The aroma of fresh croissants and coffee, "SCREEEEEEECH! rrrrummmble-rrumble...." The sound of a train pulling into the metro stop. These two sensations together are what I smell and hear every morning just before I board. There are small cafes located inside of most metro stops, usually selling a slightly over priced version of anything you can find in a regular cafe.
Perfumes and colognes are caught in the air by a whisky breeze as a crowd bustles by,
"Hola" "Bon dìa" people say as they pass one another. As I walk from the metro, past the Arc de Triomf, and to the building where they hold my classes, I glimpse this daily.
Cigerettes and coffee waft through the doors, young men and women jabber in some combination of Catalan and Spanish. There are classmates of mine and other fellow students crowded at the door of the building. It is illegal to smoke indoors, but there´s nothing that says you can´t do it just outside.
Dry erase markers with a pungent smell, a slow speaking and irrate profesor mumbles on about Europe as students whisper loudly to one another. Classrooms are no more a quiet place to Spanish students than any other location.
The scent of a hot meal, mediterranean spices filling the air, "¿Sabes què es una manzana? ¿Sabes què es una servilleta?" my host sister asks insistantly. Dinner is served and delicious. And comes with a vocabulary quiz that could be on any Spanish word she knows, whether I do or not.
Beer and sweat and the smells of so many people in one place, music played so loud that your ears want to scream as the people next to you do in order to hold conversations. The occasional excursion to a bar can be enjoyable. Particularly with some good friends who also like to get loud and have a good time.
Fresh and clean lennon, silence. Shrowded in darkness and a thick blanket, finally, happily, I fall asleep.
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