Setmana vúit: Conmovida
¡Hola a todos y todas! Delia Bousquet aquí, lista para compartir las aventuras de la semana.
I come to you live this viernes afternoon from the couch of the abandoned casa, chomping on some very saludable M&M’s. What can I say? I needed to break a 50, and someone told me the M&M’s were different here. Spoiler: they’re not!
But there is no better time to write than when you’re alone and have nothing to do. I’ve been abandoned for the weekend by the host family because they are going to the vacation apartment for el finde. It’s really been an odd week, because the dad and son have been up there all week, and it’s just been me and the mom in the house. She’s been out super late every night rehearsing for her theater show next week… so it’s been a lot of tupers (Tupperware) for me… but hey, better than that time they didn’t feed me.
I know I keep saying this, but wow — it’s been a busy week. As promised, the blog came out late this week due to some school commitments (cough cough the 10-page paper and final exam), but it’s finally all over! I’m free!
Well… until Thursday, when I start class again.
But technically, I can fail the next class because it doesn’t transfer to Princeton, so it’s purely for fun. Who would’ve thought that a class where we taste Spanish food and go to wine tastings wouldn’t transfer? I’ve already seen we have a textbook, two exams, and a few essays, so I’m sure we’ll find some way to over-academicize some of my favorite foods.
OK, quick pause. I know I started with “happy Friday,” but today is Sunday. I had a wild weekend of travel, and it got a little too late on Friday to actually publish the blog, so just pretend it’s last Friday. Also, this edition of the blog won’t include the details of this weekend… honestly, the past 24 hours could have their own blog dedicated to them… but you’ll have to wait until Wednesday… or Thursday… we’ll see.
Anyway, back to the host family. It has been such an odd situation. Like, sometimes they’re super nice and say “Delia, you should talk more,” and then we’ll talk for like an hour — and then they won’t talk to me for like three days. I think the word I used to describe it today to one of my friends from school (yes, I conveniently made a friend on the last day of school) was bipolar. Not like they are bipolar, but like the Katy Perry song: hot and cold, all over the place. Why have a host kid if you’re going to abandon them for long periods of time? That kind of defeats the purpose of me having the chance to practice my Spanish, right? They even told me at the start that the reason they wanted a college kid this year was that they couldn’t leave the high school kids alone in the house.
Anyway, I’ve given up trying to figure out if it was something I did or didn’t do. I pretty much have this whole Spanish manners thing down to a science at this point, so it’s definitely not that. Not to brag, but I think I’m a great host guest. I purposely shower at weird times of the day to not interfere with others’ schedules, I clean my room every day, I put my dishes in the dishwasher (and if they don’t fit, I hand wash them), I don’t make a mess, I’m not loud, I’m respectful, I play with the dog, wear my shoes in the house, put two hands on the table at all times, help out when needed, and go to class.
The good news is that my last weekend in Barcelona won’t be spent all alone because I have BIG PLANS! Tomorrow I head to el País Vasco (the Basque Country), more specifically, Bilbao. I am super excited to see and hear some Basque, which is a super interesting language because it has no ties to any other language — meaning that unlike, say, Spanish and English, where you have cognates like fusion and fusión, or literally any word ending in -ion that’s the same in Spanish (just add a c in place of the t before the -ion)… languages influence each other and evolve.
So to have a language so separate makes absolutely no sense in my brain — especially with all the history Spain has in the north with the Romans. Why don’t we see Basque influence in Spanish? Or Spanish in Basque? It’s a question that I — nor anyone in the world — has a good answer to, but it’s fascinating.
Note: Just did a quick search with our good old friend ChatGPT and it said that Spanish does have some Basque influence like with the word izquierda (left).
SO, get ready for a super cool report on everything Basque next week.
Oh, and did I mention that I’m going to see my Princeton Spanish prof? Like they say: when in Rome, do as the Romans do. And if you don’t know what the Romans do, go find a Roman. So when in Bilbao, go find Gorka. (Although he might not know what the “youths” are up to.) Someone put that on a T-shirt, please.
