There's Always Room for Dessert

If you have a sweet tooth, living in Barcelona can either be a heavenly or hellish experience. For me, it's a bit of both. With an abundance of various options to fulfill my regular cravings for something sweet, I can pretty much find something satisfying at any given time of day or night. Great, right? Not so much. Though I'm certainly able to get my fix, it ends up being money unnecessarily spent (FYI: exchange rate is roughly $1.51 to 1 euro now), and definitely isn't helping me maintain the relatively healthy eating habits I have back at school.

While most kids from my program have the issue of spending most of their money on alcohol, I face a similar problem, but with sweets instead. Basically, I have no will power when it comes to stuffing myself with junk. Since I normally I live off of a meal plan, I have little reason to venture beyond my campus' dining hall and go out of my way to waste hard cash on candy/junk food, and therefore I'm better able to avoid such temptation. But things are much different here. It's not at all uncommon for me to make a meal of some type of dessert, especially when there is so much unique variety, and my options for food are limited (both due to my laziness in learning to cook, and the presence of pork in almost every small meal option other than Doner Kebab, which I've already had four times in the past week).

What makes turning down all of this junk especially difficult is the fact that my stomach is able to make a fair bit of arguments to justify what I've been eating:
-You can't get it in the states
-You don't normally eat this unhealthily, so what harm is there in doing so for a few months?
-This is a once in a lifetime chance; you shouldn't leave it with any regrets (you may be thinking "who on earth would actually 'regret' passing on dessert?" I would. No, I'm serious)

So here's a roundup of what's been going into my stomach, and what you folks are missing out on:

Gofres

Words cannot convey how strongly I feel about Gofres. A crass description would be that a Gofre (a.k.a. The Liège Waffle) is a small, fresh waffle coated with a layer of caramelized sugar (giving it a slightly crisp outer shell), which is then topped with some type of sweet(s). The most simple of gofres will be topped with nothing more than a layer of nutella, though more can be added in the form of condensed milk, custard ("crema"), caramel ("dulce de leche"), whipped cream, bananas, nuts, strawberries, gelato, etc.

I can honestly say that the Gofre, in its many varieties, rivals the cookie (all varieties, cooked and uncooked) as my all-time favorite dessert. In fact, it would surely take the top spot if cookies didn't have the advantages of portability and the fact that they can be consumed in multiples without making me sick. (Honorable Mention: Crepes of any "sweet" variety, Cold Stone's "Mud Pie Mojo", and Chicken and Egg's "Stoner Cakes").

Churros

Churros are a lot more common in Spain than in the states (where I can only seem to find them at CostCo), and are markedly different from their American counterparts ("hombres"?). The churros I've encountered in the past tended to be much longer and more doughy than those you find here in Barcelona. Here they are generally short (3-4 inches) and much crispier on the outside, while being more dense on the inside. Also, a variety exists in churros here, as you can get them plain (with powdered or granulated sugar), chocolate covered (kind of like doughnuts, but 10 times better because they are crispy and more dense), or stuffed (with chocolate, crema, or dulce de leche). Another option is that you order plain churros, but ask for them con chocolate caliente ("with hot chocolate"). Because chocolate caliente is so thick here, it becomes a dipping sauce for the churros (it's actually the same stuff the chocolate-covered churros are covered in before they harden), which can be fun.

I'm personally a fan of the stuffed (not so much the dulce de leche, though) churros, mainly because they are cheaper than a small vaso (a paper cone; translates to "glass") of the plain or chocolate-covered (1 euro for one stuffed versus ~1,50 for five or six small at the stand where I get them), and are equally filling. The ones with chocolate caliente are too rich for me, as there's always leftover chocolate, and drinking that (which is it's actual intended purpose to begin with) is like drinking a cup of melted semi-sweet chocolate chips. Even I can't handle that.

Basically, the hierarchy of Spanish churros works like this (for me, at least):
crema stuffed > chocolate stuffed > chocolate-covered > plain > dulce de leche-stuffed > plain with chocolate caliente

Pastries
Though these aren't nearly as unique as the two aforementioned items, this is certainly worth taking note of. Pastry shops are literally everywhere. There are 4 within 100 meters of my apartment. This becomes especially difficult in those morning walks to school, during which I pass a dozen or so bakeries. The alluring scent of freshly made croissants, tarts, and the like, is impossible to ignore, so it is not at all uncommon for me to quickly stop in and grab a topped (powdered sugar, honey, nuts, or sprinkles) and filled (chocolate, custard, or apple) pastry "para llevar" (essentially "to go", although a more direct translation would be "for to wear").

