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It's been a while. What can be said?? My tutoring session with the Spanish woman was okay. She was a little dry, but it gives me another thing to do here in Madrid and has inspired me to maybe find other people; younger, fresher, and more entertaining people who might need English practice. I guess I got too excited and assumed I'd be hearing funny stories from her about her bratty kids, menopause, and the next season of Survivor, but..... maybe that will come soon.
Mark, Caitlin, Talia, and I ventured off to Gijon this past weekend. Mark's school director gave him the keys to her vacation apartment. The city was beautiful. We climbed luscious cliff hills (I almost fell off and Mark chased a black cat),we swam in the sea (I couldn't feel my legs it was so cold and Mark shrieked countless times in alarm over suspected fish bites and crab attacks), we visited a pretty seaside cathedral (where two girls were going to town with nose-picking, forgive them Jesus), saw an old man wash his dentures in a stone fountain, met a sweet Mormon girl on a bus who was evangelizing to us for her mission-trip, and we frequented Sidrarias (where men that looked liked uncle Daves and Mikes poured hard cider into a cup, arms stretched super wide, emphatic about not watching the risky pour). Me and Mark also visited a different church and it was almost empty inside, so we sat down. Then all of a sudden a bride walks down arm-in-arm with her father and a wedding begins. We skipped out of there as soon as the priest shut his mouth.
Oh!! Another important thing to add is that a bird pooped on me for the first time ever! - on my shoulder. it was green and white, like a danish paste for St. Patrick's Day. Also, we played Charades on the second night here and I discovered Mark's competitive side. I was never warned. However, I played off my comp-side really well. But....he probably saw through it. Nonetheless, my team lost.
I tasted baby squid (which really did taste like BBQ chicken and I tried mussels which really did taste like dying babies). Furthermore, Spanish pizza does not compare to the joys and splendor of Hungry Howies. I advise you to bask in its wonders while you can (and please send me a letter with a smudge of Hungry Howies crust on it or a jar with your pizza breath locked in).
No one has dryers here, only clothes lines, but our neighbor (across the alley) here on the fourth floor took up most of our line, so I was forced to hang all our socks and undies on the spines of chairs and table edges. It's an ugly sight. (below- those are my black undies and mark's red swim trunks).
Well, let me end with two things: the first is an inspiration quote I learned this weekend -
"Don't make God have to pop a tire"
and secondly, here are some pics of our new place. Peace.