We left off last week after the ceramics studio on Thursday, which feels like ages ago since yesterday I picked up the finalized ceramics piece.
On Friday, I headed to my first-ever bodega where I could actually consume the product. I think I might have been a little too excited for what it ended up being, but I still had a good time. Now, me being naive, thought that every American college student seeing the word “alcohol” would be on this trip. The huge bus that pulled up to pick us up at 9:30 AM confirmed my suspicions.
Yet… only eight other people got on.
Yes, we had a 50-person bus for eight people.
This became even more amusing when our giant bus had to navigate the winding dirt paths of the winery, weaving awkwardly between rows of grapes like it was on a vineyard obstacle course. When we finally reached the top of the hill and unloaded, three staff members came out to greet us. One of them, clearly expecting a crowd, started assigning us to smaller groups.
There was an awkward pause before someone broke it to her: “Uh… there’s no one else on the bus. It’s just us. All eight of us.”
Her face dropped. Apparently, she’d spent the entire morning prepping for a group of 40 — olives, wine, the whole works. She was not amused.
Someone tried to lighten the mood by offering, “That’s OK — I’ll drink the wine for the rest of them.”
The first part of the experience consisted of 1.5 hours of standing in this shed situation, looking at the machines that make the wine. Apparently, they produce 26 different types of wine in this little shed/garage, which is wild. The explanation was a little too long for my liking — it just seemed to go on and on. And despite the lengthy presentation, I don’t think I actually understand how yeast and grapes make 26 types of wine. Like, I get the red vs. white situation, but where the 26 comes from… no clue.
It seemed like a pretty straightforward process: grapes + yeast + temperature control. They don’t even add anything because it’s “natural” or “organic” — IDK the term.
If it’s so easy, why aren’t we all making wine in our basements?
Or maybe people are? My parents certainly aren’t.
But I could totally see my aunt Jayne writing back to me after this post saying something like, “We make wine in our basement,” or “We tried at one point,” or “We want to in the future.” I’d be down. I’m more of a hands-on learner anyway. And if my dad can have bees and produce honey, I don’t see why I couldn’t participate in winemaking.
I just can’t legally try the product in the US for another 1.5 years.
HOW have I been 19 for half a year already?! I don’t want to be 20!!
Anyway, finally we got to the tasting. After going to Winelovers Salamanca and reading the wine descriptions for fun, I was expecting some vivid flavor profiles. All I got was the name of the wine.
I would’ve preferred less looking at the big metal stuff and more actual wine information, but whatever.
The wines were (in my professional opinion having only tried like 10 different wines in my entire life)… fine. Not the best, not the worst.
My personal favorite was Put Pétnat, a slightly sparkling white wine with a yellow color and green hues. It features a floral and herbaceous aroma with a subtle background of green almonds. It’s light and wet on the palate, with small, almost unnoticeable bubbles and floral tasting notes.
I wouldn’t call it sweet, but also not bitter.
The rest of the wines were okay. Wasn’t a huge fan of the red — but drinkable.
You can view the wines we tried in the front row of this image.
Don’t worry — there’ll be more wine content in the future with my upcoming Food and Drink class. I really hope we don’t have to identify wines by flavor because that seems… very challenging.
The tasting was fun, though, as we ended up talking about Spain and U.S. politics with the CIEE worker, who was 24 — so not much older than the kids on the trip. It was a fun conversation because there were people from all over the political spectrum.
One kid kept trying to convince the CIEE girl to come to the U.S., specifically L.A., where he was from. I was like… is now really the best time to go to L.A.?
He goes, “Just stay away from downtown where the protests are.”
IDK about you, but as an international traveler, I don’t think I’d want to run towards the ICE raids and protests… but to each their own.
This guy persisted, though, and eventually we got into talking about guns and how much he loves them.
The CIEE girl said she had never seen a gun before because they are not legal in Spain. This other guy must of said like 10 times that this girl HAD to come to the US and try shooting a gun. I even asked this kid what he needed a gun for and what he was doing with it. He couldn’t give me an answer besides it’s cool to have. SO yeah, new tourism slogan for the US.
