My Pascua with the Padres...

I somehow doubt any of you are AVID readers of my blog and so have been checking every other day for ANY scrap of news of my life. However, if you have been - I am alive - and I apologise for the lack of posts. It just seems that life in Barcelona can be quite hectic! And what I mean by that is... the sun has come out, and I want to be tanned.

For those of you with a smaller Spanish vocabulary, Pascua is the word for Easter. You may have, instead, heard of Semana Santa, which refers to the whole week of Easter celebrations in Spain. Well, essentially the Spanish celebrate Easter wholeheartedly - even more than just stuffing their faces with chocolate (weird right?) - and I had my own, sort of, celebration. My dear Ma and Pa and big brother William came out to visit me.

Therefore this post is less informative about Easter in Spain, and more about my family...in Spain.

On the first night the fam arrived, we were lucky enough to stumble upon an Easter parade. Unfortunately I didn't get any photos as we were sheltering from the rain but it was quite something to behold! If you search images for Spanish Easter parades you could be forgiven for thinking that the nazarenos (people who are part of religious brotherhoods) bear a striking resemblance to a not so popular group of people, the KKK. They can be quite scary looking, especially if you don't know what they are. Huge floats with images of Jesus were carried by men completely out of sight, seemingly their only way of knowing where to go was a man shouting "DERECHA, DERECHA, NO ... IZQUIERDA". There were also men and women dressed in robes, barefoot and carrying large wooden crosses on their backs - no prizes for guessing their fancy dress - but it just stuck me how much the Spanish enjoy being flamboyant and dramatic. And hey, why not?!

As an already practised tourist guide, I had planned to take the fam all around the big sights of Barcelona and so it was a great opportunity to visit La Sagrada Familia - otherwise known/referred to as the unfinished cathedral, the melting cathedral, that cathedral that has something to do with Gaudi. If you only ever get to visit Barcelona once, you really must visit it - you'll never see anything like it again.

Just for you Beth. Love the squashed turtle.

Pasty Brits enjoy the lesser-known "sun".

 These next few were taken in a pretty park up on Montjuic near the Olympic Stadium. Whilst admiring the sights, we were all certain we could smell bacon sarnies and so were very intrigued to know if there is a flower that gives off this scent, and if so... WHERE can I buy one?!

 

But let's be honest, we all know that when parents visit you it means one thing: great food. We even refer to places as "parent restaurants" - you'll know the type, the prices tend to come in double figures, they have uniformed waiters and potentially even a pianist playing you Adele tunes (well one of ours did!) I therefore use this opportunity to give you a run down of places you really should try if you ever find yourself in this wonderful city.

They say breakfast is the most important meal of the day, and when you're eating at Milk (or its sister restaurant Marmalade), it definitely is. I've visited three times now and have not been disappointed. Really good sized portions, really scrummy food. I also love the fact they put cocktails on their brunch menu - what a great country - although I'm yet to try one.

For a nice spot of afternoon tea we had to return to my flat to enjoy a good PG tips brew, but for added decadence I bought macarons from La Colmena - a bakery just next to Jaume I metro stop. This bakery is what dreams are made of; gorgeous displays in the window, rows and rows of chocolates and cakes inside and really friendly staff. I would kill for their macarons - they are delish.

As it was both Ma and Pa's birthdays whilst they were out here, I'd chosen a fancy looking restaurant for the Sunday evening: El Gran Cafe.  It was fully booked the night we were there and so is obviously a popular choice. Although the service wasn't amazing, the food did make up for it. I had the onion soup, followed by the duck and rounded off nicely with some crema catalana (essentially creme brulee) - not a scrap was left on my plate. Its 1920s decor and in-house pianist create a really nice atmosphere too (I feel like I'm writing an advert).

On one of the sunnier days we headed down to gaze across the sea and were quickly drawn in to Maka Maka by the smell of their burgers. Its such a fun place to sit and eat, I like to pretend I'm in The OC when I eat there and that Seth will walk in any moment. Its a fab location for people watching and their chips with wasabi mayonnaise are incredibly moreish.

Lastly is Alcoba Azul. I have to say I cannot claim any of these places as my own finds (apart from the beauteous macarons) and kudos for finding this cute little tapas place goes to my wonderful pal Filipa. It is exactly the kind of place you want to find when you go on a year abroad. Not too touristy, friendly staff who will actually speak to you in Spanish, a slightly secretive location with an unassuming look and of course, really good food.  

In other recent news:
I saw my resident tramp reading a book this week.  I was impressed, although not as impressed as when I saw him with an iPad - 21st century tramp indeed.

I went for ice cream and a walk along the marina this evening and it was BALMY.

I have just spoken to my brother on skype and been told to say how lovely he is... even if he does rub it in my face that he has a GORGEOUS puppy.

I am getting very excited about going to see The XX soon.

