ben and andrew- thanks for comming. you brought fun, laughter and some great moments of conversation or of just being together. you are always welcome.

Gracias

Día de Acción de Gracias. That means Thanksgiving in Spanish. This year as I awaited the arrival of my favorite day, I found myself in a foreign country and quite unaware of how to reproduce Nashville memories of the past 24 years. How do you buy a turkey anyways? And how many pounds of turkey can one person possible eat? And is that calculated differently if that person is a Spaniard? What exactly in that sugary sauce on top of the yams made out of? And can you buy the crispy things that go on top of the green bean casserole? If so, are they available in Spain? It all began a couple of Mondays ago when I realized that the 24th was just around the corner and many of my Spanish friends were curious about this American holiday of ours. We decided to celebrate together in the apartment of some American friends of mine here and I was left to try to figure out where in the world the turkey was going to come from. After visiting several stores and many odd looks later, I finally found a supermarket nearby that would order me a pavo entero (whole turkey). The owner of the store just looked at me and asked “Americana?” I guess I am that obvious. The turkey came in on Friday along with mom’s recipes through email. After plucking feathers (thanks Lindsey and Amanda) and several pumpkin desserts later, Sunday came. The morning of the dinner, I had the joy of receiving two friends from the States, Andrew and Ben, that were traveling in Europe. To have a sense of old familiarity along with my new familiarity was interesting and wonderful all at once. My Spanish friends came that afternoon and we all got to share several hours of beautiful moments. What made it so great? Maybe it was the look on their faces when we brought out the turkey which many of them had never tried but seen in movies. Maybe it was the mixture of cultures and languages all in the space of a red living room. Or the sense of family and friendship in a country that is not my own, but I love. Whatever it was, the experience will not soon be forgotten.

vic

meet arnau. he is the nephew of susanna, one of my good friends here in barcelona. she recently invited amanda wiggins and i to join her family for a sunday afternoon outside the city. we travelled a couple of hours and stopped near vic to have a meal in the mountains and see the change of color in the trees. our meal ended up being the afternoon. we spent four hours eating. no kidding! as soon as i thought there is no way i could stuff more in, the waitress would come by and susanna would help me decide what to order next. it was an awesome experience to be able to share that afternoon with them. and play with arnau.

mr. clean

i´m not sure when it happened. honestly. it is just that one day my existing here became living. Somewhere in the craziness, joy, adjustment and growth that has been the past several months of eva, it all just sort of transitioned. i began to notice that things that used to be different or uncomfortable for me suddenly became familiar and even welcome. i found myself craving jamon serrano for dinner and understanding the mumbled spanish of the old lady sitting behind me on the city bus. small things but significant. i also began noticing that little things that i assumed were strange and just too spanish for this struggling american girl were actually not that odd...for instance my ¨don limpio¨floor cleaner is none other than ¨mr clean¨ himself! the man on the corner under my bedroom window that won´t stop whistling is actually whistling dixie. i´m finding myself becoming more spanish or less american every week....or maybe just some odd mixture that makes me less of either. regardless, i´m comfortable with my life here. and that is enough for right now.

hotel

i´m a little behind the times i think. i just saw hotel rwanda this past sunday with some friends here in bcn. i believe it was released in the states last december and i´ve continuously heard reactions and opinions about this movie ever since. i think it is as my friend caleb put it, ¨i´ve wanted to have seen the movie, but i didn´t want to watch it¨. well now i have. it is a true story of the life of paul rusesabagina, a hutu manager of the hotel des mille collines. when the hutus begin a reign of terror and genocide against the tutsis, rusesabagina fights to save the life of his family and neighbors (many of them tutsis) by keeping open the hotel and offering it as refuge. in the end, through his financial resources, international connections, quick action and bravery he saves the lives of 1200 people. i have to say that in the light of so much hatred and pain occuring all around us (take the bombing in jordan as example) i find stories like this one hopeful. rusesabagina´s life offers us an example of love, grace and hope over evil and igorance. the are the stories that i think are imporant to tell and remember.

that kid

i've noticed over the past week how often i or one of my friends here has used the phrase, "i'm that kid that..." or "you're that kid that" or even more impersonal to say, "she/he was that kid that"... most of the time it is funny stuff (or at least things that make us look ridiculous)...here are a few examples just for your viewing pleasure... i'm that kid that always reads the last page of the book as soon as i start a book. i'm that kid that has to trip at least three times a day to feel normal. i'm that kid that sits on my terrace to use my neighbor's internet (oophs.) i'm that kid that daily says something insane in spanish and gets thoroughly embaressed. i'm that kid that drinks diet coke instead of coffee in the morning. i'm that kid that has a bizarre cactus collection. do you ever find yourself saying, "i'm that kid that -----"? i'd enjoy hearing yours.

family tree

one night across the table (over a game of farkle...oh yeah) amanda asked me where my family originally came from and then proceeded to map out her own family history. i have to say that i was a little dumbfounded and lost. it occurred to me at that moment that i had not the slightest idea from where my family has come...my own heritage is somewhat lost to me. again last night, over dinner with susanna and her family, i was asked from what countries my ancestors originated. i thought, is the usa an option? have i really never thought to ask? normally i would just say...they are from rural north carolina, but that is just skiming the surface i am realizing. did some of them live in germany, england or where? what did they do? did they live financially well or did they escape to the states barely making it? why did they come? what were they like? what were the things that made them feel alive? i intend to look for answers to these questions....why? i'm not sure except to say, i'm curious. i want to know where i came from.

freedom

these pictures were taken this evenning when i was walking home with amanda. the first is of two tree women that are often outside the gothic cathedral. they get quite into it with their arms...ahemm..i mean branches swaying in the wind. i tipped them this evenning. the second is of a man breaking it down on one of the stone benches next to the plaza catalunya. he had his headphones oin, a water bottle nearby and a good size crowd watching him. was he in his right mind? i'm not sure, but i couldn't help but smile and watch him for awhile. i think he is doing what we all would want to do if we could. i loved seeing his sense of freedom.