Following the wine tasting, we went to the beach — which was absolutely gorgeous, nothing like the cesspool of Barcelona. We’re talking crystal-clear water where you can actually see the bottom. It was amazing. And thanks to my brand-new 14-euro sunscreen, no sunburns for me!
I must have been looking especially touristy with my out-of-control hair, sunglasses, and helado en mano, because on my way home, a woman from the Ayuntamiento de Barcelona chased me down to interview me. She wanted to know how long I’d been in the city, what types of transport I use, and how I got here — part of a push to collect data amid strong public pressure on the government to do something about overtourism and the housing crisis.
Like I started to touch on last week, there’s no easy answer, but the general feeling I get when speaking with Barcelona locals is that they believe it’s the government’s job to fix it. That’s a sentiment I feel we lack in the U.S. — when something goes wrong, we don’t blame the government; we just accept our problems, throw up our hands, and say, “Well, I guess we’ll pay $30,000 for that surgery” or let cities flood.
I was semi-concerned this city-uniformed woman might end up following me home, because when my train arrived, she hopped on too and kept asking questions. Thankfully, she got off at the next stop, so I was off the hook.
Saturday and Sunday, I went back to the vacation house up on the Costa Brava — the same one from the first week.
To be fair, it started with: “Oh Delia, we’re leaving you alone for the weekend,” but a few hours later turned into: “Delia, do you want to come with us?” And I’m glad I did — it was a lot more fun than last time.
We went to this secret little beach tucked between giant cliffs, had paella with stunning views, and later got caught in a mini storm with wind strong enough to send umbrellas flying like missiles. That night was movie night for me — I watched like four different films. Most were in English, but they were all really good because, as I’ve said before, Netflix Spain has a killer selection. I saw The Intern, Downsizing, Scent of a Woman, Hijo de Caín (a super wild thriller), and A Beautiful Mind (which takes place at Princeton… figured I had to watch it since so many tourists ask me about the movie).
Sunday, we went to a different beach — this one we had to bike to, which was such a fun ride through gorgeous fields and countryside. Straight out of a movie. The only downside was the bike seat, which was approximately as soft as a cinder block.
At the beach, we swam, and the dad tried to reach the far buoy — very slowly. I kept pace doing breaststroke with no goggles. Then we relaxed in the sun before heading back to the apartment for a swim in the pool. That afternoon and evening, a wild storm rolled in — borderline hurricane — with pelting rain and crazy wind. It was a stark contrast to the signs plastered on every block in 2024 Barcelona saying not to use water due to the drought. I think Barcelona in 2025 might have some to spare.
(Although, as a respectful house guest, I still take very short showers.)
During the storm, we watched a movie, had coffee at 6 p.m. (a crime in my American digestive system), and I tried something called rosco de vino, which is basically a small, hard donut that apparently has wine in it. We also made some kind of lotion out of beeswax and flowers because the mom is really into natural homemade skincare.
At some point, it got out that I have bees at home — which opened the floodgates to question after question about them. One of these came at 12:30 a.m., when my brain was very much not functioning. To make matters worse, it was a complex question: “What do the bees do in the winter? Do you take them inside?”
So there I was, at nearly 1 a.m., attempting to explain — in very broken Spanish — the difference between winter bees and summer bees and how, no, we don’t bring them inside. I’m pretty sure they didn’t understand, so I followed up the next day with a Spanish article explaining it all.
Now if you recall, the last time I went to the vacation apartment, I had no clue when we were leaving. As time went by on Sunday, I once again questioned that because I was promised we were leaving on Sunday. Turns out we left at 10 p.m.! Because my host family kept waiting for the traffic to go down from 2 hours to 1.5 hours. Seems kind of odd to me, but if they wanted to drive at 10 p.m. at night through the storm, be my guest.
With this week being my last week in Barcelona, but also being filled with schoolwork, I did my best to see the sites and do work.
