» So … hot … AKA Abraham Bacoln

July 2, 2007, 4:24 pm
Filed under: Spain

So much time has passed! So much has happened!

Wait, nothing has happened!

Honestly, I’m glad that I decided from the very beginning to record the meals that the Sra. makes here – that pretty much prompts me to write every day like nothing else would. I’m sorry if you’re sick of hearing about them but man, in a few years when I’ve forgotten everything that happened on this trip (as I will, because my memory is pretty much nonexistent) I’ll be glad to have the list.

So what do we have here? I’ll just go ahead and get all the food out of the way. Maybe I’ll do it in one big sentence so it’s easier for you to ignore.

*deep breath*

On Sunday I had a salad for lunch which as usual was dressed only with vinegar and olive oil and which contained corn kernels which I think is a bit odd but whatever they taste great and then the main dish was the ‘fake’ paella again this time with chicken and green beans (?) and it was of course amazing and for this lunch on Sunday the Sr. brought out a bottle of Rioja Crianza 2003 from a very very small vineyard and MAN was that wine ever tops like amazing good I can’t believe it so then it even went well with the fruit for dessert and I found myself wishing the next day, Monday, that’s today, that I had more of it when she served the soup which had pumpkin and carrot and zucchini and little tiny pasta pieces that looked like grits more than anything and man was that good and then lunch was a mashed potato dish with herbs and cheese and a bunch of sauteed mushrooms on the side and fresh tomato and then of course fruit for dessert and today we drank a rosÃ© wine instead of the usual red wine because it has gotten hot again which is in part why my dinner tonight consisted of a whole cucumber, a tiny bit of cheese, and a Fuji apple ’cause those are good things to eat when it’s hot THE END

There. That wasn’t so bad.

It’s sweaty today because we’re in the middle of another terral. This was explained to me as a hot and very dry wind that comes from Africa and makes life miserable for four or five days. I looked it up and its true (non-regional) name is FÃ¶hn wind. Fascinating stuff, really.

Oh, I took my test at school (the one for which I spent too little time studying in my opinion) and passed, which means I’m now in Nivel Intermedio 3, the last intermediate level before the advanced classes. Hooray, I accomplished! Something! My time here has not yet been wasted.

Which means, of course, I don’t go to the beach nearly enough. I went again today, this would be the third time I’ve gone during the day wearing my swimsuit. I have to make that distinction – I have gone to the beach many times at night to people-watch and take pictures and exercise-walk. I did of course get in today and I swear it felt like my mammalian diving reflex was kicking in. It’s still damn cold in the Mediterranean. The advantage is that you can stand to be in the hot sun for ten or twenty minutes afterwards because your body is still recovering from the shock. My typical beach trip (so far) involves showing up, beachcombing for a second, getting wet, thinking I’m going to die from the cold, and then beachcombing for an additional hour. Then I go home. I haven’t the patience to simply lie around and suntan, and haven’t the desire either. I found some wonderful things today. They’re all classified Top Secret, though. Sorry ’bout that.

Did I mention yet that I passed my test and that now I get to study four different conjugations in the subjunctive? Fantastic! I’m totally stoked about this! And being sarcastic!

I leave you with this final horrible thought, because I am some sort of monster:

The other day I found myself on a rather unused terrace at the school while looking for a place in which to study undisturbed. At the very back of this terrace is an old bar, and the bar is covered by an overhang which in turn is absolutely ensconsed in ivy. It’s very pretty but a tad dark back there. Anyway, as I finished studying I got up and walked around behind the bar, just to see.

When I got back there I could smell something dead. Now I really do want you to think for a second about that smell. Stephen King is fond of describing it as sickly-sweet. It’s rather unmistakable, maybe even hardwired into our genetic memory – oops, something dead, don’t touch that or we’ll all die from disease, avoid things that smell like that. But right now, can you smell it? In your mind, or your mind’s nose, or however one describes that sensation? The dead bird under the bush on your way to the mailbox? Something a little bit bigger that you won’t go looking for and you hope stops smelling so bad and soon? All rotty and attention-getting and yes, a little sweet, and sour, and on the whole rather unpleasant …?

So yeah, I smelled that smell. And for the first time, while the scent was still inside my nostrils, I thought (and very clearly, mind you), “I wonder if this is what zombies smell like all the time.”

Sweet dreams!

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