Gelato
I don't really understand the big deal about this stuff. Don't get me wrong, it's good, but I don't find it to be that good. For as good as it looks, I would expect it to be much more satisfying. I suppose nothing beats my Mud Pie Mojo. Everybody else seems to think its the "cat's pajamas" (shout out to Saif-e Bhai, who probably doesn't know this blog exists), though.

In an effort to curb my consumption of all these sweets, I've tried to set some ground rules for myself:
-If you can get it in America, there's no sense in spending more to get it here.
-Never buy in bulk (our grocery store sells multi-packs of Twix, Mars, and other Euro candies), because you'll eat it all at once.
-One Gofre a week maximum (since I like them far better from one specific shop in the Gothic Quarter, which is at 15 minute metro ride from my place, this should be a piece of cake --no pun intended)
-A total of three churros/pastries a month (one or the other)


Morals of the story:
-Dessert is awesome.
-Gofres are enough of a reason for you to visit Europe.
-I may very well be 20lbs heavier upon my arrival (Thankfully, I've yet to pack on the weight, but that's probably because my caloric intake is too low for anything to be stored as excess).


Unrelated Note/Ridiculously Long Digression:
I've been thinking about opening up a "dessert lounge", perhaps a late-night restaurant specializing in serving various desserts (aptly named The Midnight Snack; equipped with nice couches/sofas, mood lighting, music, etc.). Here I would sell all types of dessert foods, including cookies, brownies, ice cream, sundaes, cakes, shakes, smoothies (there's gotta be at least one healthy option), cupcakes, and anything else, both with traditional and unorthodox varieties for each.

Anyway, I was thinking of modifying my present scheme by either giving it an international theme, or making it part the dessert menu for my recently thought-up gourmet sandwich shop, where I served traditional international dishes, but converted them into sandwiches/wraps/pitas (it would thus be called Around the World in 80 Bites-- potential dishes include The Italy, pasta with sauce and meat/veggies stuffed between two slices of pizza; Butter Chicken with Roasted Red Peppers on Nan, etc.). For the dessert menu, I would offer dessert foods from all over the world, thus bringing things like Gofres and Churros stateside. Here they would accompany other dessert foods like Baklava, Mochi, Sticky Rice, Crème brûlée (here they have their own version, called Crema Catalana), and other ethnic/international sweets.

Perhaps I'll have a restaurant by day, dessert lounge by night type of set-up, or just make it one of my many restaurants (one of my other ideas was to convert part of an abandoned train station into a themed restaurant called The Last Stop, where patrons sit in pseudo train cars and are waited on by people dressed in conductors' outfits; food would be brought to the tables via toy train set).

That ended up being much more longer than intended...my bad.

There's No Such Thing as Free Water

So my crusade against purchasing bottled water came to a screeching halt upon my arrival in Barcelona, as the tap water here doesn't seem to be clean (it has a distinct smell and taste to it, even after heating/boiling it), and Brita-esque filters are difficult, if not impossible, to find. While the public authorities claim the water is completely safe for drinking, if the locals aren't even drinking it, I figure I'm much better off shelling out some Euro for the added peace of mind.

Thankfully since the demand for clean water is high (4 million+ people in the city and surrounding metropolitan area), there's a huge market for it, which leads to a ton of competition, which means prices that are, in most cases, much lower than in the US (man, I miss introductory Microeconomics). Basically, one can purchase an 8 liter jug of water here for €1,15-2,50 depending on the brand and where it's purchased from. Translate that to dollars (€1 = ~$1.48), and you're paying $1.70-3.70 for 8 liters, whereas a 25 pack (0.5 liter each x 25 = 12.5 liters) of Deer Park water bottles costs about $5 at Costco. Assuming people drank solely bottled water in the States (common on college campuses, at least), I'd be saving quite a bit of cash (in addition to plastic), so I shouldn't be complaining too much.

