#livethatdream

After visiting France, I was happy to spend a quiet weekend in Madrid with Valerie. We were so pleased to be together and to enjoy ourselves in that beautiful city!

(Valerie and I went to one of her favorite bookshops: La Central)

We had a grand old time:

(Val and her wonderful boyfriend, a PhD student named Jesus)

(The Christmas lights at el Mercado de San Miguel)

The next weekend, John came to Barcelona. My wonderful friends Pam and Eric Fitz (Americans from Colorado Springs--we met through my car insurance agent Brad) were going to Estonia for Christmas, so they loaned us their gorgeous house in Masnou, up the coast from Barcelona, for our entire stay in the city.

(My first tortilla de patata was a smashing success)

The house Pam and Eric live in was built in the 1880s or 90s. It features hand-painted vaulted ceilings and multiple stories of artistic tiling as well as a back yard with lemon and orange trees. Also in the back yard is a tunnel behind a fountain that leads to the other house: it was an escape route during the Spanish Civil War of 1936-1939--now Pam and Eric use it as a wine cellar.

The weather was beautiful. On our first day we went down to the beach and while we were looking for shells, John asked me to marry him! 

(Before)

(After)

As you can imagine, the rest of our trip was full of champagne and celebration. I’ve spent the last ten days preoccupied with taking photos of the ring:

Also, I had planned four Christmas surprises for John, and they all went off very well!

We went to a bar famous for its gin:

(My hand is at my side because he hadn’t given me my ring yet)

We went to my favorite upscale restaurant in Born, Tantarantana:

We checked out La Opera Samfaina‘s tapas tour:

And finally, we had a Christmas dinner with a family of Catalans followed by a cooking lesson from a Catalan grandma.

Abuelita loved John. (I do, too)

Catalonia had an election on the 21st of December for a new government, and many of the ministers elected were indepentistas, but not all. For now, Spain has more Christmas-season vacation days than almost any other country in Europe, so nothing is happening in the government, no protests have been organized or executed, and all is relatively peaceful and cheerful.

Also, the tourism industry, which was severely affected by the independence referendum in the fall, resulting in the worst low season my company has ever seen, bounced back for the holidays. The streets are full of cheerful and New Year’s travelers, just in time for our 60-degree winter weather.

My flight leaves tomorrow for Jerusalem, so I’ll take lots of pictures and keep you updated on that adventure!

If you want all the boring details of the difficulty leading up to the selection of my final return date, look no further. I’ve got them right here:

La oficina

Nine am last Monday morning found me shivering outside another government building. I was number 142 on the sign-up sheet, but when the policeman came to me he looked at my American passport and said, “te vas a la fila de informacion” and pointed to another line up by the door, this one with five people in it.

I thanked him and moved to the other line. When I had moved up enough to get inside, my line bent around (around...) the walk-through metal detector in front of the door. Another policeman, this one more gruff than the last, pointed me to stand against the wall while I waited my turn.

When I finally made it to the front of the line twenty minutes later, I was called up to a desk where the bookish DMV-esque official asked, “estadounidense?”. When I nodded, he took out a piece of paper and explained to me that I was at the wrong office. The office I needed to be at was near Avinguda de Parallel in the city center.

I walked out buoyed up with hope: I live a block from this office.

So the next morning I picked up my official job offer and my student visa and I decided to do a preliminary check at this government office to see how long the line was.

To my surprise, this Oficina de Extranjeria (foreigner’s office) had no line at all. I walked in, got a number, took a seat, and fifteen minutes later was called up to speak to an official.

It was the first time I had spoken with someone who wasn’t in a hurry, with someone who answered my questions, with someone who didn’t shrug a single time during our conversation. When I asked her how to get an NIE she said simply, “You can’t. We don’t give those to Americans.”

I asked her how to formalize my employment under my student visa and she helpfully pulled out a six-page packet outlining the requirements of working on a student visa: organizations would have to provide me an hourly schedule of my time and after amassing all the official paperwork my employer was required to personally accompany to me to the appointment to certify the truthfulness of the application and to express the necessity of having me work for their company.

I remembered a story my boss had told me where he asked a social security official in Barcelona (during a routine shake-down of the bar), “What is this, Nazi Germany?” and the official had responded, “Yes. It is.”

