announcement: due to the lack of control over my diet, partly due to cruella's cooking and partly due to my unwillingness, i have decided to give up swearing for lent instead of my usual chocolate/soda/junk food/etc. consequently, there may be some interesting substitutes in my writing. fell free to insert word of choice instead. also- if you have any creative or more appropriate words you can suggest to me, i encourage you to not hesitate in doing so. the more the better, as this will probably be a challenge for me.
next day. sunday. superbowl sunday that is.
diana and i go to church at Almudena again. to my surprise, it's not hard to find motivation to go to church here. for one, there's a church every 12 feet. and secondly, it's like stepping inside a museum every time. i may not understand anything being said, but my eyes never get bored.
that night i have to go to a jazz concert for my music class. it starts at 9:30, but we are supposed to get there to get tickets by 9. or so we think. well, i don't know, the rest of the class went the night before... hey, real madrid takes priority. but can't forget. superbowl. kickoff is at 12:22am. can't be late. we usually eat dinner at 8:30ish, so i tell cruella i have to leave early for the concert. she tells me she'll have dinner ready early. i thought this meant for everyone. at 8:15 cruella knocks on my door for dinner. i head into the kitchen to find only my place set at the table. .....shucks.... i sit down and cruella feeds me as we try to talk spanglish at eachother. luckily when i'm only halfway done she goes and gets the other girls for their first course. i finish up and head out.
the concert is at sala clamores. i can't remember what my teacher said about the venue, but i hope that it's a bar or at least a more relaxed environment than a theatre. contrary to what you all are thinking, i hope it's a bar so that i can still talk to my friends during the show and leave early for superbowl if necessary without causing disruption -- NOT for the drinks. ...well, maybe 28% for the drinks. i mean, come on, you get to drink and do homework at the same time. and it's superbowl sunday. and i'm american.
sala clamores is a bar. we use our school ids to get student pricing on our tickets. which student seating is at the bar. ...my teacher made me. mike, hannah, and i sit down and ask what the cheapest drink is. a glass of wine or a beer for 4 euro, which... is not good. we decide to just get one drink while we're here (i mean, it's weird sitting at the bar when you're not planning on drinking or ordering anything. i don't even know if that's legal). mike, who had just come back from valencia (literally, he came straight to sala clamores after his bus got into madrid, just stopping at home to drop his bag off), only had 3 euro. he had been pickpocketed and his roommate had given him 10 euro, 7 of which he used on his student priced ticket. "anything i can get for 3 euro?" he asks the bartender, who snuffs him off. "did you really think that was going to work?" hannah asks him. i lend his sorry self a euro.
on the bar, there are bowls of popcorn. which we continue to munch on for the entire time we're there. i'm pretty sure we were the only people eating it. eventually we just move the bowl in front of us. for mike, who hadn't eaten, this was dinner. i had no excuse.
9:30 rolls by. 10. 10:15. we're getting antsy. dubliners, the irish pub in sol we want to watch superbowl at, will be getting pretty packed with slu kids soon. where the heck is the band? finally the band gets on stage: a pianist, guitarist, violinist, double bassist, and drummer. you expect jazz to be soothing and mellow. this was not what i was expecting. the violinist starts with a crazy fast riff, head banging with his long curls in his face. [i wrote about this in my reflection, which my teacher responded to via email telling me "good job." i mean.. sure i wrote about the music too, but this was more significant to me. ol' crazy head shakin' his long locks to the beat of his own bow.]
at 10:45 it was intermission. concluding after little debate that we had enough material to write 2 pages on, we decide to ditch to get to dubliners. we got a game to watch.
when we get to dubliners, we can't take a step in the door without finding friends. there's no seats left and it's already elbow to elbow, but there's some strong slu representin' here- at least half the crowd i recognize. i go over the the big screen and find a place to stand and end up talking baseball with eric. hey, i may be here for football, but baseball is where my heart is. the boys are all amped up, shouting "i love americaaaaa!" when the national anthem starts, the whole crowd sings along, belting out each out of tune note (sorry carrie underwood, but to me, our voices sounded so much sweeter than yours that night - no, it wasn't the alcohol, it was pure patriotism!!). since most people standing next to me are rooting for the colts, i opt for cheering on the saints. might as well make it interesting right? i walked in neutral and now i'm a die hard saints fan! LET'S DO THIS.
when i first got there i had 10 euro left. this is good - i think to myself - i won't be hung over tomorrow and i won't spend too much on drinks.... a large beer is 4 euro. ok... 2 big beers should do it.... i'm done with both before half time. screw this. it's superbowl. i'm american. i'm at least going to follow one tradition. ....i think. it's cheaper to buy in bulk. meaning a bucket. who can i split this with who doesn't already have a drink? who in their right mind does not already have a drink?! someone who doesn't have money... mike. i grab him and tell him i'll split a bucket with him if he pays me for half when he gets money. without any hesitation he obliges, and i pull out the debit card.
i don't know why, but every male who sees a girl with a credit card is programmed to think that their father is paying for it. because every time i pull out my card, a guy goes "ohhh daddy's credit card! daddy's paying!!!" "....um, no. this is my name on the card. i pay for this, thank you." and if you know what's good for you you'll shut your mouth before i keep all these beers for myself.
for some reason (and thinking back, this makes no sense to me now), i think that lady gaga is performing at half time. someone asks me who is performing at half time. i say lady gaga. girls start screaming and spreading the news. ...is she performing?....oh crap... i totally just started the wrong rumor... i'm sure hearts broke when The Who came on. i relocate myself to the bar during halftime so i wouldn't get punched by one of those girls tearing up when the words "lady gaga" exited my mouth 40 minutes earlier.
