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Much to our surprise, Halloween is also celebrated here in Barcelona. YAY! So, as with every year since she was born, Allita will have a homemade costume to wear to school and, eventually, trick-or-treating. We started early with our efforts for this year’s costume creation. Allita designed a dragon costume for herself – researching the best ideas, recommendations and pinterest posts for creating it. We assembled the majority of the necessary raw materials and supplies by purchasing most items from the bazar (Dollar Tree) or the hardware store. One or two things were donated by local vendors who were friendly enough to share when the craft was fully explained (for example, the dry cleaner who provided two wire coat hangers with the stipulation that she be allowed to see the end result). Such is the generosity of the people of Sarria.

We began with the mask, which I feared was going to be the most time-consuming and difficult of the accessories to be manufactured. Since we only had two weekends to get this work done, I thought we should start with the hard part first. The biggest hurdle with masks is that Allita wears glasses. She must wear them in order to be able to see how to walk properly so going without is not an option.

This year, we decided to use safety goggles that fit over her prescription glasses and a half-mask form. We hot glued the form to the goggles with them on her face so that the eye holes would be perfectly positioned. I will freely admit right now that she did burn her hand on the hot glue but that was only because she couldn’t be still long enough for it to cool completely. Then, for the horns, we disassembled two paper towel roll cores and twisted them into a tight point with more hot glue to hold them together. Eventually, we affixed the horns to the mask with glue, pins and duct tape.

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Next, we used hot glue and craft foam paper to cover the mask and create scales. I will also admit here that we both got a number of first degree burns during this assembly process and we used almost all of our glue! To finish the horns, we used black duct tape in small pieces to layer around and add dimension. I’m always impressed with Allita’s ideas and suggestions when we are doing these type of arts and crafts.

Finally, we used metallic paint (silver and green) to add some dimension to the craft foam and make the mask look a little more “life-like”. We used a foam brush as well as some standard art paint brushes for the fine work. This whole process took one entire day to complete – not because I couldn’t do it faster but because we worked together and at Allita’s pace.

The next step was the tail. We had some ideas from online research and other costumes we’d seen in stores. Allita knew she wanted scales and she knew that it needed to somehow attach to her body. Ultimately, we used craft foam – one light green piece for the underside and one black piece for the topside – to make the basic tail shape. Then we covered the edges with black duct tape to hold the two pieces together. We also used black duct tape to fashion scales. That was tricky and frequently part frustrating / part hilarious as we dealt with the super-sticky tape. Each finished scale was applied with hot glue, making it very easy to place them wherever they fit the best and not worry about any particular order. Mom and I had debated the use of elastic and rope to make a “belt” that would be suitable. So, I decided to use duct tape to create two loops at the top of the tail to connect to the “belt” in the future.

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The last step for the tail was the paint. Allita used a sponge brush to apply a coat of green metallic paint down the scales. Then she used a small permanent marker to add a tiny bit of silver to the bottom edge of each scale providing a bit of detail and contrast. I love that she loves to paint and I thank her art instructor from Tucson, Arizona, Kristina Valencia, for all her artistic skills and my mother for her basic artistic talent.

The last remaining accessory was the wings. We had great discourse about the design and construction of wings. Dialog continued over meals, on the walk to and from school nearly every day, while grocery shopping, while attending the Festa Major de Sarria and, most frequently, in the evenings just prior to bedtime. At one point, I groused good-naturedly, “Some dragons don’t even have wings!”. In the end, we decided on a set of permanently open wings mounted on her back using a modified coat hanger some green ribbon that attaches like a backpack. Having a creative child is sometimes a curse as well as a blessing.

Sadly, we didn’t take any photos of the wings in-progress so all I can show you is the finished set. But to make the wings, we took a coat hanger and cut the bottom wire in half so that each side had one small “v”. Then we covered the “v” with a square of black craft foam and colored duct tape. We cut the bottom of the craft foam in the shape of wings and painted them green as needed to add dimension and color to the wings. As a final touch, Allita used a small piece of screen that she placed over the black side of the wings and then she dabbed on silver paint. I’m not sure if you can see it, but the detail is astounding – the mesh made the silver paint look like scales! Very cool idea.