Unfortunately, paying for clean water in grocery stores means paying for clean water at restaurants and cafes also, which certainly is not as cheap. While I haven't been to any really posh restaurants, the cost of a half liter bottle of water seems to range anywhere from €1-1,50 in most places. Ridiculous, no?

Well, leave it to my Sigg to save the day. Back home I pretty much don't go anywhere without my trusty, non-chemical-leeching water bottle, so why should things be any different in Barcelona? While originally I would only take it with me to class, since the days are long and predictably unpredictable, I've recently begun taking it everywhere in my gym bag (one of those small, lightweight drawstring pouches you wear like a backpack). Since it doesn't outwardly look like a water bottle, I'm able to sneak in a few sips while dining, saving me some cash and the guilt of having contributed to the ecological dent caused by the production and transportation of an additional bottle.

Side note:
Spain's been in a drought for the past few years, and as the desertification of the Iberian Peninsula continues (currently at 1/3, according to Toni, one of my professors), matters seem to only be getting worse. Since I've been here, there have only been three days of rain, which, albeit nice from a pedestrian's perspective, should definitely be a cause for concern. When speaking of the looming drought, Toni is always quick to mention (not an exact quote):

"People always ask 'Aren't you worried about terrorism?' 'No, no, no! That's something that I cannot control' , it's unpredictable. I'm more worried about the drought, because we know that's happening. How the hell is a city that can barely provide water to its 4 million inhabitants (metropolitan area) going to be able to provide for them and the 20 million tourists that come here annually?"

Thank you, Global Warming.

That's enough ranting for now...

Adéu!

My New Haircut

No, I'm not referring to the viral youtube video; I actually got a haircut. I figured since I was going to be away from home for four months it would be the perfect opportunity for me to try out some random hairstyles without catching flak from my father (other than traffic/wreckless drivers this seems to be the only thing that can anger him).

While mullets and rat tails seem to reign supreme here in the BCN, I didn't think I was ready for such drastic a change on my first attempt. Instead, I opted for the more subtle "fauxhawk" (longer on top and in the back, with clippered/buzzed sides --essentially a poor man's mohawk), which I figured would be enough to help me blend in among the locals.

Though I had initially planned on doing some research into barbershops (potentially seeking out ones that had English-speaking barbers and specialized in more unorthodox hairstyles), after seeing a picture of what my hair looked like last week, I realized that action needed to be taken immediately. I didn't have time to be overly picky in deciding where I would go, so I felt my best bet was to try out a place down the street where the girls who live below us went to get their hair colored.

Knowing that the barbers/stylists didn't speak English, I tried my best to prepare a phrases that could be used to describe the style I was going for. Thankfully, I didn't have to say much, as my the second question I asked (after asking the cost, of course) put me in the clear:

¿Tienes fotos o revistas de estilos differentes? (Do you have photos or magazines of different styles)

After she sat me down and showed me a binder full of pictures, I was able to narrow down my selection to exactly what I wanted with a simple "¿Es posible cortar comó este?" (is it possible to [have my hair] cut like this?). To which I thankfully received an affirmative "Sí."

While there wasn't too much speaking on my part after this, the sheer anticipation of having to answer questions or request modifications forced me to think ahead a great deal, which made this the most prolonged period in which I spoke/thought solely in Castillano ("Spanish", as we know it) since arriving here nearly 6 weeks ago. Assuming I'm able to put myself in more situations of this kind, I think it won't be long (God willing) before I'll be making strides toward becoming conversant. It's a shame it took me this long, though.

(It's a bit short, so it's not too noticeable yet)

Pamplona & San Sebastian

I personally don't find it all that interesting to blog detailedly about what I did, so I'll try to make that portion of the post somewhat brief, after which I'll include some observations and stuff (more interesting, in my opinion).

This past weekend our group went on its first overnight excursion, as we traveled westward into the Basque Country to visit the cities of Pamplona and San Sebastian.

Brief Synopsis: Pamplona
After departing early Friday morning (7:30-ish), we made the 6 hour bus ride to Pamplona, the city famed for its annual San Fermín festival (known for its "Running of the Bulls"). Upon our arrival we were met by our tour guide, who gave us a brief (2.5-3 hours, maybe) walking tour of the Old City. Our tour consisted of three notable portions: (1) walking part of the route that the six bulls run each summer during the festival, (2) checking out a bar/restraunt where Hemingway used to hang out, and (3) visiting the city's cathedral.

