(no subject)
February 28th. The LAST DAY OF FEBRUARY, already!?
Shockingly enough I have MIDTERMS IN LIKE…3 WEEKS. Fluah, (that’s not a real word but since English isn’t really all that “real” here I think it’s legit to make it up).
So anyway, today…. Today while walking to the beach (because it was 75 degrees and sunny), a young African man approached me at an esquina (corner) near my house. He spoke French and broken spanish so what I could derive from the conversation that I had with him was that he was from somewhere near Cameroon, that he was 25 (yea right…I think he was older), and that he worked in a “business.” What did he want to know? If I wanted some marijuana. Now I know this is the part of the story where I’m supposed to turn around and run but I thought…eh, this is Spain. So I told him essentially that my body is a temple and that I don’t mess around with that stuff to which he looked at me in awe. He then asked me where I lived how old I was, if I had a job, what my telephone number was, and if I wanted to go to a bar sometime. To which I replied, “I don’t live here, I don’t have a job, I don’t have a number, and I don’t want to go to a bar.” Thankfully this was around the time that a friend approached him and they started to chatter in some Francophone dialect. I peaced out. It was an interesting encounter.
The beach, as usual, was a happening place. There were about three couples that were basically procreating in public which was a strange image to see next to that of numerous naked three year old British children running amuck. As usual I saw more saggy boobs than were necessary and enough speedos to last me a lifetime. All of this while I attempted to read Canturbury Tales. Take a wild guess whether or not I finished my homework? No.
After the beach Megan and I wandered to the market to meet up with Eva and Co. for a movie at the local theater. We saw Beyond the Sea (about Bobbie Darin) which I’d already seen (and not liked) previously. It was nice to see in Spanish, however, because I knew the storyline enough so that nothing became too lost in translation.
So now I’m about to buckle down and bust open Canterbury Tales again. Let me just say one thing: I didn’t come to Spain to read English….
Love,
Zoe
Shockingly enough I have MIDTERMS IN LIKE…3 WEEKS. Fluah, (that’s not a real word but since English isn’t really all that “real” here I think it’s legit to make it up).
So anyway, today…. Today while walking to the beach (because it was 75 degrees and sunny), a young African man approached me at an esquina (corner) near my house. He spoke French and broken spanish so what I could derive from the conversation that I had with him was that he was from somewhere near Cameroon, that he was 25 (yea right…I think he was older), and that he worked in a “business.” What did he want to know? If I wanted some marijuana. Now I know this is the part of the story where I’m supposed to turn around and run but I thought…eh, this is Spain. So I told him essentially that my body is a temple and that I don’t mess around with that stuff to which he looked at me in awe. He then asked me where I lived how old I was, if I had a job, what my telephone number was, and if I wanted to go to a bar sometime. To which I replied, “I don’t live here, I don’t have a job, I don’t have a number, and I don’t want to go to a bar.” Thankfully this was around the time that a friend approached him and they started to chatter in some Francophone dialect. I peaced out. It was an interesting encounter.
The beach, as usual, was a happening place. There were about three couples that were basically procreating in public which was a strange image to see next to that of numerous naked three year old British children running amuck. As usual I saw more saggy boobs than were necessary and enough speedos to last me a lifetime. All of this while I attempted to read Canturbury Tales. Take a wild guess whether or not I finished my homework? No.
After the beach Megan and I wandered to the market to meet up with Eva and Co. for a movie at the local theater. We saw Beyond the Sea (about Bobbie Darin) which I’d already seen (and not liked) previously. It was nice to see in Spanish, however, because I knew the storyline enough so that nothing became too lost in translation.
So now I’m about to buckle down and bust open Canterbury Tales again. Let me just say one thing: I didn’t come to Spain to read English….
Love,
Zoe