So I have had the last month completely off from school, and, one would think, this would leave me with more than enough time to successfully keep up this blog. Yet, somehow, and I’m still not even really sure how, it seems that during my past month of “Freedom,” I have been busier than I was during the two previous months.
I have been in Spain for almost three months now. The time has gone unbelievably fast. In this time I have made a mountain of friends, procured the ability to hold basic level Spanish conversations, been really, really cold, and more and more and more. It’s been a very amazing experience so far, one that I am very grateful I undertook. I can feel myself expanding, opening up, becoming freer. But, all of that, I think I will leave for another entry (or maybe even another blog) because right now I want to write about the Christmas season in Barcelona.
Spanish people love their holidays, and they love getting together during these holidays. There were about 6 occasions for large family dinners over the past 3 weeks. Actually, it’s the norm in Spain that families stay very close to one another. Children even continue living with their parents into their thirties. It’s a different attitude from that of a lot of Americans. Of course, there are pros and cons to each, but I have enjoyed being a part of it here. I think there is definitely something almost magical in a big family gathering where everyone is laughing, drinking wine, even singing.
Christmas eve was really nice, with the exception of watching the preparation and consumption of an entire suckling pig. Head, tail, feet, and all (Only his head and tail were cut off and put next to him in the over so they whole thing would fit) His name was Pepito (pobresito) and everyone thought he was delicious. I proposed a moment of silence for him (jokingly of course) and did, in fact, try him. Pork is pork, after all, whether you see the head and feet or not. Gerardo enjoyed teasing me about the pig. It was a good time.
On Christmas day, I was not woken up to the excited shouts of the girls opening their presents. Instead, it was a more low-key affair. Santa had only come to Grandma’s house, where we went and had Christmas lunch and exchanged some gifts. The next day, Dec 26th, was also a holiday which is celebrated in Catalunya, St. Sebastian. Celi explained to me that this is because Catalan people are very practical—the 25th they spend with the maternal side of the family, and 26th is spent with the paternal side. Y esta. No arguments, no complicated plans. But this, of course, required another family get together. 
I’m going to end this here and write another entry about the holidays in a couple of days, there is just so much too this. (For homework, please, look up the Caganer and Tío on Wikipedia). More on that soon, and the Day of the Kings!