Final thoughts: Pamplona
While the city was very nice and quaint, I wasn't blown away by it, and thus don't care to write much about it. Had I visited during the festival, I'm sure there would be MUCH more to say. Other than that, the one thing that probably surprised me the most about Pamplona was how clean and well-maintained it was (although it is likely that this is just a result of it not being a densely populated area).

(Not-so) Brief Synopsis: San Sebastian
Once our tour ended, we hopped back on the bus and headed off to San Sebastian (a 1.5-2 hour drive). Since we arrived in the evening, there was little time for us to do anything after arriving, as we had a group dinner planned for later on. The dinner was very unique to say the least, as we dined at a traditional Basque cider house. Other than the trip I made to an all-you-can-eat sushi bar in my first week after arriving in Barcelona, this was definitely the biggest meal I'd had in the past month. Appetizers consisted of a potato and fish omelette, followed by a course of some other type of fish with green peppers, which was followed by steak, and topped-off with desert (Gouda cheese with apricot jam). Aside from the steak, which I opted to pass on since it was still bloody, the food was delicious. In addition to tons of food, the restaurant also offered all-you-can-drink cider, which meant that not only was everyone well-fed, but most of the kids from the program were at least buzzed, if not drunk by the end of the meal, which I found to be mildly entertaining.

The next morning we had a scheduled tour of the city. Since the weather was oddly nice (in the mid 60's) given the time of year, it ended up being the perfect day for walking about. On a good day, San Sebastian is an incredibly beautiful city, mainly due to the fact that it's a coastal town among mountains, so the beaches are plentiful, and the views are breath-taking. The water is a blue unlike any that I can remember ever seeing in person.

Aside from it's overall beauty, San Sebastian is known for its cuisine, which one of our program directors hailed as being the best in all of Spain. The most famous of its delicacies are Pintxos (small, elaborate finger foods), which are the Basque equivalent of Tapas. People traditionally go from bar to bar in a sort of "Pintxo hopping" to try out the various unique offerings of each bar. Unfortunately for me, the one pintxo I bought ended up having sausage in it (thankfully this was brought to my attention prior to inhaling it), so I didn't quite get the chance to experience pintxos firsthand.

Our program had arranged for a spa visit for all of us kids, so after lunch, we all visited a really fancy spa and got to experience the wonders of hydrotherapy. Basically we went into a series of different pools within which there were stations set up, with each focusing on massaging a different area of the body using water jets (ex. calves, hamstrings, lower back, upper back, shoulders, neck, etc.). This was followed by access to a sauna, steam room, and ice water bath (surprisingly invigorating).

The rest of the day was left to us for wandering, shopping, or whatever else one may have sought to do. Since Barcelona was playing Sevilla that night, I decided I'd tag along with the others in hopes that I'd find a bar where the game was being showed. Unfortunately this didn't work out as me and two others got separated from the others (who took cabs), and spent the next two hours walking into every bar we saw. Given that there were over 50 or so small bars within a half-mile radius, this became a bit of a task. By the time we had finally gotten in touch with everyone else, I was ready to head back, and hopped in a cab with the few who shared my thoughts.

After stuffing ourselves with our included, all-you-can-eat hotel breakfasts (which consisted of various breads, cereals, fruits, yogurts, pastries, churros, juices and eggs), we hopped on the bus and embarked on our 7-8 hour drive back to Barcelona.

Final Thoughts: San Sebastian
Simply put, the place was gorgeous. It's no real surprise to me that this is supposedly the most expensive place to live in all of Spain (real-estate wise). A very unique and charming city/town coupled with beaches and mountains seems like a winning combination to me. If you're ever looking for a relaxing weekend while in Spain or France, it's definitely worth a short trip.

Obeservations: the Basque Country
Prior to coming here the only times I had ever heard the Basque Country being mentioned was in reference to either its (often-violent) expressions of nationalism and desire for independence, or with regard to its unique language. Assuming this goes the same for others, I figured I'd offer my personal take on both topics.

