Catalan Christmas

**Small disclaimer here: our pictures from Christmas are horrendous.  Our good camera lens broke a couple months back, which totally took the fun out of taking pictures for a while.  We were forced to use our old one point nothing megapixel camera from 1991 until we finally purchased a new lens a few weeks after Christmas before our trip to the UK.  What we have here is a pieced together mishmash of broken lens pictures, old crappy camera pictures, and iphone pictures.  Poorly documented in my opinion.

Anywho.

Christmas time in Catalunya.

After powering through Thanksgiving, determined to keep traditions alive and managing to enjoy the holiday as a family so far from home, it was hard to remain quite as inspired for Christmas. This time of year usually involves Christmas parties, visiting family, and hosting our parents for prosecco and hors d'oeuvres on Christmas Eve....and the ever enjoyable "whose family do we see when and where" conversations, last minute shopping panics, and snow to shovel.   Good or bad, there wasn't any of these things this year.   Our lives will continue to be a balancing act of accepting the loss of some traditions, people, and places, while embracing new experiences and the positive changes that come with living in a new place.  I will say, it was especially nice not to be surrounded by the consumer crazed mania.   In Barcelona, the majority of residents hold off on exchanging gifts until they celebrate Three Kings, the first week in January, and even this holiday does not carry that same panic driven spending craze, also known as "Christmas in the USA". The malls were no more crowded the week before Christmas, that I could tell, and there wasn't the advertising explosion reminding us that time is running out, and we need to buy, buy, buy. That, I must say, was nice. But we missed our family something fierce. I wished our parents and siblings could have seen the excitement on Evan's face when we talked about Santa coming...It was truly magical to live this experience through their eyes this year, and probably one of my favorite parts of Christmas this year.  But, fear not, we have video.

 

 

Our attempt at a candy sugar house this year...note the missing pieces off the roof.  Ahem...CHRIS.

New boots.  New easel.  Psyched.

Some of my favorite things about Christmas this year in Barcelona:

The Christmas Market

Europe is known for the Christmas Markets. Some countries and cities do it better than others, but most cities do have some version of a Christmas Market to visit.  The markets usually involve a tented exposition of Christmas ornaments, mangers, trees, wreathes, food, drinks, handmade crafts and gifts, etc.

 Our plan initially was to travel to Bavaria, Germany this year to spend some time in Munich and drive the Romantic Road to see the castles and markets in this region.  However, time got away from us, and alas...you can't do it all. So we postponed the trip until next year (must do), and decided to focus on what Barcelona had to offer this year. And while the Christmas Market here is not necessary the most impressive in Europe, visiting the market was still a very festive, and wonderful, way to spend a few afternoons. We browsed the decorations, picked out a new ornament to remind us of our first Christmas here in Barcelona, and also bought a star tree topper.

 

 

Simplified Decorating

 

My family will tell you I am a minimalist decorator to begin with – I have an unnatural fear of clutter, and keeping decorations around simply to be used for 3 weeks out of the year...well...not my favorite.   Also taking into consideration that we are kind of missing our basement at the moment, and the only outdoor storage space is currently housing our washer and dryer -- clearly our limited collection of Santa and nutcracker knick-knacks did not make the travel-overseas cut.  And I have to say, decorating for Christmas this year was kinda nice.   Not something I would like every year...I DO actually really enjoy the whole opening up the ornament bin and going through each one and remembering where we got them.  I'm not that much of a decorating Grinch, but I appreciated the no-muss no-fussiness of this year.  We bought a tiny little 3 foot tree (potted no less – no death, no needles, and we can keep it outside until next year!), one box of plain 'ol shiny ball ornaments, a few strings of lights for the stair banister and tree, and a poinsettia plant. Voila! Christmas. 

