Rapido

Dios Mios

I have the wondows wide open in my room because it's stiflingly humid up here for some reason. This house has central air, but my room never seems to get any of it. So, to hell with intruders, insects of various shapes and sizes; I need air.

[I have killed three mosquitos since Monday, and I've felt guilty about every one. What's wrong with me? I'm a meateater for chrissake.]

Jose and Miryam have gone out tonight with Miryam's brother and sister in law, leaving Cinthya and I with four absent minded wild children. But, after a frustratingly eventful dinner, the kids (all four) are tucked into Miryam and Jose's bed, pyjamaed and fed, watching Star Wars. Right now the kids are excited and can't stop talking (A movie! Cousins! What a night!) but methinks they'll be sound asleep by midnight. Mehopes, anyway.

My Spanish is vastly improving, but everytime I start to think I understand pretty well, somebody says something to me and I can't do anything but stare blankly and wait for someone else to translate.

[Uh oh. I hear the pitter patter of little feet...why the hell are the little demons out of that bed? What could they possibly need to be standing up for?]

But anyway. Tomorrow I venture to Aluche to buy myself a phone. I really, really, really hope somebody in whatever store I end up in, speaks English. Because I really, really, really do not want to be taken for the stupid American that I am. What I want is simple: a cheap phone and prepaid minutes. Nothing fancy.


Chao.

Conned

I just bought what is probably the most expensive sunblock on the planet. I am a stupid American. But why do pharmacies here have to be so chic? And why couldn't I just find some coppertone type shit in the supermarket?

I only wanted spf 15 or something too. I hope all I got was 20, at most. But I think it may be as high as 40. The ridiculous thing is that it doesn't say what spf it is on the damn bottle, and I can't remember what the pharmacist lady said it was. Anyway, this shit needs to last me all summer. And I better not still look like white bread at the end of the summer either. When and where and how much sunblock to apply this summer is going to be an arduous task.

Jesus. I miss coppertone.

In other news, I think I can get those two days in July off for the concert. I asked Miryam last night, and she said it wouldn't be a problem and that they would even drive me to and from. Although I don't know what will happen with that offer since the thing starts at 6pm and ends at 6am. But whatever, we'll see. I still have to figure out getting the tickets this weekend (Saturday, before the prices go up).

Jose came home early today (4pm for christ's sake) and took the kids to the "club." Fine with me. I was invited to come along, but I always feel so pathetic there. I just sit around with all the adults staring blankly because I can barely understand what they are talking about. Not to mention they're all like 40 and suburban. They even have big stupid SUV's here, just like in the States. There's no escaping them.

So I'm here, Cinthya's downstairs listening to the radio, and I can't get rid of these goddamn hiccups. Ipos, as they're called in Spanish.

I'm bored off my ass.

white collar

Okay, so sometimes I am perfectly happy here. Sometimes I even like eating fish every night of the week. And sometimes Cinthya (I can never get the Spanish spelling right, but this time I checked) makes the best scalloped potatoes and onions.

Sometimes.

Such is life. This morning felt like torture, and lunchtime with the demons is barely tolerable. But afternoons lounging by the pool with one eye in a book and one eye on the splashing demons, are not so bad. And, hopefully, I will get a day this weekend to go about Madrid. And hopefully I can get July 13 & 14 off. And then I can buy tickets for summercase.

How much fun could that be?

And maybe one of these days stopping in an English book store and finding some more good reads. I've gone through 2 1/2 books already, and it's not even July. I only brought 4.

Ay. Ya. So it goes.

Mosquitos

These children are demons. Constantly hitting, yelling, running wild. No respect for, well, anything. At all. In ten minutes I've got to try to get the elder one, at least, to sit down and do some math work in English for an hour. It's torture for both of us.

So how am I doing here in Spain? Hard to say. It varies. I have made a friend, which is nice. And perhaps I may be able to go to a music festival in two weeks. So do I love Spain? Yes. Do I love my job? No, not so much. The family is very nice overall, and the baby is wonderful, but the two little boys are complete demons. Thank god for the other woman who works here, Cinthia. Her main responsibility is to clean the house, cook, and take care of the baby, but she helps me with the boys a lot. And she's fun to talk to, at least when my Spanish is good enough.

Oh, and I hate living out here in Pozuelo. It's like being stuck in Westchester. And it's not like you can do anything nice with the kids, like take them to a park or into the city for the day, because they really just do not know how to behave in public. These are the kind of kids one might resort to hitting just to get a point across. But I am a solid believer in "fear." Fear me, dammit. Just from the tone of my voice. The tone of my voice and the expression on my face should be enough to scare them into calming down and behaving at least a little less than devilishly.

All day, Cinthia and I roll our eyes at each other and sigh "los ninos son muy disobedientes."
So yeah, right now, at this moment, I kind of hate my job.

I need to do something fun this weekend.

roja con un nuevo reloj

The sun does not set here until after 10pm. Lunch isn't until 3pm; dinner not until 9pm. And apparently the spontaneous arrival of grandparents at 9:20pm is much ado about nothing. When do people here sleep? They don't.

My shoulders, back, arms and face son roja. Muy roja. I swear left and right that it will be brown in the morning, but nobody seems to believe me. But you are American! You need crema! Just in case, I think I will venture to la mercadona and get some sunblock tomorrow. Also, cookies and various sugary cereals. Can you believe they have a cereal here that is like a sugared biscuit filled with chocolate and miniaturized? I can't believe it's for breakfast! I thought Americans had topped the "disgustingly unhealthy breakfast" category; but then, this is a country known for Churros con Chocolate for breakfast. So what do Americans know?

Anyway, the days here are long, the nights are short, and I am always tired. But I am loving it. Tonight I ate a deep fried sardine for dinner. Skin and bones and head and all. And something that looked like grey worms but tasted like fishy buttered spaghetti. I wouldn't touch the stuff if you gave it to me in the U.S., but here I just chalk it up to experience. And actually, it's all been quite tasty so far, fish heads and all.

I finally got my squiggly swatch via correos today, a gift from my mother. It is an original 1987 spring/summer edition swatch, in mint condition. And best of all, completely waterproof. Not to mention, it's called "tutti frutti." What's not to love?

I guess that's all. Not very exciting, is it? Last week was much more exciting, but I didn't have a blog then. I figured out the suburban busses, the metro; went to museums and gardens; walked from one end of Madrid to the other and back again....

But this week? Kids in the sun.

Empezar?

Well, it's after 11pm here, and I am exhausted. Somehow in rediscovering the wondrousness (is that even a word?) of AIM, I also found my old livejournal crap. Upon realizing that I had no idea what my password for livejournal was, I decided I didn't really need to see it again anyway. All that angsty, hormonal ranting and raving? No thank you.

But I am in Spain for the summer. And what do people do when they go to other countries for extended periods of time? They start blogs to chronicle their every move. Always interesting? No. But I think in this respect I am going to follow the crowd and start a blog for my time here in Spain. Why not?

It's not like you have to read it.
But you might want to. Once in awhile.

So here's to the beginning, 10 days in.

Good night.