Basque Nationalism:
Other than Northern Ireland and Sri Lanka, the Basque Country was essentially one of the few instances in which I can recall "terrorism" being mentioned and not being linked to the Muslims (see ETA). Nationalism seems to be a HUGE issue here, even more so than in Catalonia. Taking into account that we were certainly not in the heart of the Basque Country (San Sebastian has a large foreign population, so I wouldn't expect much in the form of rioting and protest around these parts), I was extremely surprised with the amount of graffiti, murals, posters/banners, and Basque flags making reference to the independence movement that adorned every single street and alleyway. It was wild.

The Basque Language:
The Basque language ("Euskara") is crazy. While one would expect it to share similarities with either Spanish or French, it is a language entirely of its own. I guess that this shouldn't be much of a surprise, as it is said to predate the Romance, Germanic, and Celtic languages, but still...it's kind of a trip seeing the translations (most signs are written in both Spanish and Basque), as the words/phrases look/sound completely dissimilar. This is markedly different from Catalan and Galician (the two other regional languages that differ from Castillian), both of which can be construed as being mixes of the two languages of the areas surrounding the regions in which they are spoken (Catalan seems like a fusion of French and Castillian --although it predates Castillian--, while Gailician is supposedly a mix of Portuguese and Castillian).


That's enough for now...

Adeu!

Carnivál '08

This past Thursday marked the beginning of Carnivál (not "carnival", as in ferris wheels and cotton candy, but "Carnival", as in Rio, parades, feathers, and festivities), here in Spain. One of the biggest destinations for Carnival in the Iberian Peninsula is Sitges (pronounced Seet-jez), a small city about 30-40 minutes outside of Barcelona by bus/train. While normally Sitges is known as being a relatively serene beach town where the rich (FC Barcelona players, wealthy Catalans, and tons from other parts of Europe) and gay come to live, during Carnival, its flooded with thousands upon thousands of Spaniards and other Europeans, all looking to party and take part in the celebration.

Since it was so close by, there was really no reason not to go, so I, along with most (although not all together) of the other kids from my program, made the 30-40 minute train ride to Sitges on Saturday evening. We arrived around 7pm, and unfortunately, it began to rain as soon as we stepped out of the train station. It wasn't long before the streets became completely devoid of people. The rain lasted a few hours, during which we took shelter in a restraunt, and later in the hotel room of some friends who decided to stay the night. Thankfully, after the rain died down, things livened up quite a bit.

While Saturday night isn't supposed to be one of the more active nights of Carnival, there were still a ton of people in the streets, about 60% or so of whom were decked-out in some type of costume (think Halloween meets Mardi Gras). I had anticipated the costumes to be flashy and festive-looking outfits (bright colors, feathers, glitter, boas, etc.), I was surprised to see that about half of the people who were dressed up were wearing your run-of-the-mill Halloween costumes. This meant we saw everything from gaudily-dressed drag queens to a group of Smurfs.

The atmosphere alone was worth the trip; music blared from every direction, people were dancing in the streets, and there was just a general feeling of excitement/joy in the air (I'm sure alcohol had something to do with this. I was probably the only completely sober person in the city that day). Sadly, all this excitement wore off after a short while, as it wasn't long before most of the kids I came with were trashed. Since my tolerance for dealing with others' drunken revelry is pretty low, I, along with Emily, one of the girls from our program, and my new partner in sobriety, decided we were better off leaving. Though I had initially planned to spend the night out and take the 5am train the following morning, it became a bit annoying having to stick with a group of 15 drunken kids, as there was the constant issue of people getting separated/lost, getting into arguments with one another, etc. So, to avoid being trapped in Sitges for another five hours, we made a run for it to catch the last train of the night.

Since we weren't entirely satisfied with our Carnival experiences, Emily and I decided we would make the trip back on Tuesday to catch the last (and most festive, along with Sunday night) night of celebrations. What good is going to Carnival if you don't even get to see a parade, right? We got there around 5:30, which was perfect because it gave us a enough time to walk around and explore the city, catch the sun setting into the Mediterranean (amazing), and ensured that we wouldn't miss the evening's parade. We even caught the tail end of the children's parade.

Walking around the city was pretty sweet. Since we got there fairly early, there weren't as many people in costume, and the overall scene was much quieter. We got to check out the church of Sant Bartomeu i Santa Tecla, and wander through the confetti-littered streets for a few hours before people began really pouring in for the evening's Rua de l‘Extermini (Extermination Parade). That's when the real excitement began.