I swallowed, underlined, asked questions, and wrote notes in the margin of the packet. When she had satisfied all my inquiries, I thanked the woman and left to start on the process of achieving an extension for my student visa.

Back at my apartment, I immediately found two problems with my visa extension application: I had to provide proof of my health insurance (no deductible, one million euros coverage--didn’t have this) and proof of funds (a bank statement showing five thousand or so dollars in an account under my name--didn’t have this).

Both of these things could be done, but I could work on them tomorrow. For now, I decided to start the process of changing my flight home from January 24th to later in the year.

It turns out that you have to call the airline company directly to inquire as to the cost of a booking change, but as soon as I heard the words, “Welcome to Norwegian Airlines--” the recording was cut off by my cell phone company telling me I was out of minutes.

I began to feel the weight of discouragement pressing down on me, and while I sat on my couch it occurred to me to pray and ask God what to do. Why hadn’t I thought of that yet?

I prayed, got up, and went to the kitchen to make myself some tea, and while I was making tea I suddenly thought, why am I even staying here?

And little blog, for the first time, I didn’t have a good answer to the question.

New Plan

Some of my friends were hoping to visit me here in Barcelona in the Spring--only one of them had already bought a ticket, my friend Karissa, so I ran to my phone to find the dates of her trip.

Thankfully it turned out that her trip coincides almost exactly with the last six days before I go home--now instead of working and visiting with her, I can plan to finish my job(s) a week before I leave the country and she and I can just vacation! Praise GOD!

By the end of Tuesday, what had started out as tentative certainty became absolute. It took me about a week to tell my friends all around the world that I’m going home on January 24th (I set it up on a sliding scale of easiest to hardest so that I would be more encouraged as I went along). Almost every conversation went better than I thought it would and I found that instead of feeling like I had failed, I really just feel relieved. Now I won’t have to stand in line at government offices in the mornings anymore. Now I won’t have to take showers with five minutes of hot water at a time during February. Now I can use my deposit to pay my final month’s rent. 

I still haven’t told my client Ana, though. I teach English to her two little boys on Tuesday nights and she’s going to be heartbroken. Her family are the most wonderful Catalan people I’ve met.

On Wednesday I spent the morning planning weekend trips to the places I wanted to visit while I was here: France, Madrid, and Jerusalem. My flight schedule home was changed so now I’m spending 22 hours in London on my way home, too! 

Since all of my private English lessons are Tues-Wed every week, I’ll be able to travel on weekends and still teach private lessons. I received my boss and supervisor’s blessing at TravelBar to spend three days a week doing all my work (and to go home: “you gotta do what’s right for you, kid”), and I’m free to spend my last seven weeks adventuring! Wow! It was easy!

New Blog

My current project at Tour Barcelona (TravelBar’s parent company) is to write a blog for their hen do (that’s British for “bachelorette party”) company, so right now I’m spending about six hours a week writing blog posts about wedding venues and photographers and dresses in Barcelona. 

Here are the blog posts I’ve done so far:

https://travelbar.com/beautiful-wedding-gowns-barcelona/

https://travelbar.com/barcelonas-11-best-wedding-venues/

https://travelbar.com/barcelonas-top-wedding-photographers/

https://travelbar.com/top-9-hen-party-activities-barcelona/

It’s fun! The web developer hired by Tour Barcelona says he likes my writing style and we think I’ll be able to be completely done with blog posts by mid-January.

Perfect.

I know I decided I was going home in two months, but I’m not there yet, for now: France, Madrid, John, Jerusalem.

And thankfulness.

A man’s heart devises his way: but the Lord directs his steps. 

He came to Barcelona!

John and I had an incredible week together. I never understand why, but a lot of people don’t seem to want to hear about other people’s romantic relationships, so I’ll just say this: I love him a lot more (and differently) than when I left, and our relationship is more and more like home.

*phew*. We made it through it, guys.

I always say that I could be entertained if John and I were chained to an oar, so us being together in this gem of Europe was glorious good fun. John ordered all his own food in Spanish and whenever I could, I prodded him to be the first to speak to waiters, bartenders, and locals. He picked up an impressive amount of Spanish, and afterward each conversation I would translate to him exactly what he had said, (”and then you said....’nice to meet you’! Ha!”) so that we could have a good laugh and he could learn more. 