although this superbowl was completley unsimilar to any other superbowl i've experienced [for the following reasons: -1. first superbowl in a foreign country (especially one where no one gives a shiz about the superbowl) -2. first superbowl in a bar (or somewhere besides my house) -3. first superbowl without the commercials (yeah... french broadcasting...) -4. no chili cheese dip ...or any junk food... which leads to -5. first superbowl consuming only 1/16 of the calories i would have otherwise consumed if i was in the US (some might be ok with this, even prefer it. i was not. where the frick are my chicken wings and little smokies??)], it was one of the best superbowls ever.
i leave superbowl early (as in, before the game was over. the time was 3:30am) and head on home. the next morning i panic as i look at my "dialed calls" on my phone to find that i (as in, me, myself, and my pocket) had called cruella twice the night before. ....crud, crap, shiz, double shiz! i go to diana for guidance and we find that the calls had not gone through. thank. god.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
don't judge a pizza by it's cover
the following week it's pretty sunny. you could find me in the court yard at school - along with 25 other kids - soaking up some vitamin d. finally... maybe it'll start getting warm now...
the day before i got an email saying i received a package, and to come pick it up in the mail room. no surprise- i had asked my mom to send me a little something. i went to the mail room (which is a desk in the student lounge. it is also the book store) to get it and i am handed a package that is substantially bigger than what i was expecting. oh no... what's this... i go back out to the court yard and sit down and open the package. valentines day goodies. candy, card, stuffed bear holding a rose, cracker jacks, and a little frog that grows into a prince when you submerge it in water (no, i am not too old for this). thanks, mom. chris, diana and i crowd around my goodies, passing the red and white gummy bears as we talk about how we miss coffee. you know.. the real kind? that comes from a coffee pot? that amounts to more than 3/4 a cup? "does any senora have a percolator?" asks diana. we all sit in silence. .....what the hell is a percolator? so i ask, "what the hell is a percolator?" "yeah, that's what i was thinking," says chris. and then diana, who is amused that we do not know, explains that is it essentially just the same thing that we know of as a coffee maker. who knew?
for dinner we had meatloaf. made me miss shari's meatloaf with BBQ sauce. ...and my stomach just growled. damn it. time to get that card out again...
the next day renata, mike and i book our tickets for dubrovnik, croatia in april. if you have never seen this place, google it. you're eyes are in for a treat.
in music thursday we have to sing in class. no one was expecting it. i mean this is music theory - a 100 level class - you're not really required to have any musical ability. when it is your turn you have to either a) change the pitch (any pitch), b) change the duration (length), c) change the volume. i was the last to go. talk about building up the pressure (which, all of you who have seen me perform in front of +4 people, know exactly how i shake and how my face turns bright red...maybe that's what draws the crowd in at mokka... the visual...). and to top it off, she makes me go twice because i didn't "crescendo." .....kiss my butt.
friday i meet raphael, christy, david, and thomas to walk over to bernabeu stadium to get our real madrid vs. espanyol tickets for the next day. [most likely will be the cheapest home game of the season, considering espanyol is the worst team we'll play at home all year. i did the research.] 40 euro. not too bad. raphael argues with me the whole way. i tell him we should walk to the stadium because it's nice out. "that will take an hour." ....no, it won't... argument. he says that the tickets won't be any cheaper than online. ...yes, they will.... argument. he tells me the game is on sunday. ...no, it's not. now i think he's trying at anything just to bicker. i'm not bothered - i'm actually entertained - because i know i'm right. and make a point of rubbing it in his face the next day at the game. raphael, if you're reading this... you know i love you.
we meet christy, david, and thomas to walk over to the stadium. i talk to david as we walk. all of a sudden, he starts walking creepily behind a man in front of us, something like this- hands in his pockets, head cocked with a mischievous grin on his face, about 4 feet behind the guy. what... is he doing... the local looks back to see david walking behind him, looking straight at him with that creepy smile. i've never seen someone walk away so fast. i'm cracking up as i watch the spaniard, who is already half a mile up the road. "what the hell?" i ask david. this kid is messed up. i like it.
i ask raphael if diana and i can cook dinner at his place before the game tomorrow, then express my desperate need to find manwich. yeap... thanks dad... been craving sloppy j's ever since that card... awesome. even though raphael doesn't like sloppy joes, we go to the american store to look for manwich after we buy our tickets at the stadium. no manwich. guess i won't be satisfying this craving for a lonnng time. instead we buy cans of dr. pepper and root beer and head to plaza de la republica argentina to drink 'em. we sit there and stare at the fountain. i realize, this is the first soda i've had in madrid. by the time i'm done, i have a major sugar rush. i jump up, slam my can to the ground and punch both arms in the air in victory. "whoaaa rocky," raphael teases. pshh... rocky... rocky can't chug a root beer like this girl...
saturday. game day.
morning- diana and i are on a mission. check fnac's (electronics, books, etc., store) for the second time for an italy travel book. i need this!!! still no dice. i regret not ordering one online... next we go to pickup our bullfighting tickets we bought for march 14th. tickets were cheap. the cheapest ones were 8 euro, so we splurged at got the 9.50 ones. yeahhhh front row of the last section, high rollin'!!! we figured, hey - we're going to watch a bull get slaughtered, we don't need front row seats for that. in fact, we prefer our 9.50 euro tickets. but. the ticket place isn't open. again, no dice. we spot a book store, casa de libros (house of books. straight to the point.), and stop in to see if they have travel books. they do. ..italia, italia, italia, ITALY!!!! one in english! FINALLY. i'm relieved. checkout, leave, done.
the truth is, diana and i love books. book stores, libraries, etc. we talk about how we miss real libraries, not the one at school which has 30 books and 5 tables. and how we were actually allowed to drink - no, ENJOY - a cup of coffee while studying, reading, ...facebooking... anyway, we're nerds when it comes to book shops. but all the ones we've been to, don't have a reading section. or cafe. why, why, why?
...i don't think i've mentioned the dogs here. 1. everyone has a dog. 2. no one has a leash. the dogs just walk along side their owners, respectfully dodging obstacles and lazily strut along. it's amazing. once, i saw a dog walking itself - it's leash in it's own mouth, causally walking along the street. anyway, diana and i are walking from casa de libros and i guess there's something about pugs that make her a little ...sentimental? i don't know, but one is walking past us and i hear her swoon.. and then i hear something else. "look at it's butt!" and then i see diana reach down and smack the side of the dog's behind. ......... "did you just smack that dog's butt?" i ask her. "yes." later i learn more about her dog butt fetish.
next, we venture around madrid. we go to the Temple of Debod - this ancient egyptian temple that was rebuilt in madrid [tell us wikipedia: The temple was built originally 15 km south of Aswan in southern Egypt very close to the first cataract of the Nile and to the great religious center dedicated to the goddess Isis, in Philae. The temple was rebuilt in one of Spain's most beautiful parks, the Parque de Rosales, near the royal palace of Madrid, and opened to the public in 1972.]. Next, diana wants to go see Francisco Goya's (a spanish artist from the 18th century... who i had never heard of until that day) tomb in this church called Ermita de San Antonia de la Florida, where Goya painted the ceiling and dome frescoes. sure, i'll come along for the ride... might as well educate myself since i'm clueless.
leaving the parque de rosales, we stop to look at our map to figure out where Goya is. a couple comes up behind us and asks if we are going to the church where Goya is en tombed. ..why, yes, we are... how did you know that? we start walking together, the woman is from a town near venice, and the man is from scottland. i tell her i am going to italy in 2 weeks. "rome?" "yes." "venice?" "...yes.." seriously. is this woman psychic? what the hell is going on. the woman tells us the church we are going to is a "place girls look for men" and later, she says it is a good place to get married. .....? i wonder if the couple is engaged... finally we find it after 20 minutes of walking. [later, diana and i talk about how crazy it was that she knew we were headed to see Goya when the church was no where near the park we were at.] there were 2 small churches. something was going on in the first because there were all people and camera men outside. we go over to the second and stare at the dome and ceiling for awhile. ...ok maybe for like 5 minutes, but like i said it was a small church. and, in my point of view, not the kind of place to get married in. sorry, fortune teller lady.
diana and i continue our venture. we stop in a bar for lunch. an asian is playing an arcade game, smoking a cigarette, while his girlfriend sits by and watches. they do not move from their positions from the moment we enter to the moment we leave. the bartender and a customer, watch the screen as he plays. i wonder if this is their typical saturday... i order calamari, but the bartender says i can't have it just by itself, it has to come on a sandwich. ... that was interesting. calamari sandwich. no sauce, just bread and calamari. ....ok, then. diana and i are proud we can go to a local bar and order food and drinks.
next we head to casa de campo, a park pretty close to where we live. we walk up a hill to this pond, where there is boat rental and small outdoor restaurants lining the water. it's a really nice place. as we walk around the pond, two bikers ask to take our picture (or so we figure out through spanglish). ..oh.. sure.... so here it is--
we sit on a bench in the sun and i get out my italy travel book and start to absorb.
for dinner, we head to raphael's - first stopping at supersol to pick up some frozen pizza's (yeah... when i said cooking... that's what i meant). diana is craving pizza - and will be for the next week and 3 days. we look at the selection supersol offers us. i spot something delicious. "ooo look at this," i say to diana - cheese, ham, and mushroom pizza. could this get any better?? "see, i don't know why they put pictures like that on these boxes," she replies. i realize that she and i are thinking the exact opposite idea of this pizza. "i think this looks amazing," i tell her. "oh, wow, really? that looks terrible!" "i'm getting it." i grab some asparagus for our vegetable and go to check out. our purchase: two oven pizzas, asparagus, 6 pack of san miguel, carton of sangria = less than 10 euro. love it.
we go to raphael's and start the oven. i get out a pan and do some improv with the asparagus. i wanted garlic put they didn't have powder - just the bulb - and i was too lazy to deal with it. but it didn't matter because it was still awesome. food is done and we sit done at the table. "that actually looks really good...," diana says, eyeballing my pizza. um, i know. and it was. "don't judge a pizza by it's cover," i say to her. "i guess you're right, but you know, to the general population that pizza looked disgusting." i laugh. we debate and decide to take a poll. so here is the pizza cover... along with diana's thumb mistakenly in the wrong direction. what do you think?
we split our pizza's half and half and share [she had opted for BBQ style, which was also delicious].
after dinner, raphael and i walk to meet thomas, david, christy, and others for the game. except they're running late, so we walk on without them. this time we argue about hair salons. when we get to the stadium, people are everywhere. raphael walks to the right without saying anything. and i don't see him. where did he go.... i stand there. shit. i have
no idea where to go. as i'm standing there wondering if we'll be able to hear each other if i call him, someone grabs me from behind. i turn around. david. and thomas. "oh my God, i'm so glad to see you guys." saved. seems like someone's always looking out for me...
the game was fun. there were at least 12 of us there. we won 3-0.