Sidewalks were barricaded and completely packed with thousands of people struggling to get within view of the approaching parade, which began around 9pm and lasted for three and a half hours. The parade was unlike anything I had ever before witnessed. Each float that passed had it's own theme, ranging from traditional carnival-esque, to racy, to irrelevant, and began with a choreographed group dance (often accompanied by flares and mini fireworks), and continued with the costumed participants leading the float down the street, dumping confetti over the onlookers, and dancing to whatever music was blaring from its speakers (techno, reggaeton, 80's pop, or more traditional Catalan dance music). Though I'd never be able to do it justice with a description alone, simply put, the parade was insane.

Though it was a ton of fun to watch, I became a bit restless after the first 2 hours or so, since there wasn't any way of knowing when it would end, and I was freezing since I stupidly decided to leave my coat at home (the weather was really nice earlier in the day). On top of that, my camera battery died from all of the pictures and videos I was taking, so I had less of a desire to stick around in the cold. Unfortunately, given where we were standing (the beginning of the route), it was more or less impossible to leave, as there were so many people around us, and barricades were placed everywhere. As soon as the parade ended (around 12:30), we made our way back to the train station, only to find out that the last train had left almost an hour earlier. Luckily we were told by a police officer that there was a bus that ran from Sitges to Barcelona every hour.

Once we got to the bus stop, a waiting American told us that the bus comes every hour in about 20-30 minutes, and only fits 55 passengers. In an attempt to get out of the cold, we went to a bar across the street, where I got a sandwich to keep me busy for a few minutes. By the time we got back to the stop, the group of 40 or so that we had left turned into what appeared to be at least 120. As we waited for the bus we met a gay couple from Miami (they thought we were Spaniards and tried to ask us if they were at the correct bus stop), to whom we explained the scenario: one bus every hour, 55 people max. Though he felt bad doing so, since they had a flight to catch that morning, one of them decided it would be best to "act like Americans" and bully our way onto the bus. While I shared his guilt, I agreed based on the assumption that most of those who were waiting had some amount of alcohol in their systems, and would thus fair better than I in the cold due (see "alcohol blanket").

Amazingly, when the bus arrived, it ended up stopping directly in front of us. Within a second we were being pressed up against the bus (I've never been so smooshed in my life-- my elbow even ended up being lodged in some poor guy's adam's apple) from all directions, most forcefully by those who had been waiting in line and protested our luck by trying to shove us out of the way. Thankfully one of the Miami guys was pretty diesel and was able to hold his ground despite being pushed and pulled by everyone around him. As the door opened he quickly got on, grabbed Emily and his boyfriend, and wrestled them onto the bus. For me, getting on was slightly trickier, but with the help of another guy who was trying to cut in front of those waiting, I was able to force my way on.

With so many people fighting to get onto the bus, the scene became extremely chaotic. from inside we could hear the cursing and yelling of those outside, and even witnessed the unfortunate event of a drunk guy kicking and hitting a girl who got on in front of him. Thankfully the people behind him were able to quickly pull him away, after which he screamed obscenities at the girl in Spanish, and was tossed back into the street. Other than that, the ride home was pretty calm, as we just conversed with the Miami guys about what life after college is like. At the end of the night, I was back in Barcelona around 2:30, and after taking the NitBus, back at my place around 3, only to have class the next morning (I like how this seems to be the norm out here for weekdays).

All in all, getting to see Carnival in Sitges was a pretty amazing experience. I doubt I'll ever get the chance to do something like this again, so I'm certainly glad I was able to go back on Tuesday to see the organized events as opposed to just the partying aspect on Saturday.

Wow. Let's hope I never have to write an entry this long ever again.

Super Bowl?

For those of you who were curious (specifically BJ), I did get a chance to watch the game...partially. And what a game it was! My dream, which was for every Patriot player or fan's dream to be crushed, came true, so I'm pretty much ecstatic. I'm sure if two of my roomates ( girls who don't care for football) hadn't been sleeping, I would've been screaming my brains out after Plax caught the game-winning ball (on a side note: In the event that I have three sons, I've decided to name the third-born "Plaxico Burress...Khan" because it's pretty much the coolest name ever, and I'm sure he'd be slightly more embarrassed if I chose to call him "Guzunfur Webster Papadopolis Khan". If you're wondering, the first two will be "Kareem Abdul-Jabbar Khan" and "Hakeem Olajuwon Khan" due to the relative ease of pronunciation by Americans in comparison to more typical Muslim names). This is probably the first Super Bowl outcome I've been pleased with since the Broncos beat the Falcons in '99 (the 2000 Ravens and '06 Steelers don't count, as those were probably the most boring games I have ever watched).