 

Living in Poblenou – AKA Sesame Street

"The Inner Circle" we call them.  The wine shop owner, the boutique owner and his partner, the pink haired girl who works at the photo shop, and the furniture store owner pretty much run this street.  They are behind all the festivals, organize all the holiday parades and events, and pretty much keep our street the most hoppin' place in Poblenou.  This year?  Totally broke into the inner circle.  OK...not quite.  We are now on a "stop and say hello" basis with a handful of residents and shopkeepers here, which is kind of a feat in this old school Catalan neighborhood.  Not to generalize, but it can be kind of a tough crowd for foreigners.  Regardless, after one year of living here, it was pretty cool to feel like we were part of the 'hood for this holiday.  For once, we weren't on the outskirts of the festivities taking pictures and keeping to ourselves.  People recognized us, ran over to dance with our children, and made sure to get them a balloons right away.

This year, they set up a little Christmas village, right outside our door in the plaza. Literally, about 50 feet from our front step, there sat Santa (or Papa Noel as they call him), handing out balloons and lollipops to all the children. Two weeks later, they had one of the Three Wise Men, I believe, celebrating Three Kings, doing the same thing.  There was a Three Kings parade that wound its way through the streets, down the main drag, Rambla Del Poblenou, completely made up of floats carrying children throwing candy to all the other children waiting the streets.  I need better photos of this whole celebration next year...

 



We hope everyone at home at a wonderful holiday season...we love and miss you all!

Putting it Out There - Have to Start Somewhere

I've been neglecting my blog.

The one place that will hold our memories, experiences, thoughts, plans, reactions, fortunes and misfortunes...has been left sad and lonely for weeks.  I intended to start this blog so I could remember this short and life-changing experience from beginning to end, and to stay connected with friends and family back home.  Yet, as the weeks fall by, and important moments like our first Christmas, New Years Eve, and Three Kings drift further and further behind me... suddenly this blog is feeling more like a term paper I just don't want to start. 

My blog entries were sparse when we first arrived because I was so overwhelmed with life I had no brain power or time to write at the end of the day when the kids were finally in bed.  Now I am faced with a whole new roadblock -- peace and normalcy have resumed, but (my perception of) the magnitude of our experiences, both sensory and emotional, have been such that it is intimidating for me to attempt to capture it in writing.  If I can't capture what we are seeing and feeling in exactly the right way, or invoke the same feelings in print as it was experienced, then what's the point, really.  I write.  I re-read.  I revise.  I edit, and write some more.  It doesn't feel right unless it looks the way I envisioned it would look when I set out writing.  I am a perfectionist with no patience.  And so... I watch Top Chef. 

This all ends here. 

 

We are coming up on our one year anniversary here in Spain, and my belated new years resolution is to write at least every few days.  It won't be perfect.  It won't always be an exact representation of our thoughts or adventures, but at least it will be out there.  Our memories captured.  I don't want to just look at pictures in 10 years and think...where did those two years go?   What was our day to day life in Spain like?  Like our wedding day.  I wish someone had told me to wake up the next morning, and write down everything I could remember from the day before, because really -- you don't remember much from your wedding day.  I would kill to know what every hour of that day was like.  And so, I want to remember this.  Because what is happening right now is significant in our lives.  I feel that.

In the week ahead, I have some catching up to do, but my hope is that eventually this blog will become more of a weekly journal into our journey here, rather than random chapters of a book. 

Here's hoping anyway. 

In the spirit of a more "in the moment" attitude, here are some pictures from today.  Rocking the new watercolor set from Christmas, and new smocks!

I don't know why I bother giving them paper...really, they just want to paint their faces.

See you in a few days.

Food

The food issue.

This is beyond June Cleaver of me, and perhaps a little cliche, but I actually really liked going to the grocery store at home in the US.  Free samples, a place that housed everything I needed...choices.  I was a Trader Joe's and Whole Foods junkie, loving all the healthy choices, and more importantly, loving the fact that 70% of what I was buying was already at least semi-prepared (by Spanish standards).  Seemingly guilt-free kid food like turkey hot dogs, free-range chicken nuggets, yo baby, bunny crackers, frozen waffles, GALLONS of milk and OJ.  The Applegate company?  My savior.  My kids would eat it, it was quick, and, for the most part, was pretty healthy as long as I tossed some fruit and veggies on the plate too.  Yeah, of course, there were Happy Meals, lollipops, and cupcakes too -- but for me it was (and still is) about balance: mostly good, so I didn't feel guilty about the treats and junk that were inevitable.  And if I could quickly assemble a decent toddler meal for my kids in less than 10 minutes, that was paramount. 

It was kind of a rude awakening when we got here in Spain.

A couple things about the food.

OK, let me give my small print disclaimer here: you can likely find anything you are looking for somewhere in the city. Different grocery stores have different stuff, and there are a few huge departments stores with international grocery sections, along with American specialty shops, that have a lot of stuff like prepared soups, sauces, etc. However, on a day to day basis, when you don't want to travel across the city for salad dressing, this is my reality here in Poblenou.

The grocery stores, in general, do not sell a lot of prepared foods -- and if they do -- there is usually just one or two options for that kind of food.  One brand and style of hummus.  One sour cream.  One butter.  And by prepared foods, I don't mean those lovely salad bars and displays of ready-to-eat dinners.  I mean things like canned soup, pancake mix, spaghetti sauce, rice pilaf, dessert mixes -- they don't exist.  And if they do, they aren't what you expect them to be.  My grocery store is 80% whole foods (ironic play on words here).  Bread, meat, cheese, beans, pasta, veggies, fish, oils...yet, oddly enough, there IS  an entire aisle dedicated to potato chips.  This could explain my new found obsession with Pringles.  Regardless, most of the prepared stuff is cookies, crackers, pastries, and pickled stuff.  The frozen prepared foods usually require frying, and aren't terribly healthy or appetizing.   

This used to be kind of a big deal for me.  I can remember the first week we were here, I had absolutely no idea what to cook.  I was all turned around.  I didn't know what kind of meats were at the grocery store, I was scared of the produce section because you had to weigh and label your own fruits and veggies, and I couldn't find half of what I needed because things are never where you expect to find them.  The cream is shelf stable and located over by the pasta.  The eggs are room temperature at the end of the meat aisle.  The tuna is in the cheese aisle.  There was a stretch of time when our meals consisted of bread and cheese, because that was all I was capable of figuring out. 

As a result, we've had to make a few changes around here...

1.  If I want to eat something (and have it taste the way I want), I have to make it myself -- from scratch.  Don't get me wrong, I love to cook, but this is a whole other level.  Because there are practically no places for take-out (aside from the rotisserie chicken joints, which are amazing and our Sunday afternoon ritual), and very few prepared foods in the supermarket, I am making everything we eat from scratch most days.  Feeling like salsa?  Better find me some tomatoes and cilantro.  In the mood for chicken soup?  Better get myself a whole chicken and start boiling.  So many foods I would have just bought ready made, I now cook from scratch-- chicken nuggets, rice pilaf, mac & cheese, pancakes, salsa, dip, spaghetti sauce, soup, muffins, salad dressing, etc.  All me.  And over the past year, this has gone from annoying...to kind of challenging...to no big deal...to my preferred way of doing things.  As long as I have a pantry stocked with 10 or so staples, all I need to do is swing by the butcher to grab a protein, and I'm set for dinner.

2.  Our children no longer eat "kid food" for dinner.  In fact, they rarely eat it at all.  They eat whatever we eat, because it takes enough effort just to make one dinner, there's no possible way I'm going to make two.  They get a smaller plate of whatever I made for Chris and I.  Do they always eat it?  Nope.  Mia has always been my rock star eater and will eat pretty much anything, but Evan is ultra picky so this has been a challenge for him.  There are days I definitely gear it more towards stuff I know they prefer -- making my version of chicken nuggets or spaghetti and meatballs, but gone are the days of a separate kiddie dinner 7 days a week.  Remarkably, as a result, not only are they now eating a much wider variety of foods, but Evan in particular has stopped whining for specific foods when he doesn't like what is in front of him.  They know dinner is dinner.

3.  Our grocery bill is about 1/3 of what it was in the US.  Produce is cheap, cheap, cheap here, in comparison to the US, and the whole foods like sacks of rice, flour, and eggs aren't racking up a big bill.  I love that you always know what is in season, because it is offered very cheaply in bulk.  I know my food is fresh and local, and I can get a whole cart full of fruit and veggies for less than $20.  Plus, since we have a small fridge, I can only buy for 2 or 3 days at a time, and we generally almost always eat all the food before it goes bad.  What a concept. 

4.  I dig Mom and Pop shops.  The traipsing around to 4 different stores for stuff used to drive me nuts.  But I'm loving it now...the shop keepers know their stuff, and it kind of makes you feel like everyday is a special occasion, because they treat the products with such pride and care.  Seriously, I know this sounds odd...but there is something to be said for a chicken specialty shop that starts with a whole chicken (head included), and expertly butchers it in front of you in order to get you your kilo of ground chicken breast.  For a while I used to avoid going to the same shops too often because I was afraid if they saw me too regularly, we would get beyond the "Hello, how are you?" phrases, and they would start asking more questions about myself (in Spanish) forcing me to stumble through and make an ass of myself.  Pathetic, I know.  I'm starting to get over this...maybe because my Spanish is improving, but mostly because I really like my Mom and Pops.  We pretty much live on Sesame Street -- everyone knows everyone, and it is very child focused -- so the fact that they wave at us across the street and give my children free fuet (tiny cured little sausage type things here --I have no idea what is in them, or what is used as the "casing", nor do I want to know, but my children love them) when we come in, makes me want to keep coming back.  It appears they are slowing chipping away at my shy little introverted exterior...

Anyway, I am sure when we get home to the US, I'm going to happily embrace Eggo waffles, Rao's Marinara Sauce, and Goldfish once more (my sister recently sent us a care package for XMAS that included Goldfish...they were gone in less than 10 minutes.  SO.  GOOD.) But I'm thankful for the eye opening experience here that has actually made me a better cook and helped me realize that not only is it easy to make things yourself, it often tastes better and is much better for you.   

Some of my "keeper" base recipes that will save you big $$$ in case anyone is interested:

Basic White Sauce

*  This sauce has been a life saver for me.  It can take the place of Cream of Chicken Soup for a lot of recipes (if you add some poultry seasoning to it), and is so easy to make.  I add Parmesan cheese to this for an Alfredo sauce, a cheddar blend for Mac & Cheese sauce, or curry powder for a Chicken Divan type of dish.  Good stuff, and always have the ingredients in the pantry.

3 tablespoons of butter
3 tablespoons of flour
1 cup of chicken stock
1 cup of milk
salt and pepper

Melt butter in medium pot.  Once melted, add flour and whisk together.  Cook for 1 minute over low/med heat.  Add stock and milk, and raise heat while whisking constantly.  Keep whisking while bringing to a boil, then reduce heat to simmer for 5-10 minute until it thickens. 

 Rice Pilaf

* I used to buy the Near East boxes religiously at home in the US for almost $2 a box.  Turns out -- no need.  If you buy a sack of rice and a sack of orzo, you can have pilaf for a month for $2.  It is easy.

1 tablespoon butter
1-2 tablespoons of orzo pasta
1 cup of rice
2 cups of chicken broth

Melt butter in sauce pan, add orzo.  Saute orzo over med heat until it starts to brown, then add rice and chicken broth.  Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to low, and simmer for 20 minutes or until rice is done according to rice directions.

My favorite pancake recipe (easy and so good):   PANCAKES

My favorite chicken soup recipe (Ina is a genius): CHICKEN SOUP

Enjoy!
 

Creating Holiday Memories

In the past, major holidays used to invoke this uneasy feeling inside me.  It was that expectation something grand or exceptional must take place.  That, somehow, my traditions might not live up to the expectation of what the holidays were intended to be or what others around me were experiencing.

Then you grow up a bit, and realize life is not a Folger's commercial. The rest of the world is not in holiday ecstasy living a picture perfect holiday, nor is that even important.  Holidays are, in fact, very personal.  Not so much something that is happening to you, but rather, an empty jar ready to be filled with whatever you like.  A successful holiday for me, now, is dependant only on embracing the positives, creating the memories I hold close to my heart, and finding fulfillment and meaning in those precious moments when they happen.

The beauty is, I've realized so much of what I love and desire about the holidays is really just a result of making the conscious decision to live it.  To create it.  There's no other magic to it.  And really, isn't that what we all look forward to as we start our own families?  Embracing what we loved about our childhood, carrying on those traditions, and adding the things we as adults want to incorporate for the next generation.

Holiday time in Barcelona has been a brillant exercise in exactly this.  Thanksgiving morning I did have a few tears as I thought about my family -- it was always a day filled with happy memories as a child, a day our family loved in particular.  I missed my family this year, and it stung.  But, after a long hug from Chris, I decided to create the day I hoped to have.  A house smelling of turkey, sage, and butter.  A table set with the good dishes.  Candles lit.  Homemade desserts in the oven.  A drink in my hand. :)  And as I went about the day, creating the scene, the good feelings took over and I began to reflect on what it all really meant.  I especially appreciated that, while here in Barcelona, I am seeing this amazing holiday from afar and can appreciate its beauty at arm's length.  A whole new perspective.

Our actual Thanksgiving day was a quiet one, the four of us sitting around the table, talking about what it means to be thankful with the children.  We ate our turkey cutlet dinner, pausing to smile at each other and appreciate the moment....laughing at Mia's ice-cream mustache (and Chris' real one), and lingering at the table long after dinner was over, as Chris and I finished our bottle of wine and ignored the chaos of two toddlers on a sugar high.  It wasn't fancy, but was everything I wanted that day to be.  We were together as a family. 

 

That mustache...

 

The holiday extended into the weekend, as fellow American friends gathered together on Saturday for a large, more traditional day of feasting, laughing, drinking, and acknowledging a shared gratitude for life's incredible blessings.  A day hosted by some ex-pat friends, 3 years deep into life abroad, opening their home and doing what they do best -- offering friendship and support, celebrating this life abroad, and reminding us what it means to be part of a larger family.  Because, here -- this little community -- we are family.  In every sense of the word.  And it felt good to merge that new concept of family with an old tradition, miles away from the familiar faces we left behind.  It felt like we were exercising our emotional muscles, creating new relationships, finding the beauty, and making memories. 

Happy Holidays to all. 

Cheers XO

New Addition

Well, we fought the good fight, I think.  We came, we embraced, we sat idly by with infinite patience.  But, after 10 months, we have decided to expand our family...we are, once again, with dryer.  And is it pure heaven.

The new addition :)  She lives outside with her sister the washing machine, and brother the freezer. 

During the summer, I had no problems with drying our clothes hanging outside.  We got direct sun in the back yard starting in May, so a load of clothes would dry in the hot 90+ degree sun in the time it took for the next wash load to be done -- almost faster than an actual dryer would dry them.  I loved how the sun bleached the whites naturally, and the way the clothes smelled drying outside.  It really wasn't an issue...then October hit. 

The sun in back dissapeared, and I was left outside beside our perpetually sad, damp laundry, staring longingly up at the neighboring building behind us as their laundry flapped in wind and direct sun, almost mocking me with its vigor ...it's funny the things you start to envy.  It used to be nicely decorated houses with fancy seasonal hurricane glass displays.... now all I really want is sunlight and a stiff breeze.   For the past two months it has taken a solid 3 days to dry our clothes after they are washed.  And I use the term "dry" loosely, because they are never really dry.  Slightly damp at best.  And when I was having to plan my outfit 5 days in advance, and blow drying my children's pants in the morning while the laundry piled up to the ceiling, I finally had to pull the plug..or plug in the plug as it may be.  We bought an electric dryer.

Purchase day was actually kind of humorous.  We were like starving beasts in a room full of fresh meat.  As the very nice saleswoman tried to explain which of the units were the most energy efficient (clearly the top priority, as it should be for everyone, here in Spain) we couldn't be bothered.  After close to a year of living the earth friendly "no dryer" life, we really only cared about getting our clothes good and dry as fast as possible...

"Yeah yeah...energy efficient, we get it.  Which unit will scorch the living daylights out of our clothes in record time?" 

I kid. :)

That first load was like Christmas morning.  I held the hot, DRY clothes close, marveling that in just two hours, the clothes went from dirty to clean and dry.  Modern day miracle. 