the day before i got an email saying i received a package, and to come pick it up in the mail room. no surprise- i had asked my mom to send me a little something. i went to the mail room (which is a desk in the student lounge. it is also the book store) to get it and i am handed a package that is substantially bigger than what i was expecting. oh no... what's this... i go back out to the court yard and sit down and open the package. valentines day goodies. candy, card, stuffed bear holding a rose, cracker jacks, and a little frog that grows into a prince when you submerge it in water (no, i am not too old for this). thanks, mom. chris, diana and i crowd around my goodies, passing the red and white gummy bears as we talk about how we miss coffee. you know.. the real kind? that comes from a coffee pot? that amounts to more than 3/4 a cup? "does any senora have a percolator?" asks diana. we all sit in silence. .....what the hell is a percolator? so i ask, "what the hell is a percolator?" "yeah, that's what i was thinking," says chris. and then diana, who is amused that we do not know, explains that is it essentially just the same thing that we know of as a coffee maker. who knew?
for dinner we had meatloaf. made me miss shari's meatloaf with BBQ sauce. ...and my stomach just growled. damn it. time to get that card out again...
the next day renata, mike and i book our tickets for dubrovnik, croatia in april. if you have never seen this place, google it. you're eyes are in for a treat.
in music thursday we have to sing in class. no one was expecting it. i mean this is music theory - a 100 level class - you're not really required to have any musical ability. when it is your turn you have to either a) change the pitch (any pitch), b) change the duration (length), c) change the volume. i was the last to go. talk about building up the pressure (which, all of you who have seen me perform in front of +4 people, know exactly how i shake and how my face turns bright red...maybe that's what draws the crowd in at mokka... the visual...). and to top it off, she makes me go twice because i didn't "crescendo." .....kiss my butt.
friday i meet raphael, christy, david, and thomas to walk over to bernabeu stadium to get our real madrid vs. espanyol tickets for the next day. [most likely will be the cheapest home game of the season, considering espanyol is the worst team we'll play at home all year. i did the research.] 40 euro. not too bad. raphael argues with me the whole way. i tell him we should walk to the stadium because it's nice out. "that will take an hour." ....no, it won't... argument. he says that the tickets won't be any cheaper than online. ...yes, they will.... argument. he tells me the game is on sunday. ...no, it's not. now i think he's trying at anything just to bicker. i'm not bothered - i'm actually entertained - because i know i'm right. and make a point of rubbing it in his face the next day at the game. raphael, if you're reading this... you know i love you.
we meet christy, david, and thomas to walk over to the stadium. i talk to david as we walk. all of a sudden, he starts walking creepily behind a man in front of us, something like this- hands in his pockets, head cocked with a mischievous grin on his face, about 4 feet behind the guy. what... is he doing... the local looks back to see david walking behind him, looking straight at him with that creepy smile. i've never seen someone walk away so fast. i'm cracking up as i watch the spaniard, who is already half a mile up the road. "what the hell?" i ask david. this kid is messed up. i like it.
i ask raphael if diana and i can cook dinner at his place before the game tomorrow, then express my desperate need to find manwich. yeap... thanks dad... been craving sloppy j's ever since that card... awesome. even though raphael doesn't like sloppy joes, we go to the american store to look for manwich after we buy our tickets at the stadium. no manwich. guess i won't be satisfying this craving for a lonnng time. instead we buy cans of dr. pepper and root beer and head to plaza de la republica argentina to drink 'em. we sit there and stare at the fountain. i realize, this is the first soda i've had in madrid. by the time i'm done, i have a major sugar rush. i jump up, slam my can to the ground and punch both arms in the air in victory. "whoaaa rocky," raphael teases. pshh... rocky... rocky can't chug a root beer like this girl...
saturday. game day.
morning- diana and i are on a mission. check fnac's (electronics, books, etc., store) for the second time for an italy travel book. i need this!!! still no dice. i regret not ordering one online... next we go to pickup our bullfighting tickets we bought for march 14th. tickets were cheap. the cheapest ones were 8 euro, so we splurged at got the 9.50 ones. yeahhhh front row of the last section, high rollin'!!! we figured, hey - we're going to watch a bull get slaughtered, we don't need front row seats for that. in fact, we prefer our 9.50 euro tickets. but. the ticket place isn't open. again, no dice. we spot a book store, casa de libros (house of books. straight to the point.), and stop in to see if they have travel books. they do. ..italia, italia, italia, ITALY!!!! one in english! FINALLY. i'm relieved. checkout, leave, done.
the truth is, diana and i love books. book stores, libraries, etc. we talk about how we miss real libraries, not the one at school which has 30 books and 5 tables. and how we were actually allowed to drink - no, ENJOY - a cup of coffee while studying, reading, ...facebooking... anyway, we're nerds when it comes to book shops. but all the ones we've been to, don't have a reading section. or cafe. why, why, why?
...i don't think i've mentioned the dogs here. 1. everyone has a dog. 2. no one has a leash. the dogs just walk along side their owners, respectfully dodging obstacles and lazily strut along. it's amazing. once, i saw a dog walking itself - it's leash in it's own mouth, causally walking along the street. anyway, diana and i are walking from casa de libros and i guess there's something about pugs that make her a little ...sentimental? i don't know, but one is walking past us and i hear her swoon.. and then i hear something else. "look at it's butt!" and then i see diana reach down and smack the side of the dog's behind. ......... "did you just smack that dog's butt?" i ask her. "yes." later i learn more about her dog butt fetish.
next, we venture around madrid. we go to the Temple of Debod - this ancient egyptian temple that was rebuilt in madrid [tell us wikipedia: The temple was built originally 15 km south of Aswan in southern Egypt very close to the first cataract of the Nile and to the great religious center dedicated to the goddess Isis, in Philae. The temple was rebuilt in one of Spain's most beautiful parks, the Parque de Rosales, near the royal palace of Madrid, and opened to the public in 1972.]. Next, diana wants to go see Francisco Goya's (a spanish artist from the 18th century... who i had never heard of until that day) tomb in this church called Ermita de San Antonia de la Florida, where Goya painted the ceiling and dome frescoes. sure, i'll come along for the ride... might as well educate myself since i'm clueless.
leaving the parque de rosales, we stop to look at our map to figure out where Goya is. a couple comes up behind us and asks if we are going to the church where Goya is en tombed. ..why, yes, we are... how did you know that? we start walking together, the woman is from a town near venice, and the man is from scottland. i tell her i am going to italy in 2 weeks. "rome?" "yes." "venice?" "...yes.." seriously. is this woman psychic? what the hell is going on. the woman tells us the church we are going to is a "place girls look for men" and later, she says it is a good place to get married. .....? i wonder if the couple is engaged... finally we find it after 20 minutes of walking. [later, diana and i talk about how crazy it was that she knew we were headed to see Goya when the church was no where near the park we were at.] there were 2 small churches. something was going on in the first because there were all people and camera men outside. we go over to the second and stare at the dome and ceiling for awhile. ...ok maybe for like 5 minutes, but like i said it was a small church. and, in my point of view, not the kind of place to get married in. sorry, fortune teller lady.
diana and i continue our venture. we stop in a bar for lunch. an asian is playing an arcade game, smoking a cigarette, while his girlfriend sits by and watches. they do not move from their positions from the moment we enter to the moment we leave. the bartender and a customer, watch the screen as he plays. i wonder if this is their typical saturday... i order calamari, but the bartender says i can't have it just by itself, it has to come on a sandwich. ... that was interesting. calamari sandwich. no sauce, just bread and calamari. ....ok, then. diana and i are proud we can go to a local bar and order food and drinks.
next we head to casa de campo, a park pretty close to where we live. we walk up a hill to this pond, where there is boat rental and small outdoor restaurants lining the water. it's a really nice place. as we walk around the pond, two bikers ask to take our picture (or so we figure out through spanglish). ..oh.. sure.... so here it is--
we sit on a bench in the sun and i get out my italy travel book and start to absorb.
for dinner, we head to raphael's - first stopping at supersol to pick up some frozen pizza's (yeah... when i said cooking... that's what i meant). diana is craving pizza - and will be for the next week and 3 days. we look at the selection supersol offers us. i spot something delicious. "ooo look at this," i say to diana - cheese, ham, and mushroom pizza. could this get any better?? "see, i don't know why they put pictures like that on these boxes," she replies. i realize that she and i are thinking the exact opposite idea of this pizza. "i think this looks amazing," i tell her. "oh, wow, really? that looks terrible!" "i'm getting it." i grab some asparagus for our vegetable and go to check out. our purchase: two oven pizzas, asparagus, 6 pack of san miguel, carton of sangria = less than 10 euro. love it.
we go to raphael's and start the oven. i get out a pan and do some improv with the asparagus. i wanted garlic put they didn't have powder - just the bulb - and i was too lazy to deal with it. but it didn't matter because it was still awesome. food is done and we sit done at the table. "that actually looks really good...," diana says, eyeballing my pizza. um, i know. and it was. "don't judge a pizza by it's cover," i say to her. "i guess you're right, but you know, to the general population that pizza looked disgusting." i laugh. we debate and decide to take a poll. so here is the pizza cover... along with diana's thumb mistakenly in the wrong direction. what do you think?
we split our pizza's half and half and share [she had opted for BBQ style, which was also delicious].
after dinner, raphael and i walk to meet thomas, david, christy, and others for the game. except they're running late, so we walk on without them. this time we argue about hair salons. when we get to the stadium, people are everywhere. raphael walks to the right without saying anything. and i don't see him. where did he go.... i stand there. shit. i have
no idea where to go. as i'm standing there wondering if we'll be able to hear each other if i call him, someone grabs me from behind. i turn around. david. and thomas. "oh my God, i'm so glad to see you guys." saved. seems like someone's always looking out for me...the game was fun. there were at least 12 of us there. we won 3-0.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
swiper no swiping
that same tuesday (the same tuesday i left of on), i come home to find an large envelope on my desk. i smile as i walk over to it. a letter from home?! they remember me?! honestly, since skype is so convenient and international postage isn't cheap, it was a nice surprise. what's in here, what's in here, what's in hereeeee!!! usually i open letters, pacakages, etc., very carefully - nice and neat. i don't know why... it's kind of stupid, no one keeps the envelope anyway. but this time i could barely contain myself as i ripped it open (and i'm sure the sound echoed throughout the apartment). inside, i see three envelopes. the first one i pick up i identify easily. and that's when i remember getting a text from dad on the way to the airport to leave the states - approximately 17 minutes after i left my house - telling me that jordan missed me and had already written me a letter. the envelope is decorated with a sun and clouds and a picture of what i think is me holding a sunflower? along with the words "jordan," "nick," and "smugala." it also has a stamp on it. it is taped shut. i open it. it is empty. classic.
after a small chuckle (yes, a chuckle - which doesn't happen for me often. usually it's a giggle or a "ha - hAAAaahh" - which comes from my aunts - or this little "hMMmph" thing, which is kind of like a huff and a "hah" without even opening my mouth - sam and i both do this. this was a chuckle), i move to the next envelope. a pink valentines day card from the family. my dad writes "p.s. don't fall in love." and my sister points to it with an arrow and writes "HA!" ....'HA!' what? i'm gonna 'HA!' you in a minute. it seems this family has mixed emotions about my love life. jordan signs it j*ordan, the * being a picture of lips? with an arrow pointing from it to the words "a kiss." ...hmm.... j-kiss-o-r-d-a-n.... i've never seen it spelled that way.
