Antoni Gaudi

I woke up forty-three minutes early this morning and I was not happy about it.  During all of that extra time, I read a Spanish brochure and understood the whole thing!  I was immediately put in a good mood for the day.  Later, at school, it was a brand-new start to the week! I returned to the classroom for second period five minutes early from our break, expecting to be alone.  When I walked through the door I found a pale white, round-faced boy with rumpled light hair sitting in my seat. My seat. His shirt read, “I am thinking of a perfectly good excuse.”  He couldn’t have been older than fifteen.“Cómo te llamas?” I probed. “Alexadre-blah-blah,” the kid replied.  Foreign.  “Cuantos años tienes?”  “Quince.” Yes! I wasn’t the baby anymore! So I told him the ropes of the school like I’d lived in it my whole life.  I told him where we all get coffee and croissants and about the roof terrace where we chill during breaks.  I told him all the other students were old except for me, and I managed to do it all in five minutes.  When everyone returned, the teacher asked him his name and nationality, and then I realized he spoke English.  Stupid me. Alex – I decided on just Alex – was from The Ukraine, and he seemed to speak perfect Russian, English, and Spanish.  Beats me as to why he’s in level two out of five Spanish.  I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this, but you know, I think I am the only person in school who speaks only English, and to be honest it’s kind of embarrassing.  I want very badly to beat the stereotype of being a stupid, self-centered American, but there were just so many factors of my everyday life that I have to downplay during class discussions.  The one language thing, for example.  What foods do we eat?  Hamburgers.  How much do you spend on such and such? Way too much.

 

There were other new students too.  Joining Alex in second period, who was rambling in Russian with Marina (the woman who used to sit next to me before Alex took my seat), was a new French girl with a French name that I don’t remember.  During third period, which was taught by the woman who used to teach fourth period (which I went home for), there were three new students:  A dark-skinned, green-eyed Moroccan young man from Paris; a German girl with short curly hair and a polka dotted dress who was taken straight out of an old black-and-white photo; and a Finnish woman with glasses who couldn’t speak much English and sat right next to me.  Class taught by the woman (Marta) was fun and relaxing – a nice change from Gabriel, with whom you can never know what to expect.  Every week the two teachers of a class will switch off between first and second or third and fourth period.  On my way home, I was met by my family and we made our way to Parc Guell, a place built by Antoni Gaudi, and later dedicated to him by turning his home into a museum. 

 

We had amazing Italian food, had gelato on the roof terrace, and went to bed.