. Lynn and Liza were talking loudly with two of the guys and Jess had her arm hooked in Spanish Hottie’s. i watched them walk in front of us, laughing and flirting. i tried to remember everything that i thought might act as a sort of landmark for us if we had to find our way back. The truth was: i wasn’t worried about where the guys were guiding us; i was worried about when they might NOT guide us.

For the first time in my life, i did something – not stupid. Stupid i think i’ve done. No, this was . . . reckless, something rash. Something where your brain says, This probably isn’t the smartest choice. But my gut told me, You’ll be fine. You got this!

Luckily, my gut was right.

The guys led us to a very narrow-fronted building where one of them works, located in a busy square across from their university. We went up in a lift with them to the top of what – from the inside – looked like an apartment building or a hotel. It was about three or four stories high. Inside, the floors were covered in tiny black and white tiles in a mosaic pattern.

By the time the guy who works there unlocked the door on the landing of the third or so floor, we were all giggling with anticipation, while Lynn made jokes like “You better not try anything. I’ve seen the movie Taken!”

We were led through one of those offices that tries as hard as it can to not look like an office: you know, the over-stuffed couches and wing-backed chairs, , but the brochures and pamphlets on the quaint wooden side tables give it away. i looked at as many brochures as i could to try to figure out where we were. Unfortunately, they were all – shocker – in Spanish or Catalan. So i didn’t understand much. (Again, the alcohol had worn off for me at this point so my brain was in over-drive. And, i’ll admit that yes, it probably was a little paranoid of me to take one of the brochures when no one was looking, but just in case we needed to find that place again, i wanted as many clues as possible.) i was in the back of the line and felt like i was more tagging along on this adventure. So i was the last to see that we followed the guys onto a rooftop overlooking the lit square. There was even a small pool! i immediately went over to the railing-lined edge and took some pictures. It was so cool! The golden lights from the lampposts lining the square and the green and red stoplights all reflected in a silvery, golden glow in the wet tar in the square. It was lit up as if with Christmas lights – just mostly the white ones.

We hung up on the roof with the guys, Jess flirting with Spanish Hottie, Lynn and Liza joining the conversation, and me being simply amazed by the view. Of course, i made friends with the guy who had a girlfriend. But, we had some cool conversation. Turns out, he was a Media / Communications major, and being the lover of movies and English / Communications major, we had quite a lot to talk about.

i feel like that was the beginning of my adventures! i do. Because that was the first night i felt . . . different. Different than my regular, what-i-would-call-boring, goody-two-shoes self. i felt like i could break away from any expectations that anyone from back home might have of me – not go completely haywire. But just enough.

And, i found and i’m still finding now that once you deviate from those expectations that people have of you, well, it’s hard to go back. Humans are creatures of habit; they don’t like change.

i am . . . changed.