the last card is my most and least favorite. on the cover there is a picture of a sad chihuahua with a sombrero on saying "adios" and on the inside saying "that's spanish for: sure, go ahead and leave your friends, the only people who really care about you, fine, just take off!!" hahahahahahahaahahah. that's good. Shari rights underneath it, "and live your dreams - we'll get over it!" ...now that i think about it, shari's pretty damn good at supporting my ideas and goals. not saying that anyone else in my family is lacking, there's just a certain energy she brings to the table. and that extra excitement from her encourages you even more.
my dad takes a different approach to this card. he writes, "nick, in case you don't miss me, you may miss the following:" and then precedes to write that weeks entire dinner menu. ham steak & mashed potatoes, chicken tetrazzini, sloppy joes, fillets on the grill, oreo's (even letting me know when they were going out to eat and when they are running out of oreo's - thank you. that was essential). basically, all my favorites. ....well... you think you're soo funny, don't you, dad. ....sometimes i read it before bed at night so i can dream of red lobster or cheese broccoli.... so i can dream of a better time...
anyway, getting a letter was cool. me drooling over a card was not.
wednesday after talking to my teacher about a project - and after her recommendation - i book our hostel in sevilla for easter weekend. because of the festival there (the reason we are going there for easter), she tells me it books fast. then she reminisces about when she was in college in granada over semana santa (holy week), trying to call and get hostels for sevilla. apparently she would call a hostel to ask if they had rooms available and the person on the phone would laugh and hang up. i booked our hostel when i got home.
thursday. a friend tries to recruit me in to going to croatia. croatia? why? but the pictures have me intrigued. maybe? i go to music class. i have not mentioned this, but there is a kid in my class who is always popping and cracking his neck. or back. or whatever else pops. loud. and i have also not mentioned this, but this totally freaks me out. the first time he did it, i stared open-mouthed in horror - and then notice my friend, mike, across the room laughing at me. later, i explain my phobia to him. so thursday, i get to music early. a few kids start filing in - including neck-popper. the seat next to me it open. ....no. he heads my way. ...no. he sits down. right. next to me. ...oh god. mike walks in, a smile on his face as soon as he sees. he sits on the other side of me. "it's not funny," i say to him. "ahh i really need to pop my back. i slept on it weird last night," he teases. "i'm going to scream." fortunately, neck-popper does not pop his neck in class - only a small back pop, which i bite my tongue in order to hide my disgust. next week, mike and i notice he is not in class. "probably broke his neck," i hypothesize.
that night, the roommates and i meet up with 10 other people to go to kapital - a six story night club, which i'm still confused about because i was always told it was seven stories? anyway, it was pretty awesome. level 1: karaoke, catering pretty obviously to americans. when i was in there, there were 3 semi-drunk girls on stage singing "i'm gonna be" by the proclaimers (i would walk 500 miles, and i would walk 500 more...). yeah.. bizarre right? i debate in my head whether or not they choose that song by accident. level 2: main club floor. dance floor, stage with models dancing/posing on stage (for certain songs - i.e. michael jackson - a transvestite, or what we think was one, would get on stage and pretend to perform). every once and a while a machine would shoot a cloud of fog down into the crowd. level 3: the balcony around level two. level 4: a bar/lounge - mostly spanish kids in there. level 5 was closed (what the hell i just paid 12 euro for what i thought was seven levels of krunk and now i only get five?). level 6: low-key lounge that looked kind of like a jungle, lined with couches and beds. yep. beds. plastic but it s
till counts. rumor has it the real madrid team rents out this floor after games. honestly, i think they'd rather pick a place that provided sheets.
i have a wardrobe malfunction. see i bought this belt even though it was a little big, thinking it would still work out. it didn't work out. before we left i tried to pin it in the back so it fit me right. i'm not really sure how this happened, but while dancing on level 2 with renata my belt sling-shot off of me into the crowd. what the?!? all of a sudden a guy a little ways away holds up my belt confused. i grab it. jesus... this thing needs insurance... throughout the night, my belt continues to be uncooperative. lesson learned: buy clothing that actually fits. who'da thought?
diana and i leave earlier than morgan and brittany. head home and go to bed. in the morning i had a missed call from brittany. i check to see and everyone's door is closed, meaning everyone is home. later i found out that the girls had not taken their keys out last night, and had to wake cruella up to get in the apartment when they came home. cruella was extra cruella-tastic that day.
friday diana and i go to golden cock with chris, michelle, andrea, and later josh shows up. pretty low key. we talk about how the wine is cheaper than water here, and how technically it's more economical to to be an alcoholic.
chris has been pick-pocketed four tim
es in 3 weeks, twice in one weekend. "what are you doing, holding your pockets open?" we tell him to put his stuff in the pockets of his vest he's wearing. "i can't. they're fake pockets." ....no. we explain that they are just sewn shut when you buy them - that you have to cut them open. and we do so, right then. josh gets a knife from the bartender and i perform surgery. this does not seem to do any good, because the next day chris tells me that his phone and ipod were stolen at a bar they went to after the golden cock. i tell him that i'm starting to think he likes being robbed and i'm setting up and intervention.
