Last night, I had kind of a rough time. I developed a really bad stomachache, and so spent a large percentage of the night in the bathroom. I don’t really know what the problem was, though it may have had something to do with the entire jar of green olives I ate for dinner. I stayed in bed late this morning because of my lack of sleep and then got up and went to the second half of my TEFL class. Don’t worry about me though. I’m fine now. It was probably just my stinkin’ dengue acting up again. (Just kidding, Joaquin! Don’t get mad…I love you…)
I went to church on Sunday with my friend Biz. She found a small Iglesia Cristiana in another part of town, and so I went with her to check it out. Luckily, the guest speaker wasn’t a native Spanish speaker. He was actually a German missionary working in Mexico, but he spoke in Spanish slowly and clearly, without slang or difficult words, so we were able to understand him fairly easily. We spoke to him after the service, but apparently he doesn’t speak English because he continued to converse with us in Spanish even after we told him we were Americans. It was a nice Sunday morning, and Biz and I stopped for empanadas at a little bakery close to the church on our way back to the metro station.
The neighborhood I live in is very multicultural, like I have said before. However, I thought the multicultural-ness was restricted to South and Central American countries. Apparently it’s not. I have a strong suspicion that I live next door to an aboriginal Australian, because I got ready this morning to the sound of him practicing his didgeridoo. I know you are probably thinking that‘s highly unlikely to be a correct assumption, but trust me. Didgeridoo music is very distinctive. I know the sound of a man puffing up his cheeks and blowing with all his might into a long thick tube of Australian-type wood stuffs when I hear it.
My Moroccan roomy has calmed down a bit since the last time we talked. Some of you already know about her psychotic episodes of absolute nonsense, but hopefully she has lightened up and will remain so. She is having her older brother bring a desk for my room sometime this week, so that will be nice. Her brother also lives here in Madrid, which just follows the trend I have noticed about girls from Muslim families living abroad. Every Muslim girl I have ever met was only able to move to another part of the world after her older brother had already established himself there. I sure am glad my family is not like that, because I have no older brother. So I would either be stuck at home cooking couscous all day, or be disowned and ostracized from my family for shipping myself off anyway.* Thank God for the good old Baptists.
Speaking of other religions,
Well, I am a sleepy child who needs her rest and all that. Maybe my roommate’s asleep so I can go sneak and take a shower. Madrid makes my armpits sweat like crazy. And apparently everyone else’s too. During midday, this whole city smells like a boys’ locker room. Not that I’ve ever been in a boys’ locker room. Obviously. Because I am a girl. Ok, then…
*I mean no harm by making gross generalizations like this. It is only for humorous purposes and not meant to be taken seriously. Muslims are generally very nice people. And I make fun of my own religion quite regularly. Those mentioned in the next paragraph, however, I do not wish to spare. Let all laughter at the expense of the Mormons ring loud and free!
1 comment:
Ginny, you are so special. I am consistently entertained by all of your blogs. You know, you could like, make a living as a travel-blogger. Travel the world and then write humorous blogs about said travels.
The other day I was thinking about when we watched Fun With Dick and Jane in Guatemala and had to translate ALL the subtitles for Mel and Stella. Priceless. I miss you. Maybe I'll come to language school in Madrid next summer. Maybe you'll still be there?...Te quiero mucho!
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