vicky christina barcelona-public service announcement?

Last weekend, I saw Vicky Christina Barcelona, which I know came out like eons ago, but I move slowly. I'm in Spain. Aside from the fantastic scenery of Barcelona, which, as seen in earlier blogs, is the prettier of the two main Spanish cities, the film shows the two main characters and their complex relationships with conformity, commitment, and men. For me, it's about their different perspectives, and the different ways to see love and to see the world. However, if you're an American girl in Spain, there's a more immediate lesson to be learned from Woody: Don't sleep with Spanish men. You will end up alone, confused, and with a possible gunshot wound. In my opinion, this was part of the message. Nothing good can come of sexual relations between the American and Spanish populations. Whether you are romantic or apathetic, it's not going to work. The rules are different, and I can't handle that kind of passionate confusion. The film shows how passionate the Spanish are in comparison to the two young pretty Americans, seduced by the beauty around them, helped by the wine. Even Scarlett Johansson, the more romantic and whimsical of the two, lacks a certain depth of feeling, perhaps a national characteristic. Her friend, succumbing to the romanticism of the moment, quickly comes to her senses after Penelope Cruz brandishes a pistol, yelling "You're all crazy!" Yes. You think they're crazy, they think you're crazy. It can't work, because the crazies are not compatible. We're dealing with non-compatible, multi-lingual crazy here, and quite honestly, the complexity only deepens. Did I mention I saw this movie on a date? With a Spanish guy? Yeah, that's not happening. Because he's CRAZY. Or I am. I don't know. Depends on the perspective, I guess.

learning french in spanish

In a decision that superficially makes not-so-much sense, I am taking French classes. I realize that I am in Spain, where they speak Spanish (imagine that!), teaching English. Let's consider it a last-gasp effort to continue to educate myself, and a desire to see how much language bombardment my poor brain can take. Currently, I am enrolled in the Institut Français (ballin') in the basic level. Being the only nonnative-Spanish speaker in my class can sometimes have its drawbacks. Usually, since the level is pretty basic, things go smoothly with only the occasional hitch. For example, I was unable to explain how I knew that "charme" in French meant "charm" to a fellow classmate, given that my vocab for this specific word was lacking in Spanish. Things hit the skids, however, when we started fashion. Racing through words and phrases, my French professor would shout out what seemed to me like random sounds that I couldn't comprehend in whatever language they were coming out in. It involved a lot of nudging whoever was sitting next to me, and saying "QUÉ??," which they then followed with a word in English, or a complicated series of gestures or sometimes even a drawing. Really, I'm lucky people continue to sit next to me. The advantages of this would be now in French, I can only think in Spanish. I made the commitment with the purchase of a Spanish-French dictionary, so now you know I'm serious. Unfortunately, when trying to speak French, it comes out in Spanish, which is not the most helpful of situations. I also have this great Spanish accent in French now. Well, a Spanish-American attempting to speak French. In other words, I'm doing great.

the erasmus experience

Well, my apartment has changed slightly in the past couple weeks. No more María, whose job contract ended and went to live with her parents in Galicia...I don't feel too bad for her, because she considered it a indeterminate vacation, which, at the moment, has a pleasant ring to it. So, Pierre moved in. As some of you smart readers may be able to figure out, Pierre is French, not Spanish. Pierre is also a guy. If your keeping score, that's two European men, and me, in one apartment. A little too much testosterone. And, if you were wondering about the title, Erasmus is the European study abroad program. European students get to travel around countries, staying for a year at a time, and then flying back home on a short, cheap flight. What a novel idea. If only countries came in "Fun Size" in America (Andorra is comparable to an M&M). So, although finished with college and still American (I'm still waiting to wake up European...I figure I'll know when it happens. I imagine it to be waking up with a cigarette and a permanent scowl), I guess I'm getting the traditional Erasmus study abroad experience now. For instance, Pierre tried to help me with my French pronunciation, which I now believe to be a lost cause. We spent about five minutes making this noise: "oooooo" or "ewwwwww." Well, I spent most of this time laughing, which was counterproductive, and clearly contributing to my insultingly-bad French accent. But most of the time, we speak in Spanish, which must be strange for anyone to hear. People speaking in a language in which neither is a native speaker always amuses me...because it sounds funny. There's not a more profound reason, really. It's just like that. To do my part to contribute to the cultural exchange, I made brownies. Give the people what they want!