And so that I could laugh.

(Seriously, little blog, there’s a danger here. A year ago I taught him to drive a stick shift, but when I did it, I spent so little time helping him and so much time laughing at him that I spoiled manual driving for him forever. He won’t do it anymore.)

At the end of this post are some pictures from our week. :)

The apartment saga continues! Please pray for me that everything in my apartment keeps working!

The day before John came, you see, my internet went out. Today is the first day I’ve had internet again in my apartment.

On Monday, I wandered sleepy-eyed into the kitchen and nearly slipped in an enormous pool of water. This time it was the pipe under the sink: it was dripping slowly and steadily.

The plumber still hasn’t come for that one and tomorrow is (yet another) Spanish festival day, so there’s little hope of his arrival until Thursday. 

But I will prevail! We will keep bowls under the sink for as long as it takes! We have internet! We have food!

I’m still really enjoying being a tour guide. It’s amazing to me how much interesting information can exist within a ten minute walk. I went on a colleague’s tour yesterday, and he had just three of the stops that I go to on my tour. All the rest of his tour was just as accurate, just as interesting, and probably far more skilled than mine. How excellent!

As you almost certainly have heard, little blog, Catalonia declared independence on Friday. The results were, to me, just as wild as this entire ride has been: the weekend immediately filled with marches for Spanish unity as the central government in Madrid disbanded the Catalan government and authorities around the world refused to recognize a Catalan state. Regardless of the other implications of those points, by Monday the wind had all but left the sails of the Catalan independentista movement. The president, Puigdemont, fled to Brussels and much of his government appears to have gone into hiding. Catalan officials who work for the Spanish government showed up for work on Monday. Catalan independentista flags all over the city disappeared, some to be replaced by Spanish flags. The only thing that hasn’t changed is the crowd of news reporters twiddling their thumbs in Plaza Jaume, between the government buildings. I don’t know what they’re waiting for, but....something.

At any rate, we’re safe here! 

There were some good pictures, though. When John and I were returning to our AirBnb on Friday night, we saw a crowd of hundreds of pro-Spanish unity demonstrators surrounded by police vans. We went around the demonstration and safely back, but on the way we saw a man with a Spanish flag tied around his neck. I love listening to them, so I gave a throaty, Viva Espanya! as we passed him. He punched his fist in the air and bellowed Viva!!! in return. 

I’m thankful to be in love with a man who would put his arm around me just then and tell me to stop it. You’re a good one, John.

Next week: I don’t know! We’ll see what’s thrown at me then!

Wow! John’s watching the magic fountain!

Hey, what’s that fuzzy thing by his right shoulder?.....

Anna! Stop yawning!

CAUGHT

No filter or anything. This is actually what the inside of La Sagrada Familia looks like. It’s beautiful. 

Yesterday I was climbing up the stairs to my apartment thinking, “You know, I think I’m finally getting truly settled. Barcelona and I are really starting to get along. Hey, this place is kinda even starting to feel like home!”

I reached the top of the stairs and opened the door, where my musings were interrupted by my soaked, panicked housemate waving a mop in my face and yelling, “WE DON’T HAVE ANY WATER!”

The gist went like this:

The water heater “F^$KING BROKE”.

Water was “UP TO HERE” (vague waist-level hand motion).

One thing though was for certain: my flatmate had successfully turned off the main valve and we didn’t have any water.

In a stunning turn of events, a nice plumber by the name of Mohammad came and fixed the broken pipe, made a recommendation to get a completely new water heater, brought it and installed it all within 36 hours.

Really, guys. My one job today was to stay at home and wait to let in the repairman, but I was so sure that he wasn’t going to come (because, guys, we’re in Spain) that I left to get coffee with a friend and he showed up while I was away.

Humiliated.

Anna. You had one job.

Speaking of jobs, my new employment is shaping up to be just great! I’ve only been at it for about a week, so I feel like I still don’t quite know what’s going on, but I seem to have lucked out in becoming the newest member of a big family. Already I really like the people I work with and what I get to do. It’s excellent!

On Tuesday I decided to get a bank account. I lucked out. Praise God, I managed to get the bank employee who was (as he told me), “passionate about helping people feel comfortable with each of their banking decisions”. That dear man took over an hour to help me select the correct account and set it up, dubious legality and all (*cough*), to my liking. As of now I am the proud owner of a Spanish bank account!