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In addition to all of these amazing home-made accessories, Allita also made sock feet from toilet paper rolls and a pair of black socks. She used hot glue to stick the sliced rolls onto the ends of the socks. Then, she painted the pieces of cardboard with a black sharpie marker and green paint using a foam brush. She got the idea of the feet from the pair of store-bought gloves she had originally purchased when the costume idea was brand new.

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The final costume included green shiny “hot pants” I found at a local bazaar in the adult costume section and some of Allita’s own black clothing. We prepared to head to Turo Park for the evening’s trick-or-treating and I realized she was going to have to ride the city bus dressed as a green and black dragon! Oh my. Look out Barcelona – here we come!

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In honor of Mom’s pending semisesquicentennial birthday, we decided to spend this past weekend in Madrid, the capital of Spain and third largest city in the European Union. We started our trip at the Barcelona Sants train station aboard the Alta Velocidad Española or AVE bound for Zaragoza then Madrid. As the name describes, the AVE is the Spanish high-speed train. The roughly 650 km (403 miles) trip only required a little less than 3 hours one-way (even with one stop!). We were indeed traveling at some very high speeds.

We arrived at the Madrid Atocha station and leisurely made our way to the older section of the station, opened since 1851 but remodeled in 1992 into a 4,000 sq m (43,000 sq ft) tropical garden. Given Mom’s love of all things botanical, this seemed like an appropriate first stop for our weekend sojourn. We toured the garden and Allita even found some bananas growing quietly among the other 260 different plant species from Asia, America and Australia.

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Our next stop was Parque del Buen Retiro (Buen Retiro Park), which was only a short walk north from the train station. Our plan for this lovely Saturday morning was to stroll through the park, visit the Palacio de Cristal (Crystal Palace), enjoy the lovely fountains and statues placed here and there among the gardens, and eventually enjoy a picnic by the pond, Estanque del Retiro. I’m delighted to announce that we were entirely successful and the tuna bocadillo that Allita and I shared was delicious.

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After lunch, we wandered down Paseo del Prado, past Puerta de Alcalá (photo album), Fuente de Cibeles (photo album), Fuente de Neptuno (photo album), El Casón del Buen Retiro (photo album), San Jerónimo el Real (photo album) and finally arrived at the Museo Nacional del Prado (Prado Museum). Mom chose to visit the Prado because it is the main national art museum in Spain. We saw works by Goya, El Greco, Rubens and Velázquez among many, many others. In total, we spent over 2 hours visiting the museum and, although we had barely scraped the surface of the works on display, we were exhausted. Really, we can only spend some much time repeatedly studying nudity and Christianity in one day. It was hotel time.

After a short nap in our lovely hotel, Hotel Mayor, located just off the Plaza Mayor and very near the Palacio Real de Madrid (Royal Palace), Allita and I decided to go for an evening stroll or paseo. Below are some of the sights we saw as we wandered in the dusk.

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Sunday morning, we enjoyed a slow start and made use of the 24/7 coffee and fruit bar along with our complimentary continental breakfast at the Hotel Mayor. Did I mention how great this place is?! Eventually, we wandered to the Metro Line 2 Sol stop at Puerto del Sol (photo album) and rode the train back to Banco de España, which is a short walk down Paseo del Prado to the Museo Nacional Thyssen-Bornemisza (Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum). This was the second museum on Mom’s list of “places to visit” in Madrid.

The Thyssen is currently showing a temporary exhibit titled “Los Impresionistas y la Fotografía” (Impressionists and Photography). In the nearly 5 hours that we visited this museum, we toured all three floors of the permanent collection, the Impressionists temporary exhibit and enjoyed a lovely lunch in the museum cafe. It was a fantastic day. We saw Picasso, Rembrandt, Rubens, Monet, Manet, Cézanne, Caravaggio, Corot, Renoir, Degas, van Gogh, Kirchner, Gris, and Dali to name a few. A very small sample of the many amazing works that we saw is in the Madrid photo album.