Monday involved going to class and then, following that, going on an adventure to Casa Martí, home to 4 Gats, a famous meeting place for artists during Art Nouveau, mocking cafés in Paris. Now, no, I’m not some nerd that just knows this information and weirdly wanted to go to this place — it was for a school “engagement activity,” the most dumb things ever where we have to do activities and write about them. Normally, they don’t involve trips like this one and are just online discussion posts, but I had to get this one done to get all my engagement points for the class. It was kind of fun, and it was a nice-looking building located in el barrio gótico.
I also went to the famous Park Güell, aka the spot my family went to in March of last year, which required four miles of walking uphill all just to find out you needed tickets to enter the park (which were sold out).
Well, I got my ticket, and in a full-circle moment I went to the park in the nice cooler weather we’ve been having this week. Like, it actually is comfortable to go outside. Anyway, after my art prof hyped it up as being one of Gaudí’s masterpieces that ran out of funding to be turned into a neighborhood for rich people, I was expecting something amazing. Well… it was a park, with trees, and all the cool stuff was the stuff I saw last year from behind the fence outside the park. And it didn’t cost 18.50 euros, which is ridiculous to see some boring trees. The park did have some nice views of the city, but nothing worth the price! It was a good break from writing the paper though.
I did end up writing the paper that day — specifically, 9–11 p.m. I mean, it was the perfect setup. I was home alone, spread out on the couch, watching videos on my phone while typing away to wrap up the day. It was giving Pinterest.
Tuesday was not a great day as I got ripped off on a Barça jersey. I ended up spending 70 dollars on it, which seems ridiculous to me, especially considering that after wearing it for one day, it already has strings/fluff (idk how to explain it).
I also went to a Correfoc workshop, which is a traditional fire dance with drums in my barrio of Gràcia. I decided to go after my host mom canceled our plans to go up the mountain to a restaurant for the evening because she had theater practice.
Anyway, I went to this workshop and waited and waited for other kids to show up from the program. No one came. It was me, the CIEE worker, and like five people from the Correfoc group. Before the presentation, the CIEE worker and I talked in Spanish because it got out that I was staying in a homestay. Probably was the longest Spanish conversation I’ve had in a while considering the host family situation. Anyway, I walk into the presentation room with the five people, and they start speaking in Spanish saying things like, “She’s the only one? Poor her, all alone.” To which the CIEE worker chimed in, “Oh, you know she can speak Spanish?” They were very surprised.
It was super awkward because they kept asking me if I had questions or what I wanted to do. It’s not like I came to this workshop/presentation with prior knowledge — I just came to see what it was because I was home alone and it was close to the casa. I even got to try out some of the drums at the end. It was quite fun. One of the drummers told me she likes to imagine her boss’s face on the drum!
I also went to Mercadona for the final time while being in Barcelona (23 Mercadonas — wow!). I tried out the zumo de naranja machine, which I have wanted to try for such a long time. Basically, you watch it grind up oranges to make real orange juice that tastes like real oranges. It was really good and didn’t even have that much pulp. I’ll link a video of the machine working.
I also got some — what I’m calling — brick cookies, because man they are so heavy. I was like, why is my bag so heavy? No, it wasn’t the juice — it was the stupid cookies. But the cookies are awesome. They taste like Milano cookies in sandwich cookie form, and they are giant. Like, three could be a whole meal, no joke. I also bought some pasta for lunch, which was mid, and my 50-cent baguette.
Wednesday, my class went to the contemporary art museum — aka, the museum I went to last week for my research project (sigh). We didn’t even get to go to the fun scary part. One girl was afraid of a worm-like shape thing! I was like, wait until you go upstairs. The prof was like, yeah, we’re not going to do that. One girl then asked, why is it scary? The prof goes, “It’s queer.” There definitely was something lost in translation there, but yes, the exhibit is creepy with its music and videos (see image I took while facing the wall because I didn’t want to watch the creepy video again)… it has lived on in a few nightmares.
Following, I went to try Spain boba. Now, this was supposed to be an adventure to find a good smoothie, but the smoothie place I found ended up being 9 euros for a smoothie, which is absolutely 110 percent ridiculous… I mean, prices in general in Barcelona are ridiculous, but that’s the city for you. So I ended at Coco, a chain boba place. It wasn’t bad. I got a green mango tea with boba. They also had some nice couches, where I worked on finishing up my essay.
Later that night, I went to pick up my ceramics piece and stopped by a bakery I’ve been wanting to go to for a while that has awesome-looking cakes. On the way home, I ran into my host mom who was supposed to be at theater practice. She was walking out of a supermarket. She told me she was on the way to theater. So maybe theater is code for leaving your host kid at home to do other stuff… idk. I mean, I’ve seen the script and I doubt she’d lie, but who really cares.
The cupcake was kind of mid. Very dry and was definitely a “it looks better than it tastes” situation, but I already had a win with the boba that day so you can only win so many times in the food department.
Thursday was another win in the food department because I found a real iced caramel latte. Not a café con hielo, a real iced latte. It was so good. Tasted like home. The cookie I got with it was not as good, but I thought perhaps it would taste like a Tollhouse cookie because it looked like one — it didn’t.
Thursday was a not very exciting day because it was just studying for the exam. Spoiler: I overstudied. I went through all the presentations and wrote 14 pages of notes detailing the hallmarks of every type of art and Spanish art. It was painful. I even thought I hadn’t studied enough because normally I make flashcards and I certainly didn’t have all the specifics memorized.
For Thursday’s class we went to the CCCB, another museum which houses… well, I’m not really sure. The exhibit was super odd. It was about emotions in the air and represented it in stages from analytical books on emotions, to art, to the gazes of children, to abstract art. It was something. We also had an hour to review for the exam, which sucked because I didn’t bring my tablet to the museum and all I had was my phone to frantically type notes. Only three of the six came to class because somehow all three girls got “food poisoning,” aka stayed up all night to work on their essay and decided not to come to class.
Why we had to waste an hour Friday morning reviewing for them what we talked about on Thursday seems ridiculous to me, but we did.
I kid you not, the exam we were thrown on Friday was a joke. It was 15 multiple-choice questions plus two 150-word responses. No identifying art. Yet, people still managed to get 66 percent on the multiple-choice part. I mean, they didn’t study so I don’t feel bad. Not to brag, but I got 100 percent, which was a major ego boost because I haven’t seen a grade like that since starting Princeton. Ugh, I miss those grades. It’s so nice. So not to brag, but if you need to know anything about art and Spain, soy una experta from arte romano hasta arte contemporáneo.
Following class, CIEE had its farewell party with some traditional Spanish food of… pizza. And it was not even good pizza. Now, the party technically started at 12, so as we finished the exam we headed over to the party. I was very concerned for the girl next to me because when I left she had three wrong answers on her screen and was just staring at the free response. I kind of felt bad because her Spanish wasn’t that good… but to be fair, the prof totally would’ve been cool if she wrote it in English. I’m like 95 percent sure she didn’t study because she only had 5 pages of her essay (which was due on Thursday) done… it sounded like she stayed up all night to write the essay and neglected the exam. But es lo que es.
I did get to be interviewed for the CIEE Instagram, which was super fun because they’re totally not going to post my answers because they’re a little too Princeton.
So one of the questions was, what is your favorite word in Spanish? Now, I have come across this question before, in particular in Princeton Spanish class, and I had a terrible answer then, so I’m always thinking about this. A few months ago, I would have told you empalagar, meaning like that feeling when something is too sweet. I love that there is a word for this in Spanish because it is so relatable. Could be a synonym for white chocolate (yuck!). But, because the people before me said “hola” and “vale,” I decided to give them something a little too much and extra: Conmover: Perturbar, inquietar, alterar, mover fuertemente o con eficacia a alguien o algo. To disturb, unsettle, alter, or deeply/effectively move someone or something.
No, I didn’t just come up with this on the spot. It was from that museum we went to on Thursday where the title of the entire exhibit was «En el aire conmovido…» Imagen, emoción, utopía. Don’t worry, I explained all of this for the Instagram and how through this class we learned about the emotional nature of art. Yeah, they’re definitely posting the vale person. I mean, I do really like the word vale.
Also, when asked to give some students some advice, I told them to get off the beaten path and Park Güell was overrated and they should go take a walk up in Gràcia and explore. Soooo… my bad.
Following, I went to the Barrio Gótico with a friend from class to explore. We walked around, I got some postcards (which she nicely bought me because she had to get rid of coins before heading home on Monday), some sunglasses (which are very too much and extra) and we went to the Dunkin’ that started this Barcelona adventure over a year ago.
For those of you who don’t know, my parents are very particular about their coffee, so the fact there was a Dunkin’ in Barcelona when we were there was an exciting idea. We went to this Dunkin’ and my dad basically fought the staff because he wanted a café con crema. Despite me and the staff telling him they don’t have crema and only have leche (milk), this argument must have gone back and forth like five times with him repeating the word crema.
I went for the bubble tea instead because it is an item we don’t have in the US Dunkin. IDK why not because bubble tea is a big industry in the US, especially in the university crowd. I can’t say it was as good as COCO, but it was still pretty interesting and good.
I also went back to El Corte Inglés to try to understand what was going on there after the confusion of last week. Well, it turns out the store has 9 levels and I only went to two with clothes. When I tell you this store has absolutely everything in the world, I’m not lying. From clothes, swimsuits, beds, frying pans, sporting equipment, a supermarket, phones, books, insurance, a travel agency, lamps, air conditioners, tools, appliances, toys, a hairdresser, jewelry, perfume, pet stuff, and more—I’m not joking. If it isn’t in El Corte Inglés, it simply doesn’t exist. It was like a mall all in one shop. Like actually, it had little kiosks with brands like North Face and Samsung. Maybe the secret to the US’s mall survival is to stop separating the stores and instead make it one store. It was so much easier to find stuff that way. There also was all the El Corte Inglés branded stuff which made it stores inside of stores. Quite odd. I haven’t seen anything in the US to compare this to, but as I said last week, perhaps this is a department store? I’ve never been to one.
And now I’m here on the couch at home alone with my empty bags of M&M’s, ready to shower, eat dinner, and get ready to explore the world tomorrow.
While I am certainly happy to be moving to my next location and continue exploring, leaving Barcelona still makes me feel sentimental because this was where it all started a year ago. I came to Spain for many reasons—some out of regret, like not speaking Spanish here last year or participating in Destino Salamanca in high school, and others for more practical reasons, like my love for Spanish research and wanting to be more involved with it at Princeton, but speaking Spanish kind of is required there (more on this next week 😊). But this trip has shown me that sometimes things happen for a reason. Without those decisions, I would have never been here today speaking lots of Spanish and exploring the country for three whole months. So, no regrets here, because life led me where I needed to end up. Home alone, sweating on the couch with some M&M’s. Who would’ve thought? So, if you’re looking at your life right now and you feel like you have a lot of regrets, just know that your right decision is right around the corner and it is never too late to go chase dreams no matter how big.
I think the great thing about Barcelona is that it always leaves you wanting more. Like candy with a funny aftertaste that makes you crave another piece to savor it again. There’s so much to explore, and whether you’re here for one day or one month, you’ll never be able to see it all. But maybe it’s also a little empalagada—too sweet and grande to keep indulging in endlessly. Either way, I’ve been conmovida here in Barcelona and have learned a lot.
Para concluir, (because who doesn’t love a good discourse connector) a toast to continuing this journey not just for one more month, but a commitment to exploring the world with curiosity, bravery, and a sense of adventure. Salud!
Palabras de la semana — many are related to my essay:
- La encuesta — survey. Make sure the encuestadora doesn’t follow you home!
- Hecho a mano — made by hand (an obvious one, but we actually had a debate about which preposition to use)
- Conmover — to move emotionally; it feels even deeper when you’re in a museum
- Conciencia — awareness
- Imperio — empire
- Pergaminos — scrolls
- Rezumar — to ooze or to exude (like when something slowly seeps out). Is this where zuma (juice) comes from?
- Actualización — update
- Compromiso — commitment
- Obra maestra — masterpiece
BAR -bar
CEL – sky
ONA -wave
Nos vemos el próximo,
Ps. Next week’s blog is going to be such a good one.
