Just a day in the life

I'm rushing to school in the morning, cold and upset that I'm even up so early when this random old woman stops me.

She starts to mumble and of course, I don't understand what the hell she's saying. Finally, I get that she wants a cigarette from me. "No dice, lady, I don't smoke." I think that's that and start to go about my way when surprise!  The lady turns out to be fucking insane.

Why does she reach out and try to caress my face after I tell her I have no cigarettes? She's not even saying a word, either. Her hands are just reaching out towards my face. Best believe I made like Neo in The Matrix.

See that? Yeah, I did it. We were both silent as we did that little dance: she reaching for my face and me bending every which way to avoid her hands.

Finally, I said "what are you doing?!" and just ran around her. I glanced at the people who happened to be around us and they had the most perfect blank faces. For a minute, I had to reassure myself that I was walking the streets of Spain and not NYC. Then I met my teacher and life went on.

Just a day in the life.

Lesson for today:

Never get a seat facing the person eating alone....especially when you're eating alone too.

Rookie move, Juliet. You should know that by now.

Talk about awkward.

"What did you say?!"

Today we were practicing names of places and shops in the city. I asked what things they could buy at the mall and the kids were throwing out all sorts of things.

One kid said “knickers,” but the way he prounounced it, it sounded like “niggers.”

My head snapped up so quickly. I said, “what?!” and the bass in my voice? It was somethin’ serious. I’ve never seen a child look so afraid. He whispered “knickers” again and then said “como ropa interior, no?” Everyone was looking at me like I had lost my mind. I had to play that off. Thank God there were only 10 mins left in the class.

I blame the British for teaching these kids these words. I mean, knickers? Knickers?

God.

I find it quite humourous the lengths Spanish women will go to obtain "great" skin. I mean, just looking at the prices they're paying for all these creams are shocking enough!

S-M-H.

All they need to do is stop smoking, exfoliate, and drink more water. I'm positive they would get the results they're searching for at half the price. Ha.

And she's back....

I must admit, I've been "doing the USA" these past few weeks.

It was good to see my family and some friends...and it felt even better to be in a country where I could understand everything without having to concentrate, but now I'm back to doing Spain....which leaves me with mixed feelings.

I thought Spain had changed its wiley ways during my absence, but I was sadly mistaken.

I was greeted well enough when I first arrived. The customs official was very nice to me. He even tried to flirt by asking if I had found my Romeo yet. (I hate that line with a passion, but I decided to give him a pass because he was trying to practice his English and he had a nice smile.) The Metro officials were nice and helpful and even the people on the bus to Logrono smiled more than usual. All seemed well.

Then I got to Logrono and my bubble was popped. I get to my apartment building and I struggle to open the door. This lady comes up behind me and watches me struggle to open the door and then struggle to get my bags inside. I mean, it wouldn't have cost her anything to drag my other bag inside. It wasn't heavy and it was small. Noo, she couldn't do that. Instead she watched me fight with my bags with a slight look of disdain and then hurriedly walked inside. Then she mumbled "Buenos dias" and I kept it moving without responding.

Tell me whyyyyy this lady had the audacity to turn around and try to berate me for not responding. Talking some, "You didn't hear what I said? I tried to say Good morning to you" blah blah blah. I looked at her with the most perfect blank face and then attended to my bags. She gonna mumble "She didn't hear me." Only the Lord Jesus stilled my tongue and stopped me from replying, "Actually trick, I did hear what the fuck you said, but since you wanted to be so rude I didn't see it fit to respond to your snotty ass. Now move from my path so I can enter the elevator. You tried it, honey, and I aint the one." I hope she said her prayers and thanked the Lord for saving her from me.

I finally get to my apartment and I get to opening the door. I'm so ready to be up in my bed, I'm damn near taking off my shoes in the hallway. Why don't my keys open the door? Apparently my landlady saw it fit to lock one more lock in the damn door and wouldn't you know that's the key she didn't give us? So I had to take me and my suitcases to her house (thank the Lord she lives like around the corner otherwise I wouldn't have been a happy kitty) and call her, because of course I don't remember the exact apartment she lives in. This chick had the gumption to act surprised, talking some "You don't have that key? Woow, I thought I gave it to you!....Are you the first one back?" Nah trick, you knew nan one of us had the key to that top lock, you just wanted a way to know when we came back. And you damn sure already know that I'm the first one back. Don't play with me. So she gave me her set of keys and I was finally able to enter my damn house.

Oh yes, and of course, my cookies that I brought back with me from the States opened up into my suitcase and crumbled into the tiniest of bits. Needless to say, I slept forever.

Bienvenidos a Espana, Julieta!

Sometimes, just sometimes, I wish my mother didn't raise me to know better....

These old Spanish women love to test my gangsta, I swear!

Everytime they push past me with the strength of 10,000 men, my instinct is to let them know what's really, really hood. [They have to know it's rude to push...right?]

Only thing that stops me is the apparition of my mother with a look on her face that says "What did you just do? I'm getting the belt. Let's see if you'll disrespect your elders again."

Dammit mom, dammit.

France, is that you?

Never been in France before, but Girona is how I imagine it to be. I’ll find out for sure next year. Old castle walls, covered with greenery, winding cobblestone streets that dipped and climbed according the the landscape, and all of it by the laziest of rivers. (I actually hate those streets. I thought I would have myself a Beyonce experience and strut in heels as I went sightseeing. After nearly breaking my ankle 3 times I had to stop in some rando store for flats. Guidebooks should maybe write that in the description somewhere: cobblestone streets- Heels aren’t recommended. Could result in your subsequent death….but I digress)

I don’t consider myself a nature person, but I sat on those ivy covered walls that are probably older than the US itself, and was very content to be there, breathing in the fresh air and doing absolutely nothing. It had to be the most pure feeling that I’ve had in a long while.

Update: Upon further reflection, all those good feelings could also be due to the fact that I finally flats on and didn’t have to worry about falling and breaking my neck. I prefer to think that it was solely the effect of Girona and nature.