#eventhehardparts

[livethatdream-blog1]

Getting Comfy

Yesterday I was climbing up the stairs to my apartment thinking, “You know, I think I’m finally getting truly settled. Barcelona and I are really starting to get along. Hey, this place is kinda even starting to feel like home!”

I reached the top of the stairs and opened the door, where my musings were interrupted by my soaked, panicked housemate waving a mop in my face and yelling, “WE DON’T HAVE ANY WATER!”

The gist went like this:

The water heater “F^$KING BROKE”.

Water was “UP TO HERE” (vague waist-level hand motion).

One thing though was for certain: my flatmate had successfully turned off the main valve and we didn’t have any water.

In a stunning turn of events, a nice plumber by the name of Mohammad came and fixed the broken pipe, made a recommendation to get a completely new water heater, brought it and installed it all within 36 hours.

Really, guys. My one job today was to stay at home and wait to let in the repairman, but I was so sure that he wasn’t going to come (because, guys, we’re in Spain) that I left to get coffee with a friend and he showed up while I was away.

Humiliated.

Anna. You had one job.

Speaking of jobs, my new employment is shaping up to be just great! I’ve only been at it for about a week, so I feel like I still don’t quite know what’s going on, but I seem to have lucked out in becoming the newest member of a big family. Already I really like the people I work with and what I get to do. It’s excellent!

On Tuesday I decided to get a bank account. I lucked out. Praise God, I managed to get the bank employee who was (as he told me), “passionate about helping people feel comfortable with each of their banking decisions”. That dear man took over an hour to help me select the correct account and set it up, dubious legality and all (*cough*), to my liking. As of now I am the proud owner of a Spanish bank account!

I emailed Javier the next day to tell him how wonderful he is, and he promptly returned the note:

“Muchísimas gracias Anna por tus palabras.”

 *(That means thanks for your words)*

English teaching is pretty swell, too. My lessons are price-leveled according to planning difficulty, which means that about two evenings a week I teach conversational English to women my age, two evenings a week I teach English to young boys, and one afternoon a week I work with two teenage girls.

My favorites are the conversation classes. I do topical planning to lend a professional air to my “class” and then I basically serve as a friend, confidant, encourager, and advisor for an hour. My small boy lessons are significantly more difficult to plan and run, but I decided about a week ago to take the pressure off myself to do a formal “lesson” because these kids will definitely learn as much or more from songs, games, and videos. That strategy helped me feel less stressed and more successful this week by far.

Frankly, however, I’m strongly considering adding a Teenage Girl Surcharge to my rates for future clients.

I’m learning a lot about myself. For instance, I found out today that when I live in an apartment with other people, cleaning is less of a chore. Instead of cleaning to, “be a good person” or something that I can never seem to get clear in my head, I get to clean because I want my flatmates to be able to live in a clean home and I want them to be surprised and happy when they get home and see I cleaned.  I sure hope I can keep that positive attitude in future!

Oh! And this Sunday night is going to be my first night interpreting the Hillsong Sunday evening service into English in real time! Wish me luck! Pray for me! Send me money! Or help! Send help!

That’s all from Barcelona!

(My first tour!)

My lovely new friend Celeste on the most famous street in Barcelona’s Jewish quarter, El Call!

Because of the house of the LORD our God, I will seek thy good. Psalm 122:9

When I awake, I am still with Thee. Psalm 139:18

...for you are with me. Psalm 23:4B

[livethatdream-blog1]

Catastrophe. Oh! And a Job!

One by one, things that make me comfortable fall away. My steady job; familiar food; air conditioning; the hot water in my apartment; my stove; my oven; my heater; seeing my friends; grocery stores that are open on Sundays.

This week: political rights.

As you guys probably are aware, this week swept the Catalan political system: the Catalan Indepentista party has been planning to vote in a referendum so that it can declare independence from Spain. But when the vote was scheduled to happen on Sunday, catastrophe.

To really understand the situation we have to know a little bit about the political history of Spain. After World War II, Spain was quietly left under a fascist dictatorship until 1975, when Franco died. Many middle-aged Spaniards can still remember what it is like to live in a place where people just disappear. To be left in an unmarked grave somewhere.

Catalonia suffered terribly under Franco’s regime, and even after Franco’s son began the transition to democracy immediately following Franco’s death, there’s still a lot of bad blood between Spaniards from Madrid and Barcelonans.

If you think racism is a problem in America, you need to see how Barcelonans treat Madrilenos and hear how Madrilenos talk about Barcelonans. That is racism. They hate each other.

Anyway, on Sunday I had already been receiving messages and instructions from friends in America and locals around the city. It was common knowledge that boats of military police from Madrid were waiting off the coast, and that if (when) they came into the city their point of entry would be about two blocks from my apartment building. So on Sunday I stayed home.

Little blog of mine, when the Catalans tried to have their unconstitutional, illegal vote, the Madrid police came in and beat the sh%t out of them. My opinion on the vote was suddenly irrelevant: I realized that the rights I take for granted, peaceful assembly, free speech, due process of law, a speedy and public trial, are not enshrined here like they are in America.

I studied economics at Hillsdale College, but even though I’ve walked around for the last five years or so holding the mental banners of, “taxation is theft” and “the law is force” and “restrain the coercive power of the state”, as of today I have a perspective on those ideas that’s real in a way I never before understood.

What I’ve always been told, that I can’t make my government my god and expect it to care for me, is totally true. What Bastiat said is right: government is force. It’s just coercion, and when it’s unbridled, it is an ugly and dangerous thing.

Thank God the Word says that Jesus is coming back! And then it will all be set right. I’m so thankful for that. In the meantime, I trust God to protect me. And I am safe, little blog. I praise God for it.

And I got a job yesterday!

The details of my job are still being worked out a little bit, but basically I’m starting as a tour guide for a local company next week. My new boss seems excellent and I am already spending pleasurable hours in the library planning my tour of the Barri Gotic.

Also, this guy comes in two and a half weeks: