ALL THE WAY UP

'So, are you going to make any trips?' That was the usual question in my classes and my usual answer was: 'No, why would I?' This generally resulted in some very surprised faces. To be fair, this question was mostly asked by my American classmates who travelled to a different country every single weekend. I understood why, but for me it felt a bit excessive. Why would I go anywhere when I was living in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe? I wanted to make the most of my time here, but this resulted in me only leaving the city three times in almost five months. So when my teacher asked us on the last day of classes what we had seen of Spain, I suddenly realized that I had, in fact, not really seen anything.
To fix this problem, we rented a car and made a short road trip to Montserrat. Slightly unprepared, we hiked up the mountain to be able to enjoy one of the best (the Table Mountain in Capetown was still number one) views I've seen in my life. So, there I stood. On a mountain looking over Spain with people I had met just that day, but who already felt like friends. And there I realized that this was a perfect summary of my time here. An amazing country, spontaneous experiences and lot and lots of really great people.

THE ART OF REDISCOVERING

It's been three and a half months since I came here. I've come from getting lost everywhere I go to now giving directions (quite unsuccessfully may I add) to other clueless souls. A lot can change in such a short time. When you first arrive in a new city you're in awe with anything and everything it has to offer. You marvel at the buildings and you admire the people speaking in their foreign language. But after a while you start to know the place, and everything starts to lose its magic a little bit. Las Ramblas is just a street you cross everyday on your way to school (and in all honesty, a place which, when you live here, you much rather avoid) and slowly but surely you understand what the people are saying - turns out they weren't all declaring their love for each other. You start looking at the tourists with their cameras and you have no idea what it is they are seeing.
So, this weekend I decided to give myself a wake up-call. I took my camera, I stepped out of the house and - just as in the early days - aimlessly walked around. Allowing myself to really look at everything: appreciate the tiny alleyways, wonder whose laundry is hanging to dry (even though it's the middle of November) and smile at the Catalans displaying their independence flags. And when I came home at the end of the day I had learned how truly important living in the moment is. Because before I know it, I'll be back in cold and rainy Holland, wishing I could step out the door and see all of this again.

HOW TO CURE A HANGOVER

The Spanish love going out. Specifically, they love going out all night long. Mornings aren't made for them. They rather spend their days at home, waking up slowly and taking it easy. But, as soon as the sun starts setting, that's when they feel most alive. They go out for endless dinners (at 23.00 or later) and after they are done, they get ready to party. And when you start your night late, you continue until the early morning. So, as you can imagine I had to slightly get used to that. Coming home at eight in the morning in the weekends can get quite exhausting. All I want to do is sleep all day and stay in, but when you are friends with Americans who are in love with everything Europe, that just won't happen. So there I was, with only an hour of sleep, ready at the bus station to travel up north. To Tossa de Mar to be exact. Past the touristy Lloret de Mar and through the mountains, I slowly started to forget how tired I was. And when we arrived in the tiny town, and walked up into the hills, I felt one hundred percent awake (or at least, until the busride back).

THE COUNTRY NO ONE HAS EVERY HEARD OF

I've never been really patriotic. Sure, I love my country and during King's Day and the World Cup I'll be the first one to scream I am Dutch, but I've never felt particularly at home in Holland. Yet, here surrounded by people from all over the world, I have slowly developed a pride for everything Dutch. And the main reason for that is: it seems that no one knows The Netherlands exists. I mean, this is no joke. Every time someone asks me where I am from, I go through the same routine. "Where are you from?" "The Netherlands" "What?" "The Netherlands. You know, Holland?" *Very confused facial expression* "Amsterdam?" "Ooooh Amsterdam! Yes I know Amsterdam! Are you from there?"
It is almost offending really. Especially the time an American girl asked me where in Denmark I was from after she heard I spoke Dutch. Or the guy (another American) asked me if Holland was next to The Netherlands and Germany. Even my Spanish teacher skips The Netherlands when she asks us about our countries.
Clearly, we are not as important as we think we are. But I don't care anymore that no one knows our country. Because while I'm typing this, munching on some chocolate pepernoten (thank God for the HEMA), I appreciate the land I was born in, a whole lot more.

THE MAGIC OF THE SAINT

While I was sad that it was raining during Fiesta de la Mercè, the Catalans were celebrating. "It rains every year during the festival", my roommate explained. "The Catalans believe the raindrops are the tears of the saint. She cries because the summer is over." In Holland we would have laughed at such a statement. But here, in a city with so much history and culture, it sounds like a reasonable explanation.
La Mercè - also known as the Virgin of Grace - has been honoured here since the Middle Ages. When the city was plagued with insects, the citizens asked the virgin for help. When she turned out to be successful, she was named the protector of the city.
The virgin stands for compassion, service and loving mercy. And that's what you see all around you when you walk around during the festival. The people of Barcelona go out and celebrate their culture and their history. They are proud of the land they live in. And when I am sipping typical Catalan cava with my roommates I feel a little bit proud too.