I shall never take my dryer for granted again.  And while I will enjoy me some energy sucking laundering this winter, come May, I know we will resume our Earth friendly metal rack drying.  Until then, I am happily folding clean dry clothes inside, looking out the window at as it rains.  Ah, it is a good day indeed. 

Roaming Rome

The "Girls Trip".  

I can't remember a recent time back in the US when my girlfriends and I decided to pick up and take off for a two or three day trip somewhere alone.  Obviously, there are many reasons for this, the most obvious being that many of my close friends live so far away, the travel is mostly to get TO one another, not so much to see a new destination or have some much needed "girls-only" time away.  Add to this new babies, jobs, and hectic schedules to juggle, and it is clear why making these kinds of little getaways happen can be close to impossible while home in the US.  It seems it would take us weeks to plan just a dinner! (This needs to change!)

Here, we have a few things on our side...a simplified schedule, no little babies in the mix, close proximity to one another, and cheap travel!  In 90 minutes, and only 40€ for the flight (a measly 14€ each way minus the fees...seriously, we are taking the price for lunch!) we were in Italy.  Amazing.

With my rockstar husband happy hold down the fort so I can use this time to explore and recharge,  I headed out on a little mini-vacation with two new friends to Rome, Italy.

Looking down at the city from the top of the Spanish Steps

Rome was filled with several of those "I can't believe I'm here" moments...art and history books materializing at every turn, making it an almost impossible task to fully take in where I was and what I was seeing at any given moment.  Yet, there we were...standing inside the Sistine Chapel, staring up at that stunning ceiling...watching the Pope himself as he spoke to a crowd of thousands outside St. Peter's Basilica...wandering inside the Colosseum, looking down at the intricate paths once used by Gladiators.  Grateful, is the word the comes to mind, every time I think about this trip.  Grateful for the opportunity.

The Pantheon

The Colosseum

 

Fontana di Trevi

Inside The Colosseum

Julie and Chris mid audio-tour inside Colosseum

Inside The Colosseum

View of the Forum/Ruins from inside The Colosseum

My friends had both seen Rome previously, but thankfully they were more than happy to return.  As Chris put it, "I don't think it's possible to get Rome'd out."  Having now seen it myself, I must say, I couldn't agree with her more.

And so it began, as we walked and talked our way across the city -- impressively, not using any form of transportation, besides our own two feet, the entire three days we were there.  The walking was what I would classify as hardcore.  We are talking 8 hours of walking per day, with the first day starting at 3am to make a 6am flight, followed by a full day of walking/sightseeing and ending after dinner at 10pm.  However, it was well worth the small amount of physical pain, and it certainly made the incredible pasta, pizza, and gelato well earned and all that much more enjoyable. 

The plan was to see as much as we could, without too much advanced planning or sense of urgency.  This trip was about enjoying each other's company and just experiencing a change of pace as much as it was about sightseeing.  And so, walking and museums were punctuated with glasses of wine out in front of the Colosseum.  Lunches were long, and if we got lost, we sat by the side of the road, snapped a few pictures, and eventually found our way to the right path.  No big thing. 

View of St. Peter's Basilica looking down the Tiber River

Cause they can.  :)  This one is for my Mom.

The Pope out in front of St. Peter's 

Pope on TV

Vatican City Baby!

Inside the Vatican Museum

St. Peter's Basilica

Inside the Vatican Museum

Trastevere -- quaint little neighborhood, more locals less tourists

Julie and Chris contemplating life a top the Spanish steps :)

Trastevere

Pantheon at night

Our delicious "snack dinner" of local wine, salami, and cheese

Inside the Forum

Inside the Forum

Gelato!

The week wrapped up, and before I knew it, we were sitting on the floor of the dodgy Ciampino Airport, once again taking part in the Ryanair cattle call.  Sigh...

A fantastic three days, filled with great conversation and company.  I was happy to come home to hugs and lovin' from my favorite faces here in Barcelona, but already looking forward to our next adventure together.  Until next time ladies!


No Mail for You

There are many more important, meaningful things to write about right now...my trip to Rome, future planning, the upcoming holidays...

But, I need to share this.