And lastly, I promise to write more regularly - time just flies here! Refer to Dolly Parton for further evidence (although she only had to do 9 til 5 for her way to make a living).

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My First Visitor...

I was lucky enough to have the wonderful Beth staying with me last weekend. I was overly excited because, as the title suggests, she was the first to visit me whilst I've been away. Now, I had hoped to look ever so cool to any visitors, showing them all the short-cuts, taking them to a cute little place I know for tapas, occasionally fist-pumping locals and such like but when she visited I was really no less of a tourist than she was. 

You can tell my tourist status by how happy I look to be on a beach in March.

It turned out it was a big bonus being tourists together because it meant we got to discover everything together. We didn't have a fixed plan for the weekend but there were a few "cute little places" I'd heard of and was desperate to try. Unsurprisingly, most of these involved food.

First up was Milk. I'd been told by multiple sources that this was the place to go for brunch. And boy were they right. A really gorgeous little place, run by an Irish couple, which serves spectacular looking pancakes, egg variations and even burgers. It has cracking background music as well; eating my "Monte Cristo" whilst listening to Marvin Gaye's Sexual Healing was really quite something. 

Just look at that unbridled enthusiasm for eggs.

Next stop was the beach. Beth had the lord shining down on her and so the sun shone down on us. It was lovely.

Sculpture by Juan Munoz.
I'm pretty sure this is what I'll look like when I come home in July.
Too many damn good pastries.

We then hopped on the metro and hopped off at Gaudi's famous Parc Guell. By this time, the weather was simply stunning and we were so lucky to get to see the park and its views in all their glory.

You can make out the Sagrada Familia just off centre, to the left.

Apparently this performer is always here.
Head to toe in leopard print, playing his guitar.
He was summin' else.

As you do in Barcelona, we managed to bump into essentially every person we knew in the city.

Including these weirdos...

They actually look pretty cool. Could be the cover of their new album. I'd call them...Gizbet.

After enjoying sun and sangria for much longer than we'd planned, we headed back into the centre of town to wander around La Boquería - a food market just off La Rambla. It is full to the brim with gorgeous looking food - exactly like you see in photos everyone seems to take at food markets.

As I have also done...

Frutos secos.

Guindillas.

ACTUAL fish and chips.

Chocolate!

The following day we decided to take advantage of the good weather and headed up to Montjuic, which is a hill at the Southern end of the city. A hill alone sounds rather dull but it actually has a lot going on once you get up there (there were A LOT of steps). We took a leisurely stroll around some pretty gardens...

...stopped off at the 1992 Olympic stadium...

...where we greeted some heroes...

....and some ex-heroes.

...and then I won a gold medal, no biggie.

To satisfy our historical needs we visited the Fort at the very top of the hill. You can walk up to it, but we rode in style, in a cable car, and managed to blast out a fabulous rendition of "I Dreamed a Dream" on the way up. Anne Hathaway would've just handed the Oscar over. 

Here we are learning about history.

And then the weekend was over! Time really does fly when you're having fun. Luckily, Beth was staying one more night and so work went really fast on Monday as I was excited to get home and see my wifey waiting for me. Don't worry, she wasn't locked up 'til I returned - during the day Beth went to see the iconic Sagrada Familia and was a little snap happy. She took some really gorgeous photos which I'll pop onto FB - there are just too many to choose from for here.

Instead, here's some precious little bunnys and ducklings.

I couldn't have asked for a better first visitor. We ate, sang and were ever so merry. Thanks Bet, until we meet again in gay Paris!

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My NIE Nightmare...

This may be a dull post. In fact, I know it will be, because it tells the tale of a DULL morning. However, I feel it necessary to rant about the bad along with the good. Also, if anyone is planning on coming to work in Spain - read on and take notes.

In order to do everyday citizen-esque things in Spain like open a bank account, or simply have a paid job you need a NIE. It stands for Número de Identificación de Extranjero - essentially, an identity number - and it serves a little bit like a National Insurance number would in the UK.

And so, I was fully aware I was going to have to get one of these for Barcelona in order to receive my salary. What I didn't know, was how much of a pain in the arse it would be to get it. 

Naturally, the first thing I did was research it on the internet; the warning bells should have gone off when I couldn't find an official website for it, but ho hum, I ploughed on through. Every website seemed to have a slightly different version of instructions but the process seemed to be: take all of the documents you've ever owned in your life to a small office in the middle of who knows where and then queue up to attempt to get this number. There were also quite a few websites which paid great attention to the queueing part - I read that the office opened at 9:00 am but by this time there could be a line down the street of people waiting to also get their NIE. Somewhere else mentioned that they gave out tickets (like a delicatessen) but only to the first 100 people in the queue, everyone else was sent packing.

Armed with my passport (+ photocopy), a copy of my birth certificate, my EHIC, the contract for my internship, my bank details and my Spanish address, I set off to try and get one....at 5:15 am.

It was pitch black, cold and I had only been in the city for three days and did not know my way around - it's safe to say I was not happy. My mood only worsened when I arrived at the office (at 6:00 am) to discover...well, noone. There was no queue of desperate immigrants and exhausted looking year-abroaders as I had expected. I even checked with a taxi driver in case I'd come to the wrong place but I was, unfortunately, right. I settled down onto the freezing pavement and read my book, A Clockwork Orange - which is weird enough to read without being on an empty street at Barcelona at the crack of dawn.

Eventually, at about 8:30 - having met three Pakistani men, a guy from the Dominican Republic, a lovely Belgian girl who bought me coffee and the horrendously racist cleaner from the office - we were let in. I was, of course, first in the queue and so sat down with my Waitrose-delicatessen-like ticket with my organised folder all ready to go. It really didn't help my mood watching all of the staff casually talking together whilst I sat with my teeth chattering as the cold just wouldn't leave my body. But no, they will not begin working until they really have to. 

My number was called, I sat down and explained what I was there for and was given a form to fill in. So far, very easy. The man entered my details and then proceeded to look through the documents I'd brought before he slowly started shaking his head and my heart turned to stone. He told me that I needed something to prove I was Erasmus and doing a placement here, I pointed out my contract but he refused it saying that I needed something in Spanish with the stamp from my company.

And so this concludes my first trip there. I won't explain each individual journey as it involves many different complicated points (contact me if you ever need to get a NIE), but I will just say that this process spanned two days, one trip to a photocopy shop, one trip to a bank, two trips to my office (including the first time I met my boss - not exactly a great first encounter) and FOUR trips back to the NIE office. Four miserable, hideous, painful, bile-rising-in-the-throat-and-tears-in-the-eyes journeys. 

I now have a NIE. And with it, a lot of resentment for Spanish bureaucracy.

And now for something completely different...how weird is this fish?

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My Big Move...

Well, well, well where do I start? It has been a good long while since I've posted and I do apologise. Although I have probably spoken to almost everyone who reads this in the meantime so at least you'll be aware I'm still with the living.

Year Abroad part two has begun: I am in Barcelona!

I've been here for two weeks now, have just completed my first full week of work and am settled into my new flat. But HEY, hold up there Katie, I must start from the beginning, which just happens to be the end of Córdoba.

I'll admit it, going back to Spain after three glorious weeks at home was really difficult. They don't warn you about that part so much. I think it was mainly because I was only going back to exams (which nobody likes) and I therefore had a lot of free "revision" time. However, it was great seeing all the girls again and we had a few pretty darn good nights.

Yes, of course they mostly involved food. But just look how yummy. 

I was only back for a couple of weeks but it flew by. Having had my exam results back (which I'm happy with) it is strange to think I don't really have a connection there anymore. While it had its fair share of downs, I had some cracking ups in Córdoba too and am now very fond of it. 

  

Getting the oranges off the trees in Patio de las Naranjas.

The smell of orange was AMAZING.

I was lucky enough to make a really good group of friends and look forward to a reunion whenever and wherever it shall be.

 

How could I NOT miss this girl? 

My time in Córdoba was made brief as I had a big surprise in store. The one-of-a-kind Em Dave turned 21 at the beginning of February and so I decided I just couldn't miss that; you may know I'm a big fan of surprises even if I'm not on the receiving end. I will never forget the dazed expression on her face when I turned up on her doorstep, it was a real gem.

Doesn't she make a purdy 21 year old?

As usual Exeter treated me bloody well and I had tons of fun - I might make this surprising malarkey a regular thing.

And then it was time to go again! Having spent a really lovely lazy week at home I packed up my bags and off I went. After a luggage kerfuffle at the airport I arrived with 20 kg less than I'd started with and am actually quite proud of how ruthless I was. Not easy for a girl! It was strange stepping out from the metro and being in a big, cosmopolitan and BUSY city after little Córdoba. But also pretty damn cool. There really is something to look at everywhere, and my list of places to visit is just too long to write down.

I stayed in a hotel for the first week so that I could flat hunt easily. I saw about 10 flats altogether and my oh my do they vary. Some were absolutely tiny with building works literally just outside the window, whilst others were as modern as can be, equipped with tumble dryer, double bed and the whole shebang. I settled on a typical Barcelona-esque flat in the Gothic Quarter. I have a double bed, good storage space and a balcony that I'm really looking forward to using when it gets a bit warmer here. While it can be ever so noisy, I'm really happy to be living in, what feels like, proper authentic Barcelona. 

La catedral.

The kids at the top were genuinely about 8 years old. Terrifying.

  

Barcelona's little piece of Paris: the Arc de Triomf.

The charming Izzy Miller.

I really don't know what I'm going to do about all the bakeries and coffee shops here. There are too many pastries to eat in five months. But, I have a duty to do and it shall be done. I started with an Izzy Miller recommendation. 

Florentines and macarons.

Just delightful.

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