We returned to Barcelona in a little over 2 hours on a direct AVE from Madrid, even though there were 14 cars including cafeteria. Some of the countryside visible from my window is in the Madrid photo album. Mom and Allita both declared the weekend a resounding success. ¡Adios Madrid!

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Early on 11 October 2019, we left Barcelona for a weekend trip to Switzerland to visit old friends and see new places. The trip started with an adventure at the airport unlike any I’ve had since I last traveled to Israel in the 1980s. We arrived at our gate approximately 45 minutes before departure to discover the crew was already boarding! We quickly queued up and made our way downstairs to a bus, jammed with other travelers who, like us, had tried to keep their luggage to only the hand baggage allowed in cabin versus checking a suitcase for a costly sum. So, we were all smushed in a hot bus with backpacks, rolling bags, purses, pouches, duffles and various other personal items, idling curbside until the last passenger finally squeezed on board. Then, we were delivered to our plane, which was waiting for us in-between the two airport terminals in an unidentified location but among a row of other similar planes with two portable staircases available for boarding (front or rear). I felt very much like I was being secreted away, although I got the impression from my fellow travelers that this was not such an unusual occurrence. Eventually, we boarded and departed for Zurich. At some point afterwards, I believe Allita finally woke up. It was an early departure after all.

We traveled from the Zurich airport to Rorschacherberg by car. It’s a lovely drive, but I enjoyed the return trip we made by train on Sunday much more. We were able to see, from our higher seats, a great deal more of the countryside and, of course, worry less about the traffic proceedings and general navigation. That’s one of the great advantages of public transportation – you just ride. As I’ve mentioned in a previous post, it’s very liberating to be a passenger. Until we moved to Spain, I had forgotten what it was like as a child to put all my trust into the driver and simply stare out the window at the world passing by.

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Rorschacherberg is a little farming community in the canton of St. Gallen on the edge of Lake Constance (Bodensee) in Switzerland. Family friends from our time in Germany in the 1980s live in a modest house that overlooks the village and the lake. It is with this lovely family that we have spent our entire weekend. We had so much fun!

On Saturday, we traveled by boat across the lake to the small island town of Lindau. It was a lovely, cool morning, perfect for a nautical journey, and it evolved into a fantastic, warm fall day with sunshine and a gentle breeze. We spent the entire day walking around the little island community, exploring the markets and various shops and stalls, eating and drinking all the yummy German (Bavarian!!) delicacies, laughing at the street entertainers, enjoying an unexpected food truck fest, and even helping some locals remove a boat from the harbor! What an adventure!!

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We were sad to leave on Sunday, but we had enjoyed exactly what we set out to accomplish: a fantastic and fun weekend visiting old friends and new places. It was perfect! Just what we needed!

P.S. The return flight from Switzerland was much less dramatic and cloak-and-dagger. We boarded our plane using a jet bridge directly from the airport gate. Maybe the bus is just a Barcelona thing?

Franco had no great love for Catalonians. I imagine they were difficult to subdue since Catalonians are independent and proud people with a rich, strong cultural heritage. In an effort to force them to unite with the rest of Spain, he banned spoken and written Catalan (the language of Catalonia) and many Catalonian traditions, such as the Sardana dance. (Although, some villages still held festivals and hosted dances in peaceful protest under Franco’s rule.) Their culture is a key part of the identify of the people here in Catalonia. Catalonians today teach their language to their children at home and in school (by law) and they share their beloved cultural traditions within their communities frequently and routinely – keeping their heritage as strong and rich as ever!

Those who have followed this blog know that Allita and I have already enjoyed several of these Catalonian traditions while staying in Casteldefels and now, in Sarria: festa major, cobla music, correfoc, Castellers, cercavila, gegants and capgrossos. In a few short weeks, we even plan to celebrate Castanyada (All Saints Day or Catalan Halloween) with our neighbors (more on that in an upcoming post)! Tonight, however, when we rejoined our Catalan community in celebrating their main annual festival, we were personally invited to participate in the Sardana!

One of the most significant cultural traditions in Catalonia is the Sardana dance. This dance is performed by members of the community who come together, hold hands and form a circle facing center. The cobla begins the music and a leader, an experienced dancer, calls out the steps. There are two basic patterns of dance steps: curts (short) and llargs (long). Dancers take small steps and the circle rotates slowly as the dance ensues.

Many of you already know a circle is a symbol of unity. For this reason, a dance that includes everyone and anyone – without any required costume – men, women, and children of all ages and backgrounds – connected together hand-in-hand, facing each other and moving in unison to music created by their own coblas, has powerful meaning for these people. They are joined in this circle; standing proud, raising their arms, smiling and laughing, perhaps even singing to the music, and moving together as one big connected group. Nothing could be a stronger statement of cultural pride and allegiance than the Sardana.

Tonight, Mom and Allita walked home from school and I met them, as we had planned, in the Plaça de Pere Figuera i Serra in the heart of Sarria. According to the schedule for the Festa Major 2019, this was the location for the Ballada de Sardanes [Sardana Dance]. I was very excited because this was a rare opportunity for us to be able to observe this historical dance up close – easily and without a huge crowd to block our view. I hoped to be able to watch the dancers long enough to figure out the steps. Little did I know that the group was also watching both Allita and I as we practiced and pranced nearby.

In no time at all, a friendly, middle-aged lady came over and grabbed my hand. She asked me (in Spanish) if I spoke Spanish or French, because her English was “no good”, so I told her I spoke French because my Spanish is “no good”. She pulled me toward the group of dancers and demonstrated the steps, counting for each one: un, deux, trois [one, two, three]. I motioned for Allita to join me and another dancer came over to teach Allita, also in French! The only problem with that was – Allita’s French is “no good”. HA! We practiced together – counting in French and sometimes in Spanish – while the remaining dancers observed, gave occasional pointers and prepared for the next round of Sardana.

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Then, the music started and the leader called “tirada de curts [short steps]” and we began. I held my hands down, matching the other dancers, and took small, precise steps counting under my breath and trying to advance slowly in a counter-clockwise procession. Then, the leader called “tirada de llargs [long steps]” and we raised our arms and switched to the second pattern of the dance that I had only just learned. Allita and I fumbled a little, now and then, but we recovered quickly and fell into step with the others at each transition. In the end, the dancers smiled and clapped and thanked us for joining them and we thanked them profusely and enthusiastically for including us. What a fantastic moment! I was so energized, I wanted to dance all night long. Unfortunately, just then, it started to rain and we all decided to head back home for an early dinner in our warm, dry abode instead.

We will miss the Correfoc on Friday because we are headed to Zurich for a weekend with friends on the Bodensee (more on that in a future post!). In fact, this was our last evening at the Festa Major de Sarria 2019. All-in-all, it was time well spent; meeting our neighbors, joining their celebration of all things Sarria and Catalonian, and making memories that will last a lifetime (or two, perhaps).

*the photos are courtesy of my mother who did not join us but was an active audience member.

On October 12, 1492, Cristòfor Colom (Italian explorer and discoverer of the New World, a.k.a. Christopher Columbus) landed three Spanish sailing vessels, the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria, in the Bahamas, which he believed at that time to be Asia.  Most of us are very familiar with this story.  What I find interesting is that the Bahamas celebrate October 12 as “Discovery Day” and Spain celebrates it as their National Holiday, Día de la Hispanidad [Hispanic Day], or National Day, Fiesta Nacional de España [National Day of Spain].  Even in the U.S.A., we recognize Columbus Day.  Actually, we celebrate old Chris more now that he’s dead than we ever did when he was alive.  How ironic.

In Catalonia, where many of the residents continue to push for independence from Spain, this holiday isn’t always fully embraced.  Sometimes, Catalonians protest in the streets, refuse to close their businesses on this day, and hang banners rallying for the freedom of Catalonia from their balconies (Llibertat presos politics! [Freedom for political prisoners!]).  In recent years, Catalonia has celebrated October 1 rather than October 12 as their National Day.  Rather than stay in Barcelona and get stuck in the middle of these ongoing politics over the holiday weekend, we’ve decided to go to Zurich instead.  Allita has Friday off school, in accordance with the Ministry of Education, so we have a 3-day weekend!  Yay! More details to come on that trip in a future post.

Now, however, the week prior to this controversial holiday, the little community of Sarria (our very own neighborhood) is celebrating their special festival, the Festa Major de Sarria 2019.  Once again we find ourselves surrounded by colorful community activity, carnivals, singing, food, crafts, games and general festivities.  How delightful!  As I have recently had the opportunity to spend several hours in the veterinary clinic speaking with the veterinarian and his staff, I have gotten quite a lot of info, the local “scoop” as it were, on this lovely little week-long celebration.  

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The village of Sarria, now a community within Barcelona, takes this same week every year to have a community celebration where businesses customize their hours and offerings, some even set up a long row of tables outside in the street for their menu del dia, to encourage networking and relationship building among the area residents.  There are decorations strewn from balconies that zig-zag across the streets and brightly colored fall plants in large pots set out in the city squares.  In the main square at the top of Major de Sarria [Main Street] and Bonanova Street, a small traveling carnival with games, rides and various foods is set up and doing a lively business.  Families and various other groups of all ages wander up and down the streets, talking and laughing, playing games (such as a water race with scuba flippers!), shopping, socializing and generally having fun all day long and well into the night.  

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On Friday, I fell asleep just prior to midnight while listening to the sounds of an energetic band playing a very popular and familiar song that many of the locals apparently felt the need to accompany.  Enthusistically.  It was fantastic.  So much so that Allita and I were inspired to spend the entire next day exploring the festival and celebrating with our neighbors.  We played games and cheered on our teams.  She colored pages of important historical figures of Sarria and even the Sarria dragon! At the carnival, she rode rides and played more games.  We ate traditional foods, which as expected, were amazing!  The music and festivities were thrilling.  We attended the Cercavila and saw the Gegants, the batons, and a group of timpanists (Tabalers) who really got the crowd moving!  Everyone smiled and laughed and welcomed us in every single event.  We truly felt part of the neighborhood.  We laughed and played until we were barely able to walk the single mile back to our cosy apartment.  

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Toby is our grey-haired tabby.  I suspect he’s an American short-hair but he could also easily just be a mixed breed with short hair.  Maybe that’s saying the same thing?  He is an ordinary cat and often I see images in magazines, on food or litter containers, on tv or in the vet’s office of a cat that looks almost identical to Toby.  Either he has a second life as a professional model that I know nothing about or he’s just an average Joe, common tabby cat.

Toby is four.  His birthday is July 4.  So he’s an American’s American – born the same day as his native country.  He is as picky and curious as any cat I have ever met.  However, unlike most felines, Toby has the grace of an elephant in roller skates.  He is the most accident prone animal.  I have never seen the like in a cat.  In my experience, cats are nimble, dexterous and deft.  We joke about it all the time because he is Allita’s pet and he is as clumsy and goofy as she is.  They both have perfected the I-meant-to-do-that look.    

Yesterday, during lunch, the doorbell rang.  I was excited because I was certain it was the concierge telling me that my long-awaited package from Texas had finally arrived.  So I dashed up the hall to the door and jerked it open.  It was the concierge, but his news was somewhat different.  He started speaking as soon as I opened the door.  Since he speaks no English and my Spanish is “no bueno” [no good], our conversations are usually brief and somewhat limited.  He appeared quite rattled, his eyes were enlarged, his face was flushed and he was breathing erratically as though he had run up four flights of stairs instead of simply taking the elevator.  I found out later that was exactly what he had done.  

“¡Tu gato esta abajo!” [Your cat is below!], he said to me pointing downwards to the floor.  “ABAJO” [BELOW!], he said again, only louder and clearer this time, because I had not made any motion or given any response.  I understood the meaning of all his words but they didn’t make sense to me.  I knew Toby was inside the apartment.  I had recently seen him wandering around.  I left the door open and rushed down the hall to ask Mom where Toby was.  I told her what the concierge had said, “Your cat is below!”.  She started looking for him.  I went back to the front door.  

“¡Ven!” [Come!], said the concierge.   He motioned me towards him.  I realized “ven” sounded a little like the word “vien” in French (high school French classes paying off) which means “come”.  So I left the apartment and went with him.  Inside the elevator, he started speaking to me again – using his hands and making sound effects to help explain his story.  

Cupping a hand behind one ear, he said, “Escuché un ‘POW’… (slapping hands together) y ‘MEOW! MEOW!’” [I heard a “POW”… and ‘Meow! Meow!’]  Then he showed me something diving off and landing using his hands and making the noise a small boy or cartoon show might use to mimic a bomb dropping or someone jumping off a cliff.  He went on to explain that he rushed upstairs to the noise and that’s when he saw the cat.  I heard him say “¡Dios mío!” [My God!] and then he pointed at me and said “blah blah blah… solo tu tienes un gato….blah blah blah”.  [Only you have a cat] Suddenly, I got a very bad feeling.  We were headed to find a cat that had jumped or fallen and was crying for help.  As he said, he knows I’m the only one in this entire building who has a cat so he believes this cat is Toby!  It couldn’t be Toby, I told myself.  I will not find Toby down here – it will be someone else’s cat – perhaps a white and brown cat or an orange one?  The concierge continued to speak to me but I only heard the sounds as my attention turned inward and I focused my fear on what this other cat would look like and what I might eventually discover.  

We arrived on the first floor and the concierge opened the door to “the hole”*.  I immediately heard the long tortured wail of a very scared cat.  I followed the concierge down a stepladder and walked across the floor (which isn’t really a floor), dodging laundry, clothes lines and various other items, until I got to the backdoor of the 4th apartment on floor 1.  There I saw him.  Toby.  Sitting in the kitchen windowsill of apartment 1, 4.  His tail was huge.  His whole body was huge.  I suspect all his hairs were simultaneously standing on end.  Although I called and called for him, he refused to budge.  Eventually, the concierge realized I would need access to the apartment in order to retrieve my cat. I heard him sigh “¡Dios mío!” and listened as he muttered to himself in Spanish and walked back to the entrance.

The lady in apartment 1, 4 is very nice.  I suspect we either interrupted her siesta or she works nightshift, as she was in her pajamas and seemed a little fuzzy-minded even at 1pm.  She’s young, perhaps in her 20s, and has a tiny, white pocket dog.  It’s the kind of dog that is very popular here – so small that it can fit into your pocket.  I could hear him madly barking his little high-pitched yip from one of the back rooms as I followed the lady into her kitchen.  We saw Toby through her windowpanes.  “¡Dios mío!”, she breathed.  She looked at me in surprise with her eyebrows raised (although I was fairly certain the concierge had just explained the situation to her) and I gave her a little smile, pointed at Toby and said “Mi gato” [My cat].  She opened the back door and he dashed inside.  When he realized he was not in his own actual apartment, he froze and that’s when I grabbed him.  

We left 1, 4 and I thanked everyone involved deeply and profusely – particularly the concierge who was now smiling but still concerned for Toby’s well-being (“¿Está bien?” [Is he ok?]).  Toby had buried his face in my neck and was shaking in my arms.  I headed to the elevator only to meet another of my neighbors, a nice-dressed elderly lady with perfect hair and a walker who was headed downstairs.  For no good reason, I joined her in the elevator and rode down one floor to the lobby instead of up to my fourth-floor apartment.  She politely told me that I was holding a cat in my arms. I politely nodded at her.  Then I made the same motions and noises the concierge had earlier in the same elevator and said “piso quatro a piso uno” which I hoped meant floor 4 to floor 1.  Her eyes got huge and she said “¡Dios mío!”.  Then she exited the elevator, turned to stare at me, shook her head and wandered down the hall to the concierge desk muttering out loud in Spanish.  Probably something about cats and their crazy owners.  I heard the concierge telling her about the “POW” and “MEOW! MEOW!” as the elevator doors closed.  I figured he would be recounting that story frequently in the coming days.

I took Toby back to our apartment and called the vet, who we had met for the first time only two days prior.  I eventually explained what had happened.  He said “¡Dios mío!” and that I should bring Toby in immediately.  Thus began a very expensive bill.  In the end, Toby is fine.  He has had considerable trauma (including having his entire belly shaved for an ultrasound!) and is in some pain but no broken bones, internal bleeding or organs damaged.  His spleen is enlarged but that’s expected and he has hyperextended (sprained) the “wrists” on his front two legs, which is also normal and expected.  Turns out, this happens often enough with cats that there is something called High Rise Syndrome.  As the vet explained to me, in the Spring and Fall, when the weather is cool enough, people in cities open their windows to let in the fresh air and their cats, peering through the vacant space once occupied by glass but now curiously not, will fall, often many more storeys than even poor Toby.  

We don’t know exactly how he got out the backdoor and eventually fell.  It’s possible he snuck out the door one of the many times we opened it while cooking to take a piece of recycling or trash to the correct container.  He’s done that before but we typically notice him because the space is so small.  There is a good chance he crawled out the kitchen window, which we had opened slightly after we cooked lunch because the room had gotten hot.  The window opens to the laundry room (literally over the washing machine) and ultimately “the hole”* so I never gave much thought, until now, to leaving it open for ventilation.  I suspect if Toby got onto the kitchen counter (forbidden territory!), walked on the stovetop (must have been hot), and crawled out the window, he would have ended up on top of the washing machine. Given his curious nature, he probably wandered over to the edge and peered down into “the hole”*. Given other aspects of his nature, it’s also likely this is when he slipped and fell.

Our new weekend plans include adding screens to all of the windows.  I don’t think any of us wants a repeat of this experience, much less Toby who is now down to 8 lives.

  ¡Dios mío!

* “the hole” is what we call the ventilation shaft. The area is large enough to park five or more cars side-by-side. The shaft runs the entire height of the building. The purpose of this space is to allow for exhaust. These apartment use gas to heat the hot water, for cooking and appliances, and to heat radiators. Gas is very common in Spain and so are “holes”. We call it “the hole” because it doesn’t actually go anywhere or have a view of anything outside the building. There is a door in addition to the small window that leads to this area and because we are on the fourth floor, we have what is actually a tiny patio. This patio has a half wall that is about the height of the washing machine and is where we keep recycling containers, cleaning equipment such as mop, broom and bucket, dirty clothes and the washing machine and water heater. On the backside of our half wall is our clothes line. In fact, all the apartments with doors or windows that lead to “the hole” have clothes lines mounted in this area. It is quite common to see clothes drying here because most people do not own an actual dryer

In Barcelona, Catalan is the primary language.  Spanish is secondary.  The law requires that all children between 6 and 16 attend school – no homeschooling allowed! – and that the children also learn Catalan.  In fact, public school is instructed only in Catalan at the primary level!  Private schools generally comply with this concept but also teach in Spanish.  Therefore, the school that Allita attends teaches her lessons in multiple languages.  She’s learning in Catalan and Spanish as required by law.  She’s learning in English as they are teaching the rest of the class to speak English.  She’s learning French in French because that is the foreign language she chose to learn.  One foreign language is required.  Catalan and Spanish don’t count as foreign languages since this is a Catalonian school even though they are as foreign as French is to her.  

Primary school starts at 9:30 in the morning.  ESO (7 – 10 tenth grade) and Baccalaureate (11-12 grade) start at 10am daily.  Around 10:30am, Allita has her first break for 30 mins.  This coincides with “second breakfast” (see post Meals in Spain).  The children eat a small meal of bocadillo (simple sandwich on a mini-baguette), a pastry purchased at a local bakery, or some fruit and cheese.  Whatever they eat, if they eat, it is food that is provided from home and not by the school.  They also have sufficient time during this break to enjoy some sports – such as soccer or basketball.  

Allita has math every day.  Her class is taught in Spanish and the book and workbook are written in Spanish.  This doesn’t usually present a problem since math is a language entirely its own – unless, of course, the work involves word problems.  She has art, music, drama, debate team, chess and yoga at least once per week.  These classes are provided to develop the social and interactive skills of the children.  For example, chess teaches strategic thinking and yoga teaches relaxation and stress management.  Allita already excels in debate team and anyone who knows her well is likely not surprised at this observation.   These classes are all taught in Catalan; however, the teacher allows students to respond in English or Spanish as well as Catalan.  

She has an English lesson at some point during each day; however, the level of English instruction is lower than her own level of competency so she usually spends this time practicing her Spanish or Catalan.  She has formal Catalan and French instruction 2-3 days a week -alternating weeks so that in a 2-week period, she has 5 full days of lessons.  She also has Science and Social Studies in this same manner: every other day – alternating days – so that she has 5 full days every 2 weeks.  She has a class called “reading comprehension” which is taught in both Spanish and Catalan but the written work for reading aloud is in Spanish.  This class is one day per week.  Twice per week, Allita takes individual piano lessons with a teacher from South America.  She loves this teacher and is delighted to have one-on-one instruction as she had in the U.S.  I believe this one commonality is somewhat reassuring for her since her routine is already so different and hectic.

One day per week, the 4th, 5th, and 6th level classes board a bus and head to a local gymnasium.  There they learn tennis, paddle ball, fitness, swimming and other organized sports.  They stay at this gymnasium for 3.5 hours.  Two days during the week, Allita has physical education class at the actual school – they play many sports and games and are generally very active.  This is a small school (Allita’s class is only 8 kids!) so all three grade levels are combined during sports in order for there to be sufficient players to staff a team.  

Every day around 1:15 in the afternoon, the children have a hot lunch that is cooked from scratch in the kitchen at the school by a licensed chef.  I discovered that this licensed school chef has a degree in nutrition as well as the necessary training and certification to be a Chef.  She attended school for 6 years and then apprenticed.  WOW! The meal is based on a Mediterranean diet.  Allita eats soups, salads, fish (all types!), potato omelettes, yogurt, chicken, ham, pork, rice, beef, lentils, fresh fruit and a variety of other dishes.  I’m delighted with this arrangement as she has tasted and, even eaten!, many foods that she would normally distain simply because she is hungry and surrounded by her observant peer group.  Additionally, her meals are served in courses (plate 1 then plate 2) as is common with here (Meals in Spain), so she has to finish one plate before she can have the other. If plate 2 is something she likes, then she forces herself to eat plate 1 in order to get it. Since she’s been a picky eater her whole life, the new lunch hot meal process is great for us! We have been able to add new dishes to our family meals as a result of her involuntary diet diversification. 

Soon, Allita will begin chess team and drama club after school.  Since normal classes end at 4:45 in the afternoon, the after school activities last until 5:30 pm.  We will have a 30-minute or so walk home from school, which means we will arrive around 6:15 pm or later every day.  With two hours of daily homework and dinner to eat, it makes for a long evening.  Thankfully, classes don’t start again until 9:30 the next morning, so we can shift our hours a little to be up longer but sleep later.  Now, with the influence of school, we are becoming more like the locals than ever before – awake and active late into the evenings.  Life is all about adaptation!