Since every club/bar/nightlife promoter in town is well aware of the fact that Barcelona is packed with American students (and that most Americans love to get trashed, and are hence a lucrative market to tap into), there were a number of bars and lounges holding festivities in honor of the big game. Unfortunately for me, I have a paper due tomorrow morning, as well as a group presentation (of which I was made aware a few hours ago) for the same class, so I opted to stay in while the rest of my apartment/building-mates went out. In the meantime, I decided I'd just watch the game the same way I had watched the last two playoff rounds, from my laptop (thank God for channelsurfing.net), figuring I'd hop on the metro and swing by a bar during halftime to catch the rest.

As usual, I neglected to take into account the fact that the metro closes at midnight. Given that kick off was scheduled for 12:30am over here, my plan never stood a chance, and instead I was stuck watching on the small screen. Fair enough, I thought, at least I get the chance to watch the game, right? Wrong. My connection has been exceptionally bad this past week and the host I was streaming the game from died on me before the end of the first half.

Thankfully, channelsurfing offered multiple streams for the game, one of which partially worked for me. Though the video was interrupted every 10-20 seconds, I was able to catch most of the key plays/replays, all the while listening to the radio broadcast through another channelsurfing stream (I had to run Firefox and IE simultaneously). I've always admired the abilities of color commentators to quickly and clearly detail every aspect of the game, but never as much as I did today, as I likely would've missed a ton of what was going on had it not been for the talents of Marv Albert and whoever his sidekick was.

Long story short, I got to hear the game in its entirety, and thankfully got to see most of the pivotal moments (touchdowns, turnovers, etc.). Not many people will be able to say they witnessed firsthand the defeat of the Anti-Christ, but thankfully I'll be one of the few. Although I hate to say it, it almost makes a 7-9 Bears season worthwhile...

Anyway, I have a paper and presentation due in a few hours, so that's it for me.

Cooking For One

For me, living in an apartment for the first time can also be equated with cooking for the first time. Only now can I begin to fathom the amount of time and effort my mother puts into cooking meals for the family on an almost-nightly basis (respect!). While my "cooking" is nowhere near being on the scale of hers (obviously I'm only cooking for myself, and I'm certainly not at her level when it comes to expertise, capability, and complexity), I find it to be a daunting task nonetheless. I quickly realized why my diet when at home (on the weekends or over breaks) consists almost entirely of cereal, aside from the dinner that is prepared for me.

Before I continue, I'd like to clarify what I'm actually referring to when I use the term "cooking". Basically, all I've "cooked" thus far has been eggs, sandwiches, and pasta, no different from anything I've made before. While this doesn't sound like much of an accomplishment, especially since I already knew how to "cook" the aforementioned "dishes", as each day passes I'm able to add some personal touches to each, given what little I have to work with. "Eggs" become eggs cooked in Salsa Brava, with diced tomatoes, green olives, and swiss/gouda cheese. "Sandwiches" become peanut butter and banana/cooked apple on wheat, or turkey/fried salmon, tomato, spinach, and swiss cheese on a fried baguette. "Pasta" becomes tortellini with fresh diced tomatoes, olive oil, spinach leaves, and chopped dates. I can only expect that this trend of experimentation will continue.

As you can see, most of my meals consist of the same basic ingredients, but with the amount of fresh fruit, veggies, and spices available nearby, I'm hoping this list will expand. I haven't gotten much meat yet, as we have a strange oven (it doesn't tell you degrees for temperature, only numbers 1-6), so I don't want to mess around with that just yet. Luckily the Pakistani and Arab neighborhoods are stocked with Halal Butcher Shops, so I hope this will change soon.

Sorry for being so boring, but since a lot of folks keep asking about my eating situation, I figured this would shed some light on the matter. If any of you folks have some simple recipes that I may be able to add to my arsenal, send 'em my way!