saturday. coincidentally, i have my first encounter with a pick-pocketer. or at least i hope so. if not, i feel bad. but i'm pretty sure.... anyway. diana and i were sitting at starbucks. basically dead. not moving. not talking. we couldn't get the wifi to work. the sun was shining on us through the window. we had just finished eating tolberone mcflurries (i'm obsessed). ...we had gotten up WAY to early to avoid cruella. finally i start reading an article for my anthropology class. (which really starts to piss me off because it's about what men and women are biologically programmed to be attracted to in the opposite sex. from a man's point of view.)
while explaining the article to diana, a man sits next to me (it's sort of a booth thing). my bookbag is on the floor, right next to my feet. open. but clearly in my line of view. as i'm talking to diana i notice the man is taking off his jacket. and that his jacket is sort of hovering over my bookbag while maneuvering very suspiciously. what the? are you serious dude? i grab my bookbag off the floor and hug it in my lap. i look at the man and stare at him, giving him the dirtiest look i know how (eyebrows arched angrily, scowl on my face, foaming at the mouth.... haha just kidding). and he just looks back at me. i look away and continue to hold my backpack in my lap, checking if anything is missing then zipping it up. he sits there for probably a minute or two, then gets up and leaves. "...what just happened?" diana asks me afterwards. oh, i don't know, but pretty sure that guy was a robber.
not much later i get a text from jorge (guitar guy), asking if i want to jam. yep. i head over to their place. and i don't leave for 8 hours. we take a break to make dinner. we go to supersol to get supplies, and raphael makes pasta. it was good. and cheap. diana and i plan to cook there every saturday for dinner to save money. more people show up and get ready to go out for the night. diana and i leave around midnight. the sport is at it's best.
sunday i don't leave the apartment (except for church - thank diana for taking me). this is the first time i've stayed home all day. with cruella. it wasn't bad. she did her thing, i did mine. around 1, she comes into my room. asking me something. ....what.... i don't know why she talks so fast. she knows i can't understand her. i follow her into the kitchen. (..............this is awkward because as i'm typing this, she's sweeping under the chair i am currently sitting in.............) she points to this pot on the stove and makes gestures and - through spanglish - i come to understand that she wants me to keep an eye on whatever she's cooking while she goes somewhere for 20 minutes. ...oh...ok...sure whatever, i'm not doing anything anyway... i walk over and stand by the pot. "no, no!" she tells me that i just need to come in every once in a while and check it. even better. she's awfully smiley. that's weird. maybe she's just trying to be nice so i'll watch her potion boil. what's in here, anyway? toes? frog eyes? (nope. it was flan. we had it for dessert later than night. ....i don't like flan). she comes back in 20 or so minutes. i go into the kitchen and ask, "esta bien?" "si, si, gracias" "de nada..."
hell yeah, i'm getting that key chain. boo yahhhh.
after a small chuckle (yes, a chuckle - which doesn't happen for me often. usually it's a giggle or a "ha - hAAAaahh" - which comes from my aunts - or this little "hMMmph" thing, which is kind of like a huff and a "hah" without even opening my mouth - sam and i both do this. this was a chuckle), i move to the next envelope. a pink valentines day card from the family. my dad writes "p.s. don't fall in love." and my sister points to it with an arrow and writes "HA!" ....'HA!' what? i'm gonna 'HA!' you in a minute. it seems this family has mixed emotions about my love life. jordan signs it j*ordan, the * being a picture of lips? with an arrow pointing from it to the words "a kiss." ...hmm.... j-kiss-o-r-d-a-n.... i've never seen it spelled that way.
the last card is my most and least favorite. on the cover there is a picture of a sad chihuahua with a sombrero on saying "adios" and on the inside saying "that's spanish for: sure, go ahead and leave your friends, the only people who really care about you, fine, just take off!!" hahahahahahahaahahah. that's good. Shari rights underneath it, "and live your dreams - we'll get over it!" ...now that i think about it, shari's pretty damn good at supporting my ideas and goals. not saying that anyone else in my family is lacking, there's just a certain energy she brings to the table. and that extra excitement from her encourages you even more.
my dad takes a different approach to this card. he writes, "nick, in case you don't miss me, you may miss the following:" and then precedes to write that weeks entire dinner menu. ham steak & mashed potatoes, chicken tetrazzini, sloppy joes, fillets on the grill, oreo's (even letting me know when they were going out to eat and when they are running out of oreo's - thank you. that was essential). basically, all my favorites. ....well... you think you're soo funny, don't you, dad. ....sometimes i read it before bed at night so i can dream of red lobster or cheese broccoli.... so i can dream of a better time...
anyway, getting a letter was cool. me drooling over a card was not.
wednesday after talking to my teacher about a project - and after her recommendation - i book our hostel in sevilla for easter weekend. because of the festival there (the reason we are going there for easter), she tells me it books fast. then she reminisces about when she was in college in granada over semana santa (holy week), trying to call and get hostels for sevilla. apparently she would call a hostel to ask if they had rooms available and the person on the phone would laugh and hang up. i booked our hostel when i got home.
thursday. a friend tries to recruit me in to going to croatia. croatia? why? but the pictures have me intrigued. maybe? i go to music class. i have not mentioned this, but there is a kid in my class who is always popping and cracking his neck. or back. or whatever else pops. loud. and i have also not mentioned this, but this totally freaks me out. the first time he did it, i stared open-mouthed in horror - and then notice my friend, mike, across the room laughing at me. later, i explain my phobia to him. so thursday, i get to music early. a few kids start filing in - including neck-popper. the seat next to me it open. ....no. he heads my way. ...no. he sits down. right. next to me. ...oh god. mike walks in, a smile on his face as soon as he sees. he sits on the other side of me. "it's not funny," i say to him. "ahh i really need to pop my back. i slept on it weird last night," he teases. "i'm going to scream." fortunately, neck-popper does not pop his neck in class - only a small back pop, which i bite my tongue in order to hide my disgust. next week, mike and i notice he is not in class. "probably broke his neck," i hypothesize.