I emailed Javier the next day to tell him how wonderful he is, and he promptly returned the note:

“Muchísimas gracias Anna por tus palabras.”

 *(That means thanks for your words)*

English teaching is pretty swell, too. My lessons are price-leveled according to planning difficulty, which means that about two evenings a week I teach conversational English to women my age, two evenings a week I teach English to young boys, and one afternoon a week I work with two teenage girls.

My favorites are the conversation classes. I do topical planning to lend a professional air to my “class” and then I basically serve as a friend, confidant, encourager, and advisor for an hour. My small boy lessons are significantly more difficult to plan and run, but I decided about a week ago to take the pressure off myself to do a formal “lesson” because these kids will definitely learn as much or more from songs, games, and videos. That strategy helped me feel less stressed and more successful this week by far.

Frankly, however, I’m strongly considering adding a Teenage Girl Surcharge to my rates for future clients.

I’m learning a lot about myself. For instance, I found out today that when I live in an apartment with other people, cleaning is less of a chore. Instead of cleaning to, “be a good person” or something that I can never seem to get clear in my head, I get to clean because I want my flatmates to be able to live in a clean home and I want them to be surprised and happy when they get home and see I cleaned.  I sure hope I can keep that positive attitude in future!

Oh! And this Sunday night is going to be my first night interpreting the Hillsong Sunday evening service into English in real time! Wish me luck! Pray for me! Send me money! Or help! Send help!

That’s all from Barcelona!

(My first tour!)

My lovely new friend Celeste on the most famous street in Barcelona’s Jewish quarter, El Call!

Because of the house of the LORD our God, I will seek thy good. Psalm 122:9

When I awake, I am still with Thee. Psalm 139:18

One by one, things that make me comfortable fall away. My steady job; familiar food; air conditioning; the hot water in my apartment; my stove; my oven; my heater; seeing my friends; grocery stores that are open on Sundays.

This week: political rights.

As you guys probably are aware, this week swept the Catalan political system: the Catalan Indepentista party has been planning to vote in a referendum so that it can declare independence from Spain. But when the vote was scheduled to happen on Sunday, catastrophe.

To really understand the situation we have to know a little bit about the political history of Spain. After World War II, Spain was quietly left under a fascist dictatorship until 1975, when Franco died. Many middle-aged Spaniards can still remember what it is like to live in a place where people just disappear. To be left in an unmarked grave somewhere.

Catalonia suffered terribly under Franco’s regime, and even after Franco’s son began the transition to democracy immediately following Franco’s death, there’s still a lot of bad blood between Spaniards from Madrid and Barcelonans.

If you think racism is a problem in America, you need to see how Barcelonans treat Madrilenos and hear how Madrilenos talk about Barcelonans. That is racism. They hate each other.

Anyway, on Sunday I had already been receiving messages and instructions from friends in America and locals around the city. It was common knowledge that boats of military police from Madrid were waiting off the coast, and that if (when) they came into the city their point of entry would be about two blocks from my apartment building. So on Sunday I stayed home.

Little blog of mine, when the Catalans tried to have their unconstitutional, illegal vote, the Madrid police came in and beat the sh%t out of them. My opinion on the vote was suddenly irrelevant: I realized that the rights I take for granted, peaceful assembly, free speech, due process of law, a speedy and public trial, are not enshrined here like they are in America.

I studied economics at Hillsdale College, but even though I’ve walked around for the last five years or so holding the mental banners of, “taxation is theft” and “the law is force” and “restrain the coercive power of the state”, as of today I have a perspective on those ideas that’s real in a way I never before understood.

What I’ve always been told, that I can’t make my government my god and expect it to care for me, is totally true. What Bastiat said is right: government is force. It’s just coercion, and when it’s unbridled, it is an ugly and dangerous thing.

Thank God the Word says that Jesus is coming back! And then it will all be set right. I’m so thankful for that. In the meantime, I trust God to protect me. And I am safe, little blog. I praise God for it.

And I got a job yesterday!

The details of my job are still being worked out a little bit, but basically I’m starting as a tour guide for a local company next week. My new boss seems excellent and I am already spending pleasurable hours in the library planning my tour of the Barri Gotic.

Also, this guy comes in two and a half weeks: