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After approximately a month in Barça, I have now started classes…er “shopping period” (¿¿periodo de compras??).  Unlike for most students, Spanish or otherwise, my program allows us to cross-enroll in multiple Spanish universities, and with the goal of fulfilling some concentration credits, I have wound up taking courses on three different campuses (including the one we take through the program itself).  During this process I’ve realized how spoiled I am at school back home being able to hop out of bed and walk five minutes to any given class.  Here, I will have to hop on the metro two days a week and ride a half hour outside of the city for one of my classes.

Yesterday was one such day, and it did not pan out the way I’d hoped.  At all.  For starters, I was already in somewhat of a touchy mood because I had been fasting for Yom Kippur and despite trying to preserve the spirit of the holiday, sometimes hunger gets the better of, well, my spirit.  Upon arriving to the suburban campus 2 hours early (I figured I’d need at least that much time to factor in getting lost), I attempted (for the second time) to get my student ID card.  Fail.  Long lines.  Inefficiency.  With no central registrar or scheduling office, I had to run around the labyrinthine campus to look up the classroom of my class for the day. Not seeing it listed anywhere on the bulletin board of department stop #1 (sociology), I went to department #2 (communications) and still had no luck.  With 15 minutes to go before showtime, I luckily had a “lightbulb moment” (which were hard to come by yesterday working on an empty stomach) and went to the library and onto the computer to go on the internet to check my email to see if I’d received any scheduling info from the program directors.  Which, mercifully, I had.  The classroom was listed (though the listing was nowhere to be found on the bulletins) and I made my way to the class with a few minutes to spare.  But. The. Class. Was. In. Catalan.  I have only taken 6 “intensive” 2.5 hour classes worth of Catalan.  I. Cannot. Understand. Catalan.  This evidently would not work.  Thankfully the class ended after a half hour, not the original intended 2 hours.

But with a yummy breakfast in my belly (courtesy of two wonderful Jewish-mamas-in-training on my program), today was much better.  I got the damn ID card (third times the charm, right?) and made it on time to a new class, which was in SPANISH! (Did I ever expect to be excited to hear a class is in 100% Spanish?)  Spirits were sufficiently buoyed.

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