Let me start by saying that there are many parts of Spainish life that are well organized, and logical.  For starters, the city is immaculate -- a fact that is made more evident the more I travel around Europe.  The city workers are out all day, every day, clearing the streets and parks of trash, washing roads, trimming trees, repairing and repaving sidewalks...hell, I even saw one guy yesterday meticulously replacing tiny tiles on a decorative mosaic sculpture at one of the parks down by the ocean.  And no...this was not a tourist site, or famous sculpture...just another sculpture with a little tile missing.  Decorative sculptures and structures are everywhere.  I kid you not.  This city is an artistic masterpiece, just gorgeous. 

The holidays come around, and, on cue, the city's decorations go up.  As we speak, neighborhoods throughout Barcelona are systematically being strung with lights and festive illuminated images.  Barcelona parties hard, after every city-wide fiesta and/or parade (which there are many...usually involving explosives) there is inevitably an army of cleaning trucks and workers, blasting through the mess with water, and sweeping up the debauchery leaving Barcelona the gleaming beauty she is, once again. 

And the cabs?  Amazing.  Just amazing.  Not only are they all marked exactly the same as yellow and black Priuses, they are plentiful and pretty much always spotless inside and out.  Unlike in the US, the driver isn't on his cell phone screaming in another language while simultaneously smoking and ripping you off.  Here the drivers are professionals -- always well dressed and groomed, they look like your uncle and are usually very friendly and willing to let you practice your sad Spanish skills with them.  At the airport they are lined up, and because there is only one taxi service and they do not receive tips, there is no one soliciting or trying to drag you away to their own service.  You just walk to the stand, let the guy know how many people/bags, and they point to the next available taxi.  NO other city I have traveled to has an airport taxi system quite like it.  It is heaven.  Is it possible the taxi driver will take you on a tour of the city if you clearly don't know where you are going to jack up the price?  Yes.  But I haven't had an issue with this yet.

While we are on the subject -- the public transportation also kicks ass.  I can firmly say that Barcelona is probably one of the most child friendly cities in the world.  Now that I'm savvy enough to understand and use the bus system, I'm obsessed.  The buses, also spotless, go EVERYWHERE, and are absolutely huge inside, room enough for 2 or 3 strollers to be wheeled right on.  Plus there is a tram system, also huge and big enough for strollers, and I think something like 80% of the subways have elevators (Poblenou, my stop, unfortunately does not). 

Now, on to the postal system.

Mail here, in my humble opinion, is kind of a joke.  Ain't nothing gettin' in...and today I've realized, ain't nothin' getting out, either.

Let's take it back to April, when my sister kindly tried to send us two care packages to our home address.  I had already received a package at our house previously, so I had no idea that having mail sent to a residential address can sometimes not work out so well.  When the weeks ticked by, and the packages still had not arrived, I checked the tracking online to find that both packages were in Madrid, stuck in customs.  "Great!"  I thought.  They are in Spain!  It will probably just be a couple days before they are released, and I'll have my stuff.

Yeah, no.

I won't bore you with the details, but what followed was a hair pulling charade of faxing, emailing, re-faxing, emailing, and playing cat and mouse with Spanish customs office over what seems to me to be an obnoxious amount of paperwork in order to have two small boxes of stuff delivered.  I would give them what they want, they would email a week later asking me to fax it again.  I would give them what they want, and they would email saying they had nothing.  I would give them what they want, and then they finally informed me IN JULY (this went on for three full months) that my stuff was on its way back to the United States.  Sigh.

After that debacle, I wised up.  If anything needed to be sent to us, it needed to be sent to Chris's work where professional Spanish speakers at his company can deal with customs issues should they arise. 

Since that time, we've had a few successful deliveries -- however, my mother recently mailed a birthday present to Mia, paying extra to have it delivered on time for her birthday (October 21st), and it still isn't here.  We got the dreaded customs "notice" in the mail a few weeks ago, faxed what they needed immediately...and guess what...we still haven't received her gift.  I'll bet you all the money in Spain that if I called them today, they'd ask me to fax exactly what we already faxed to them in order to get our stuff.  I would love to see that fax machine in the customs office.  I picture a lone fax machine, in an empty room, overflowing with paperwork sent by all the poor foreign schmucks like myself.

So basically, if stuff is sent here, about 50% makes it past customs unscathed.  The rest is caught in the web, and so far, we haven't been successful in getting it out of customs when it does get caught. 

OK, OK.  Can't win them all.  So I can't count on shipping here in Spain.  I can roll with it. 

But today I attempted to do my first mailing OUT of Spain.  And it was priceless. 

So, I had ordered some new glasses online from a great American website Warby Parker.  Somehow, I knew trying to order prescription glasses here in Spain would end up being more work than it was worth, and Warby Parker has fab glasses, amazingly good prices, and does all the work for you in terms of finding out your current prescription.  To me, it made sense to order them online, have them sent to my mother in law Judie, and have Judie ship them to me here. 

Well, the Spain Mail Gods were good to me, and we got the packages Judie so nicely sent us -- nothing caught in customs!!!!  Hooray!!!  Except, the glasses did not fit the way I hoped, and decided to call Warby to see if I could exchange -- which they were totally cool with.  Not only were they cool with it, they immediately mailed different pair, and told me just to ship the glasses I had back as soon as I could. 

Hmmm...I hadn't mailed anything from Spain yet.  It has been, what, 9 months?  The post office here isn't my favorite place, for obvious reasons.  They really, really don't like to speak English, even if they are able, and there is usually a line of angry people (just like in the US) behind me who aren't super excited that I'm stumbling along in my broken Spanish holding everything up.  So I avoid that place like the plague.  I had passed a Mailboxes, Etc. many times here in Poblenou, and always made a mental note that it was there.  We had one back in Rowley, that I loved -- they used UPS, and it was always so easy to just pop in, drop off what I needed to have mailed, and run out. 

So, today, I headed over there to the Mailboxes, Etc. to send my tiny little 1oz. glasses box back to New York, NY.  Now, I had just received an email yesterday from Judie saying the new glasses were on their way to Barcelona by way of USPS, they cost just $11 to ship. 

I could tell immediately when I walked in, this isn't like the Mailboxes, Etc. in the US.  Now, from what I understand, the only way to ship internationally to the US is through UPS or FedEx -- and this place uses UPS.  First off, there are no prices listed anywhere like they are in most UPS or FedEx stores.  I was handed off to what appeared to be the owner, and he informed me he had to take the destination address "in back" and do some figuring to find out the best price for me.  Ok....

After filling out the UPS form, showing him my minuscule glasses box, and waiting 10 minutes for him to write down three figures on a piece of paper, he comes back with a series of prices.  All between 90 - 110 euros (around $125).  Mind you, the glasses I'm sending back are $95.  I kind of smile, and explain that what I'm mailing back is not worth the cost of shipping, and I can't pay that much for shipping. 

I'm ready to get my box and leave, when he comes back with:

"What about 85 euros?  That's as low as I can go..."

Um, since when is postage negotiable?  I get the fact that I'm in a private company offering shipping services, but seriously? 

I'm kind of taken off guard, and everyone in the place is staring at me at this point...

"Um, no thank you.  I really, really appreciate you taking the time to find options for me, but the cost is way too high.  It costs $11 to ship this exact box from the US to Barcelona."

He THEN comes back with:

"Ok, Ok.  I have another company that does shipping.  I could ship it through them for 60 euros.  How about that?"

I felt like I was at a Toyota dealership, and this guy was trying to sell me a new Camry.  We are talking about postage here people.

I, again, politely declined, and asked for my box back...and get out of there, and everyone in the place seemed shocked and somewhat pissed I wasn't going to ship it with them. 

Where are we?  Antarctica?  How could it cost over $100 to send a little box to NYC? 

I fully get that there is likely a cheaper option, and I am being scammed...but I guess postage is one of those things that I assume isn't gouged too much -- you pay for speed or weight, but generally don't expect an owner to adjust the price depending on how naive you might be. 

I am now faced with the task of finding some Vistaprinters traveling back to the US soon to smuggle this to the US for me, or braving Correos, the local post office, to see if they are a little more fair and honest.  Sheeesh. 

And thus is the story of the hustlin' postal man.