Wednesday, September 9, 2009

Yes Yes Fanta Plz Nom Nom Nom

LOOK WHERE I LIVE!  This is me on my balcony.

We live with a lady from Pennsylvania named Jennifer who is in her early thirties and has a very serious three year old named Louie.  We have been speculating about the father's non-presence.  Is he a business man?  Are they divorced?  Is Louie adopted?  Is he a test-tube baby?  The housekeeper said last night after we plied her with bad wine: daddy was a Brazilian who unexpectedly flew the coop and lives back in Brazil.  So Jennifer and me and Kris and Louie hang out, and also Sonja, a 24 year old girl who is renting a different room and is here on a Fullbright scholarship.  There are Brazilian ladies who hang out here during the day.  One, Gigi, seems to be a sort of housekeeper, who I mentioned before, and one seems to be some cross between friend and Louie-watcher.

Gigi Louie-watcher

It is warm/hot here, but I don't know how warm/hot because they do things in Centigrade, which was essentially invented to make people like me feel stupid, since the conversion from stupid-American-degrees goes something like "Add thirty two, divide by 4.323897239478 and then minus 6".  I go to the beach and there are many top-nudie ladies and no one cares and I'm finally getting a (top nudie) summer tan.

Dublin was cool, but nothing to write home about, I thought.  We were only there for a few hours, and I bet Ireland you kind of need to see in a rural setting/drunken belligerence.  I don't recall it ever being renowned for its urban landscape.  They seem very politically angsty, or maybe that is just the lamp posts and building walls.

I really can't ask much besides "Hi, you call this how?".  I get about two sentences into conversation.  Most people speak English because there are so so many tourists or non-Spanish immigrants, but there is also a Catalan population of about 40%-60% who use Catalan as their dominant language. Sometimes I read buses and it makes me nervous that not one word looks familiar, then I figure out I'm reading Catalan not Spanish.  But I can still pretty much figure out that Barcelona Buses Run On Natural Gas To Keep Your Air Clean!  I am accruing crucial knowledge right and left.

There are big waves and the water is warm and everything is made of stone.  People are pretty lax about time, nudity, and most general laws.  I have cleverly deduced that the swarms of soda-sellers who sell soda for twenty euro are not just selling soda.  Sometimes if you tell them that no, you would not like a soda right now thank you, they ask you slowly if you would like some hash, justtttt in case you are a little too stupid to understand the actual transaction.  I probably have been asked 20 times since I've been here if I need a Fanta.

There's also all these Sudanese guys that carry fake purses and designer goods around on blankets that have strings tied to the corners.  They lay them out and if they see a cop coming they pull the blanket into a little ball by the corner strings and run off looking like a mob of African Santa Clauses.  Then they unfurl down the road and stand there with the strings in hand like covert little fisherman.  So if anyone wants a Dior purse with very slight dissimilarities with the real version, just let me know.

How you call this?  Bueno, bueno.


1 comment:

  1. Your first Spanish lesson (that matters!):

    "Hola, que tal?" = Hello, what's up?

    If you drag out the 'tal', Spanish people will smile and become interested in what you next. Try it.