For those of you who aren’t familiar with the term, allow me to sum up its greatness in a few short sentences. Each day at approximately 2pm, Spain take a three hour hiatus from work and school to return home for lunch and relaxation. I haven’t traveled to other Spanish cities yet, but I can tell you that here in Granada it’s like the twilight zone. The children walk home from school, store owners lock up and people walk vigorously home with bags of groceries. I’ve been told that if you’re still roaming the streets past 2 you’re either clinically insane or homeless. In any case, I come straight home from class, head down to the dining room for lunch. I’m going to take this opportunity to give a shout-out to Rosa, our house mom, who makes delicious food and though she doesn’t speak a word of English, we always manage to get what we want (even if it takes a lot of hand gestures and spanglish). Typically once I finish I like to spend the next 2 hours in what I refer to at home as the “nap zone.” I can already tell that I will have a hard time adjusting back to nap-less afternoons in America. Or I may become narcoleptic.
The best part about my siesta is that class is over for the day. I need to vent for a second and express how much I dislike my Spanish class. Four hours of straight Spanish for a non fluent student is difficult in itself, but that’s the least of my dismay. Although I have an absolutely gorgeous view from my classroom window, the room is a few feet bigger than a standard bathroom and rather uncomfortable. However the worst part is by far the people in my class. Sorry but I just can’t deal with them. You have your 24 year old “just getting back into the swing of college.” Your carefree California hipster that has tattoos on the back on her neck “for herself” yet wears her hair up every day. A girl from Brussels who looks like a less cracked out Steven Tyler and a few others. Then there’s Taylor. She’s from Virginia and feels the constant need to speak to me when it couldn’t be more obvious how uninterested I am in her life. Also she has what I’m going to call a tic. Taylor finds the need to preface every sentence, English or Spanish with “si, si.” Here is a typical conversation between us:
Taylor: Hey how are you? I like your scarf. Where did you get it?
Me: Thanks. It’s from a store near my residencia
Taylor: Si, si. eh I like it.
AWESOME TAYLOR! THANKS!
Taylor: I woke up early to stop and get coffee
Me: Oh, nice. I didnt’ have time.
Taylor: Si, si. It was delicious.
Today she suggested we meet at a cafe` to review our notes. The chances of that are one in a trillion. She also will probably attempt to friend me on Facebook, which in that case, I will have to block her from seeing anything I do because I doubt this will be the last time I express my hatred for her.
Aside from class, everything else has been wonderful. I had my first experience at “Chupiteria 69” a local bar that has 120 different shots that are more like tiny mixed drinks. And they’re only one euro! I love me a bargain. After that we walked about 374 miles (just basing it on what it seemed like at the time) to go to a club called Granadadiez. A “Typical American night” is what the Spanish students say we had, but I enjoyed it!
Fun Tidbit of the Week:
The other day I began a social experiment, if you will. I left a quarter outside by the street on top one of the little structures that line each road in Granada. They’re shaped like pomegranates because that’s what Granada means! (fun fact, right?) This morning, the quarter was missing. Looks like someone just made .33 in euros. I guess the locals are smarter than I thought.