that night, the roommates and i meet up with 10 other people to go to kapital - a six story night club, which i'm still confused about because i was always told it was seven stories? anyway, it was pretty awesome. level 1: karaoke, catering pretty obviously to americans. when i was in there, there were 3 semi-drunk girls on stage singing "i'm gonna be" by the proclaimers (i would walk 500 miles, and i would walk 500 more...). yeah.. bizarre right? i debate in my head whether or not they choose that song by accident. level 2: main club floor. dance floor, stage with models dancing/posing on stage (for certain songs - i.e. michael jackson - a transvestite, or what we think was one, would get on stage and pretend to perform). every once and a while a machine would shoot a cloud of fog down into the crowd. level 3: the balcony around level two. level 4: a bar/lounge - mostly spanish kids in there. level 5 was closed (what the hell i just paid 12 euro for what i thought was seven levels of krunk and now i only get five?). level 6: low-key lounge that looked kind of like a jungle, lined with couches and beds. yep. beds. plastic but it s
till counts. rumor has it the real madrid team rents out this floor after games. honestly, i think they'd rather pick a place that provided sheets.i have a wardrobe malfunction. see i bought this belt even though it was a little big, thinking it would still work out. it didn't work out. before we left i tried to pin it in the back so it fit me right. i'm not really sure how this happened, but while dancing on level 2 with renata my belt sling-shot off of me into the crowd. what the?!? all of a sudden a guy a little ways away holds up my belt confused. i grab it. jesus... this thing needs insurance... throughout the night, my belt continues to be uncooperative. lesson learned: buy clothing that actually fits. who'da thought?
diana and i leave earlier than morgan and brittany. head home and go to bed. in the morning i had a missed call from brittany. i check to see and everyone's door is closed, meaning everyone is home. later i found out that the girls had not taken their keys out last night, and had to wake cruella up to get in the apartment when they came home. cruella was extra cruella-tastic that day.
friday diana and i go to golden cock with chris, michelle, andrea, and later josh shows up. pretty low key. we talk about how the wine is cheaper than water here, and how technically it's more economical to to be an alcoholic.
chris has been pick-pocketed four tim
es in 3 weeks, twice in one weekend. "what are you doing, holding your pockets open?" we tell him to put his stuff in the pockets of his vest he's wearing. "i can't. they're fake pockets." ....no. we explain that they are just sewn shut when you buy them - that you have to cut them open. and we do so, right then. josh gets a knife from the bartender and i perform surgery. this does not seem to do any good, because the next day chris tells me that his phone and ipod were stolen at a bar they went to after the golden cock. i tell him that i'm starting to think he likes being robbed and i'm setting up and intervention.saturday. coincidentally, i have my first encounter with a pick-pocketer. or at least i hope so. if not, i feel bad. but i'm pretty sure.... anyway. diana and i were sitting at starbucks. basically dead. not moving. not talking. we couldn't get the wifi to work. the sun was shining on us through the window. we had just finished eating tolberone mcflurries (i'm obsessed). ...we had gotten up WAY to early to avoid cruella. finally i start reading an article for my anthropology class. (which really starts to piss me off because it's about what men and women are biologically programmed to be attracted to in the opposite sex. from a man's point of view.)
while explaining the article to diana, a man sits next to me (it's sort of a booth thing). my bookbag is on the floor, right next to my feet. open. but clearly in my line of view. as i'm talking to diana i notice the man is taking off his jacket. and that his jacket is sort of hovering over my bookbag while maneuvering very suspiciously. what the? are you serious dude? i grab my bookbag off the floor and hug it in my lap. i look at the man and stare at him, giving him the dirtiest look i know how (eyebrows arched angrily, scowl on my face, foaming at the mouth.... haha just kidding). and he just looks back at me. i look away and continue to hold my backpack in my lap, checking if anything is missing then zipping it up. he sits there for probably a minute or two, then gets up and leaves. "...what just happened?" diana asks me afterwards. oh, i don't know, but pretty sure that guy was a robber.
not much later i get a text from jorge (guitar guy), asking if i want to jam. yep. i head over to their place. and i don't leave for 8 hours. we take a break to make dinner. we go to supersol to get supplies, and raphael makes pasta. it was good. and cheap. diana and i plan to cook there every saturday for dinner to save money. more people show up and get ready to go out for the night. diana and i leave around midnight. the sport is at it's best.
sunday i don't leave the apartment (except for church - thank diana for taking me). this is the first time i've stayed home all day. with cruella. it wasn't bad. she did her thing, i did mine. around 1, she comes into my room. asking me something. ....what.... i don't know why she talks so fast. she knows i can't understand her. i follow her into the kitchen. (..............this is awkward because as i'm typing this, she's sweeping under the chair i am currently sitting in.............) she points to this pot on the stove and makes gestures and - through spanglish - i come to understand that she wants me to keep an eye on whatever she's cooking while she goes somewhere for 20 minutes. ...oh...ok...sure whatever, i'm not doing anything anyway... i walk over and stand by the pot. "no, no!" she tells me that i just need to come in every once in a while and check it. even better. she's awfully smiley. that's weird. maybe she's just trying to be nice so i'll watch her potion boil. what's in here, anyway? toes? frog eyes? (nope. it was flan. we had it for dessert later than night. ....i don't like flan). she comes back in 20 or so minutes. i go into the kitchen and ask, "esta bien?" "si, si, gracias" "de nada..."
hell yeah, i'm getting that key chain. boo yahhhh.
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